his life, the twenty minutes waiting for Dr. Sue competed for the title.
Ray paced, arms folded. Grant stayed by Christina’s side, holding her hand until she kissed his closed fist and told him he was making her fingers stiff.
Dr. Sue came in, saw both men, and said, “Ah.”
“Just tell us,” Ray growled. “We’re going crazy.”
“Well, I don’t know myself,” Dr. Sue said. She handed Christina the envelope she carried. “It’s Christina’s business. She sees it first.”
A swallow moved down Christina’s throat as she reached a shaking hand for the envelope. She settled it on the blankets, fighting with the pulse monitor on her finger before she tore the seal with her thumb and pulled out a sheaf of papers.
Christina read the first page, flipped to the second, and frowned.
“Well?” Grant realized he’d stopped breathing. “What the hell does it say?”
“It says …” Christina cleared her throat. “Subject one—Grant—cannot be ruled out as the biological father.”
Grant blinked, turning the weird sentence around in his head. “What the hell does that mean?”
Ray glared at him. “It means you’re the father, dumb-ass.”
“Yes,” Dr. Sue said briskly. “That’s exactly what it means.”
Grant remained in place for a few seconds as his brain caught up and the revelation seeped through his body.
He let out a whoop that drowned out the next clap of thunder.
“Whoo-hoo! I’m having a baby! I’m going to be a dad!” Grant left the floor, punching the air with both fists. “I’m a dad!”
Christina was laughing and crying, wiping her eyes with the envelope. Dr. Sue watched them all, quiet with experience, a smile on her face.
Ray didn’t say a word. He’d turned his back, arms jammed across his chest. Grant looked over Christina’s shoulder at the other paper lying on her lap. Subject Two—Ray—ruled out as the biological father.
No doubt about it.
“Ray,” Grant said.
Ray lifted his head and turned around. His eyes were wet. “Congratulations, Grant. Christina. This was for the best, I guess. You two need to be together. Now you can be—totally.”
“Ray, I’m sorry,” Christina said softly. “I’m sorry I put you through this.”
Ray shook his head. He didn’t look at either of them, but moisture glittered on his lashes. “I’d have wanted to know. I’ll see you.”
Without waiting for argument or good-byes, Ray swung around and left the room.
Dr. Sue put her hands into the pockets of her white coat. “That’s that, then. Congratulations, you two.” She glanced at the ring sparkling on Christina’s finger. “Double congrats. When’s the wedding?”
Grant and Christina both started to talk, then Christina laughed. Grant answered. “As soon as humanly possible. All right, Christina?”
“Fine by me,” Christina said. She lay back, looking suddenly exhausted. “But I get a pretty dress. And a church. Oh, man, Bailey’s going to kill me when I tell her she only has a few weeks to plan the wedding.”
Dr. Sue gestured with her hands in her pockets, the coat opening and closing. “Sounds like you have it covered. Now, I’ll let you kiss her good-night, Grant, and you can sleep here at the clinic if you want, but she has to rest.”
“You got it, Doc.”
Grant didn’t wait until Dr. Sue left to begin the kissing. He needed Christina’s kisses right now.
Christina laughed as he leaned over her, and Grant tasted the laughter in his mouth.
Christina was his. He had a family. Grant placed his hand over Christina’s abdomen. She slid her hand on top of his, her touch light but strong.
Her kisses were the same. She was fragile, his Christina, but she’d make it. She’d already proved she could put up with Grant and all his shit through good times and bad.
Grant deepened the kiss, Christina’s hand coming up to cup his neck.
There would be all good times from now on. Sexy times, fun times, happy times—and full of love.
Because now they were three.
Chapter Nineteen
Three weeks later
… Three weeks of planning, whirlwind preparation, doctor’s appointments, and crazy days.
Bailey, Christina and their mother, who was thrilled to be marrying off another daughter so soon, worked long hours to make this wedding as elegant as Bailey’s had been in a fraction of the time.
Again the reception would be at Circle C Ranch, and Grace volunteered to cook most of the food. She loved her new job as chef for the ranch and partial nanny to Faith.
Mrs. Ward offered to send out a host of pies for the occasion full of late spring goodness—strawberry, rhubarb, early summer berries.
Her restaurant had been closed of course, because of all the damage, but thankfully,