Nevertheless, as urgently as Adara wanted to self-protect right now, she also really, really appreciated Gideon’s solid presence beside her. He warmed her with a strong arm across her back as they walked up to Karen’s office and kept a supportive hold on her as they stood numbly waiting for the receptionist, still in her street jacket, to escort them into an exam room.
Karen, efficient and caring as she was, was not pleased to learn Adara had miscarried two months ago without telling her.
Adara drew in a defensive breath, but Gideon spoke before she could.
“Let’s not dwell on that. Obviously there was no lasting damage or Adara wouldn’t be pregnant again. I’d like to focus on what we can do to help her with this pregnancy.”
Karen was used to being the one in charge, but shook off her ruffled feathers as Gideon’s obvious concern shone through.
“I’d like to say there was a magic formula for going to term. Mother Nature sometimes has other plans, but we hope for the best, right? Adara, you know the drill.” She handed her a plastic cup.
A few minutes later, Adara was in a gown, sitting on the edge of the exam table while Karen confirmed her pregnancy. The frown puckering her brow brought a worried crinkle to Adara’s and Gideon’s foreheads as well.
“What’s wrong?” Adara asked with dread.
“Nothing. Just our tests are more sensitive than the over-the-counter ones and.... Do you mind? I won’t do an internal just yet, but can I palpate your abdomen?”
Adara settled onto her back and Karen’s fingers pressed a few times before she set the cool flat of the stethoscope against her skin. “Tell me more about this miscarriage you had. When do you think you conceived that time?”
“Um, late April?” Adara guessed. “I can look it up on my phone.”
“So fourteen, maybe fifteen weeks ago?” The cool end of the stethoscope was covering a lot of real estate.
“You’re not thinking I’m still pregnant from then,” Adara scoffed. “Karen, I know a miscarriage when I’m having one.”
“I want you to have a scan. Let’s go down the hall.”
Gideon’s face was as tight as Adara’s felt. He held her elbow, but she barely felt his touch, limbs going numb with dread. Something was wrong. Really wrong. Karen’s sobriety told her that.
Except that, five minutes later, they were looking at a screen that showed an unmistakable profile of a baby’s head, its tiny body lounging in a hammock-like curve, one tiny hand lifting above its head to splay like a wishing star.
Gideon cussed out a very base Greek curse. Not exactly appropriate for such a reverent moment, but Adara had to agree. This was unbelievable.
“Is that a recording from someone else?” she asked, afraid to trust her eyes.
“This is why we put you through those procedures during a miscarriage, Adara,” Karen said gently. “We look for things like a twin that might have survived. Given that this one has hung on past your first trimester, I’d guess he or she is exactly that. A survivor. This is a very good sign you’ll go to term.”
CHAPTER NINE
IF THEY’D WALLOWED in disbelief and shock last night, and tension had been thick on their way to see Karen, it was nothing to the stunned silence that carried them back to the penthouse.
Adara sank onto the sofa without removing her jacket or shoes, totally awash in a sea of incredulity. She was afraid to believe it. They might actually have a baby this time. A family.
An expansion of incredible elation, supreme joy, as if she had the biggest, best secret in the world growing inside her, was tempered by cautious old Adara who never quite believed good things could happen to her. She might have a solicitous husband who felt every bit as protective and parental toward his offspring as she did, but he wasn’t in love with her. Not the way she was tumbling into love with him.
Shaken, she glanced to where he stood with hands in his pockets, the back of his shirt flattened by his tense stance, the curve of his buttocks lovingly shaped by black jeans, his feet spaced apart for a sailor’s habitual seeking of balance.
“What are you thinking?” she invited hesitantly.
“That I can’t believe I let you climb down to that beach in Greece. I’ve been on you like a damn caveman...” He ran a hand over his hair and turned around. His face was lined with self-recrimination. “I wish to hell I’d known, Adara.”
She set her chin, not liking the streak of accusation in his tone. Sitting straighter, she said, “I’m not going to apologize for refusing to see a doctor before today.” Even though a lot of things would have been different if she had.
Would she and Gideon have come this far as a couple, though?
And was this far enough?
She clenched her hands and pressed her tightened mouth against her crossed thumbs, trying to process how this pregnancy changed everything. While Gideon had shown no desire to discuss adoption, she had kept divorce on the table. Now...
“It’s done anyway,” he said, pacing a few steps, then pivoting to confront her. “But moving forward, we’re taking better care of you. Both of you. I’ll start by informing your brothers you’ll be delegating your responsibilities. I want you working four-hour days, not twelve. Travel is curtailed for both of us. Chile will have to wait and Tokyo will go on hold indefinitely. The architect needs to start over and you can’t be here through renovations, so we’ll have to hurry the Hampton place along.”
“Karen said everything is normal, that this isn’t a high-risk pregnancy,” she reminded, tensing at all he’d said. “I can still work.”
“Do you want to take chances?”
“Of course not. But I don’t want to be railroaded either. You’re acting like—”
Imperious brows went up. “Like?”
“Like it’s actually going to happen,” she said in a small voice. She watched the toes of her shoes point together. All of her shrank inward, curling protectively around the tiny flicker of life inside her.
“You just said yourself, it’s not high risk.” His voice was gruff, but she heard the tiny fracture in his tone. He wasn’t as steady as he appeared.
“It’s just...to make all these changes and tell people...What if something happens?”
The line of his shoulders slumped. He came to sit beside her, angled on the cushion to face her while he pinched her cold fingers in a tight grip. “I’m going to move whatever mountains need moving to ensure nothing does. We’re going to have this baby, Adara.”
She didn’t look convinced. Her brow stayed pleated in worry, her mouth tremulous. A very tentative ray of hope in her eyes remained firmly couched, not allowed to grow.
Gideon clenched his teeth in frustration that sheer will wasn’t enough. “I realize you’re scared,” he allowed.
“I may not be high risk, but there’s still a risk,” she insisted defensively.
She was breaking his heart. “I’m not disregarding that. But my coping strategy is to reduce the chances of any outcome but the one I want and go full steam ahead.”
“And the outcome you want is...a baby?”
“Is there any doubt?” He sat back, unable to fathom that she’d imagine anything else.
“I asked you what you were thinking and you started talking about architects and Tokyo, like this was a massive inconvenience to your jam-packed schedule.”
His breath escaped raggedly. “I’m a man. My first thoughts are practical—secure food and shelter. I’m not going to hang my heart out there and admit to massive insecurities at not knowing how to be a father, or reveal that I’m dying of pride.”
Her mouth twitched into a pleased smile. “Or own up to whether you’d prefer a boy or a girl?” Underlying her teasing tone was genuine distress. Adara would have had more value in her father’s eyes if she’d been a male, they both knew that.
That wasn’t why he took her question like a lightning rod to the soul, though, flinching then forcing his expression smooth. “I’ve always wanted a girl,” he admitted, feeling very much as if his vital organs were clawed from him and set out on display. “So we could name her Delphi, for my mother.”
Adara paled a bit and he knew he’d made a mistake. He could practically see her taking on responsibility for never giving him that.
“Babe—”
“It’s a lovely name,” she said with a strained, sweet smile. “I’d like it very much if we could do that.”
But she wasn’t like him, willing to bet on long shots. Her cheekbones stood out prominently as she distressed over whether she could come through for him. He didn’t know how to reassure her that this wasn’t up to her. He had never blamed her, never would.
“Will you wait here a minute?” He kissed her forehead and stood, leaving to retrieve the ring he’d wanted to give her last night. When he returned, he sat on the edge of the sofa again, then thought better and dipped onto one knee. “I bought this to mark our fifth anniversary, but...”