A Convenient Proposal - By Lynnette Kent Page 0,59
boy.
Griff had escorted Arden from the cottage, of course. They were, in the eyes of his family, an engaged couple with a shared future ahead of them. And they’d become very good at keeping up the pretense. In public.
In private, their relationship had taken a long step backward. Those rules they’d talked about in the beginning—no prying, no confessions—were back in full force.
Tonight, Arden seemed even quieter than usual. She held the ultrasound print for about five seconds before passing it on to Dana, on her other side, without comment. Then she looked down at her plate again.
Following her gaze, Griff saw that she only toyed with her roast chicken. He put an arm along the back of her chair and leaned close to speak into her ear. “Feeling okay?”
She nodded without looking at him. “Fine.”
He couldn’t confront her about that lie in front of the family. Later, when they walked out to the cottage, he tried.
“What were you thinking,” he asked, as they lingered on the porch, “when you were looking at the ultrasound?”
“I don’t know.” She glanced away from him. “Cute, sweet…the usual.”
Griff turned her around with a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think so. More like, ‘How will I survive the next hour until I can be alone?’”
“Not at all.”
“You wore that exact same look when we left the little girl with her mother at the mall. The one you found under the rack of coats. It was as if something terribly precious had been taken from you.”
She walked to the end of the porch. “I want a child, you know that. Seeing other people’s babies, I—I have to work hard not to be jealous.”
Griff went to stand behind her, and couldn’t resist closing his arms around her. “You’ll have a baby of your own soon enough.” His laugh sounded harsher than he intended. “We’re working on it. That was part of the deal, remember?”
She moved, turning to face him. Her expression was a portrait of despair. “Yes. I remember.”
Then her hands linked behind his neck and pulled his head down. Their mouths met, fused, consumed.
Once they made it inside the house, the sex was hotter than ever.
ARDEN ARRIVED AT Dr. Loft’s office with time to spare, but then had to wait for an hour, due to the doctor’s attendance at an emergency. Between trying not to think about the reason she was there in the first place and worrying about what the doctor might have to say, she had reached a high state of tension by the time her name was called.
Waiting another thirty minutes in the small examining room didn’t help, even though she didn’t have to take off any of her clothes this time. Arden couldn’t read, couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t relax. She could only sit and fret.
Finally, a knock on the door preceded the doctor’s entrance. “Hi, Arden.” Dr. Loft smiled widely. “I’m glad to see you because I have good news.”
Arden sat up straighter. “Really?”
“The ultrasound looks great,” she said. “No adhesions or blockages, no inflammation, nothing that should prevent a normal pregnancy from coming to term.”
“What…what about the other baby?” Arden asked in a low voice.
“We often don’t know why a baby is lost. Stress, or a defect in the fetus itself…there’s no easy way to tell. But what I can say is that you’re in good shape, and I see no reason you shouldn’t have a healthy baby soon. It’s just a matter of time.”
Arden lifted her shoulders, making room for the deep breath she pulled in. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“I’m sure you are.” The doctor rose from her stool. “I’ll get you a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and you can call to set up a test when you think you might be pregnant.”
“One more thing.” Arden clenched her hands into fists.
Dr. Loft turned with her hand on the doorknob. “What’s that?”
“I’d like to get fitted with a diaphragm. For birth control.”
Chapter Twelve
It had been one hell of a week.
Now that Griff had returned, his dad increased the surgery load at the clinic and okayed a heavier appointment schedule on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, with farm visits set up for Tuesdays and Thursdays. Emergencies, as always, got fitted in immediately.
As a result, the workday stretched until seven-thirty or eight, or even later if a patient needed supervision or a farm emergency required more time. Griff spent all Tuesday night at the clinic, treating a collicking pony. If the pony hadn’t cleared his intestinal blockage by noon on Wednesday, the