7

Monday morning Darla walked to her car, scanning the windshield as she neared. And swallowed her acute disappointment when finding it devoid of an envelope. She spent the whole trip to work castigating herself for being weak. For reading more into his unexpected behavior. He’d given her a gift. So what? It was customary to bring gifts when one travels.

But the note on the car? Him attending church?

She shook her head.

Get a grip, girl. He isn’t dependable. Remember, he left you before.

Yet she couldn’t stop her gaze zeroing on her desk when she stepped into her office.

It was as she left it Saturday afternoon.

She collapsed onto her chair and stabbed a finger at the tablet. Her patients deserved her undivided focus.

It was mid-morning during a break between patients when Mindy entered her office, a huge grin on her face. “This just arrived for you,” she sing-songed, placing a package before her. It was from Decadence, the logo in the corner of the lid a dead giveaway of its origin

Darla stared at the baker’s box, a huge pink-and-white striped bow concealing its contents, with a mix of excitement and bafflement. She knew it was from him without even looking at the envelope wedged beneath the ribbon.

But why ? This was the third day he communicated in some form with her. What was he up to?

“Well,” Mindy said, rocking back and forth on her feet. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

She shot the receptionist a quelling look. “Some privacy, please,” she snapped.

Mindy’s smile vanished, replaced with hurt. “My bad,” she whispered, and scurried to the door.

“Wait,” Darla called out, inwardly cursing her bitchy behavior. “Sorry, Mindy. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay,” Mindy replied, closing the door behind her. The snick, although soft, seemed to reverberate around the room.

Darla hung her head and rubbed her hand over her forehead. She was never rude to her staff. Never. It was so unprofessional. But dammit, Bobby had her in turmoil.

She blew out her breath and stared at his latest …

What was it, exactly?

Gift? Peace offering? Apology? Bribe?

“Ugh!” She yanked the envelope out. Her name was scrawled across the front. It was unsealed, and she pulled the card out. A red number three and star shaped cookie on a pale creamy-yellow background. Hand shaking lightly, she inhaled her breath and flipped it over.

You looked radiant yesterday, Darla. These cupcakes reminded me of the pretty dress you wore.

Darla dropped her arms, staring at his message in defeat. She had no resistance to such beautiful words.

Did that make her weak? Foolish? A sucker for punishment?

Or a woman realizing she was still in love with a man.

A man wanting a second chance.

She placed her hands over her belly. “What do I do, Bean?” she whispered, leaning her head against the back of her chair. Bobby would never abandon his child. That she knew with utter certainty. And this unborn baby, a mere pinprick-sized embryo at this stage, would bind them for life.

Could they — dare she even think it — do this together together?

Her stomach grumbled. And she chuffed a laugh, hoping the box contained cupcakes. She was a sucker for cupcakes, something Bobby would know. And Decadence made the most superb cupcakes.

She pulled the box closer, eager to find out what reminded him of the burgundy-colored wrap dress with its vibrant pink and white lily motif she wore yesterday.

She pulled apart the bow and lifted the lid.

And sucked in her breath.

Six red-velvet cupcakes with swirls of red, pink, and white icing sprinkled with little hearts of the same three colors. They were Decadence’s Valentine special. And it was a long way from February, so that meant he ordered them specially. This wasn’t just a regular walk-into-the-bakery-and-select-six-cupcakes from their display. Bobby had planned it. He’d seen her yesterday while attending church, liked her dress, gone to the bakery, and requested a special order for today.

Two decimated cupcakes later, Darla wiped her sticky fingers on a wet wipe from the dispenser and picked up her cellphone.

Thank you for the cupcakes. Delicious.

I hold you responsible for the extra five pounds on my ass.

His reply was almost instant.

You’re welcome.

I’ll bring dinner tomorrow. See you at six.

Dinner? They hadn’t shared a meal since, well, since years ago.

She was still pondering the unexpected statement when his next text arrived.

And now I cannot stop thinking of your delightfully fine arse.

Her heart stuttered. He’d always admired the curvy part of her figure. But she had no idea how to respond, so she typed:

You’re full of shit. Go rake some.

* salute emoji *

Darla wasn’t sure how she felt about the stupid grin she had on her face when she placed her cellphone down beside card number three.

Three?

She rushed to her locker, dug out the other two cards from her bag, and raced back to her office. Laying them down with the third, her gaze bouncing between them. And grinned, her stomach exploding with butterflies.

What would number four say?

*

It was on her windshield the next morning. Heart hammering, Darla pounced on it, ripping the envelope. A row of red and blue Christmas stockings hung from a line. And the message …

Still thinking of your ravishing arse.

A laugh burst from her, and she was still sporadically giggling when she arrived at work. She pulled up as Mindy emerged from her car.

“You’re in a good mood today,” the young woman remarked, holding the back door of the clinic open for her.

The statement instantly sobered her mood. “Look, Mindy, about snapping yesterday—”

Mindy held her hand up, stalling Darla’s words. “It’s forgotten. And the cupcake made up for it. We’re all allowed a bad day every so often.”

The results from the lab arrived in her inbox just before lunch. She had finally plucked up the courage to have blood drawn and tested yesterday after recovering from her sugar rush. She could give Bobby definitive proof later tonight.

Yet she hesitated in opening the email.

“Don’t be silly. You know .”

She double clicked, and it took a mere second to pick out the pertinent information. Her eyes closed, and she leaned back. “We’ll tell your daddy tonight, Bug.”

*

Unfortunately, Darla had to cancel several hours later:

Tied up with an emergency. Need to cancel tonight.

Without waiting for a reply, she powered down her cellphone and got ready to scrub up and join the medical team waiting for her. She went straight to her patient’s side. It wasn’t often she entered an operating theater, but when she did it was generally under dire circumstances. Like this one.

“Did I do something wrong?” Inez asked again when Darla took hold of her hand.

“Oh, no, sweet girl. Not at all.” She had promised Inez to stay right by her side from the moment she failed to pick up the heartbeat when Inez came in for an examination after reporting there had been no movement for more than twenty-four hours. It was clear Inez’s baby boy had died. The traumatized teen had elected a C-section as opposed to induced labor.

“I’m scared, Darla.”

“I know.” She wiped a dark tendril of damp hair from Inez’s forehead.

“You’ll stay the whole time?”

“I won’t leave until you wake up, honey.”

A tear escaped and ran down her temple, disappearing beneath the blue cap. “Promise?”

“I promise.” Darla squeezed the trembling hand. The anesthetist caught her eye, ready to start, and she nodded. “Here we go, honey. Breathe—”

Inez jerked, panic flashing across her face as her eyes skittered about.

Darla placed her free hand on Inez’s face. “Eyes on me, love.” She waited until Inez obeyed, her gaze wide and wild with fear. “Let’s breathe together. Inhale. Exhale.” She took deep breaths, so the movement was noticeable beneath the mask covering half her face. “Slow and deep, love. Slow and deep. In. Out. Good girl, Inez. You’re going to be just fine. Breathe again. That’s right. We’re going to start now, honey. Okay?”

Eyes locked on Darla’s, her death grip easing somewhat, Inez gave a small nod, tears now flowing freely. Darla fought back her own. Time for that later. “That’s my brave, brave girl.”

The anesthetist positioned the mask, and Darla shifted to maintain eye contact, murmuring encouragement until Inez’s eyelids fluttered closed.

*

Darla pulled into her parking spot, bone-weary and fraught with pent-up emotion. She shifted into park but couldn’t summon the energy to get out. Her head slumped back, and she stared unseeing through the windshield, her mind filled with the image of Inez—

A light knock on her car window ripped her from her dark thoughts, and she turned her head to the side.

It was Bobby.

Darla frowned. What was he doing here? She had canceled. Her frown deepened. Hadn’t she? She was too tired to recall.

He knocked again, his mouth moving, the “Unlock your door” barely audible.

She didn’t want Bobby here. She just wanted to be alone and wallow. But her finger found the unlock button, and she depressed it. He opened the door and leaned in.

“Go home,” she muttered, looking away.

“Not a chance.” He reached across her body and unsnapped the seatbelt.

She batted at his arm.

“Just let me help you inside, love. You’ve had a hard day.”

Help? When last had someone helped her . It was her job to help others. She always helped others. But she hadn’t helped Inez.

“What if I lose our baby?” she whispered, the tears she had contained all day finally spilling over.

Bobby crouched and cupped the side of her face, twisting her head to look at him. His eyes glittered under the dim overhead light. “Then I’ll hold you and grieve with you,” he whispered back.

Hold her.

She wanted that. So very much. “Will you hold me tonight?”