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Jack walks up to us. He was waiting outside Maria’s room. I’ve got guards once more on both Maria and Kathleen though Kathleen is still in ICU.
“Sir? Davis Estate?” Jack asks in his usual no non-sense timber.
I shake my head. “We’re stopping at a drug store, then going to the penthouse.”
Jack’s jaw tightens, and I cut my gaze at him so sharply he doesn’t respond just nods. Thank Christ. The last thing I need right now is insubordination. Not that I treat him like any of my other employees, but right now, I’m sure he can feel the tension filling the space around me. I clutch Gillian to my side, holding her close. Fuck. I can’t get her close enough. If she’d let me carry her through the hospital I would. She could be growing my baby within her right this very minute. That thought speaks deeply to the caveman within me. As we walk by, I want to growl and bark at any person who so much as bumps into her.
I clench my teeth, and we walk briskly out of the hospital. Jack ushers us into the blacked out SUV and we’re off.
I have Gillian wait in the car while I go into Walgreen’s alone, to Jack’s extreme discomfort. At this point, I don’t fucking care. It’s none of his business what I’m doing, and I don’t want her worrying about anything. She’s been through too fucking much already. When I find the right aisle I’m shocked by how many options there are. Shouldn’t it just be one? Take this test and find out pregnant or not. Instead of dealing with reading them, I grab one of each and head up to the register.
“Whoa, Dude. Sorry man,” the young man looks at me knowingly while ringing up each test. “Had a few scares myself,” he offers, and I want to punch his backwards hat wearing, pimply face in the teeth, just so he’ll shut the fuck up. I narrow my gaze at him and hand him two hundred dollar bills when the total comes out to one hundred and eighty something. I snatch up the bags and leave without getting a receipt or the change.
“Dude, your change,” the kid yells.
“Keep it,” I growl over my shoulder. Jack has parked directly in front of the store blocking the entrance. He’s already opening my door when I come out. His eyes glance down at the bag full of tests clearly visible through the mostly translucent bags. Fucking cheap bags. His eyes widen and a small smirk appears.
“Not a fucking word.” The words come out as if dipped in acid.
Jack doesn’t care about my overbearing, demonstrative ways. He’s known me far too long to give a shit about ruffling my feathers. “Never. Sir.” he says anyway, a small smile on his lips. Again, the need to punch someone in the face roars through me.
We make it across town to the penthouse. I’m gripping Gillian’s hand so tight she’s caressing the top of my hand, trying to soothe me. When the hell did the tables turn around so that she was comforting me? She hasn’t said anything since the hospital. I’m worried about her, the flashback, the stress of seeing Maria and Kathleen in the hospital and now this.
It’s not as though I don’t want to have children. I do. Ever since she put the idea in my head all those months ago, I’d wanted to see her bloom with my child growing inside her, but I’d rather have it be during a time where we can both focus on growing our family and nothing else. A time like this should be about us and our desire to have a child. Not about the psychotic madman who’s after her and the people she loves, while dealing with a prospective progeny.
When we arrive at the top floor of Davis Industries, Jack does a cursory sweep and then we enter. I walk her straight back to our master bathroom and dump out the contents of the two bags.
“Okay. I got one of everything.”
“Chase seriously? One would do.”
I shake my head. “False positives. We need to be sure.”
She blinks up at me and then nods. I can’t place where her emotions are right now. She’s definitely solemn yet not giving anything to let me know how she feels otherwise. This has to be a hit to her psyche. I wonder if I should call Dr. Madison. Have him come here, talk with us once we know. Either way, she’s going to need to work through this. I just hope she can do most of that with me. I want to be the one who can soothe her, bring her back to the happy, beautiful self I know that’s hiding under all that pain. The woman who was carefree in Ireland. Right then, I promise to take her back there, to put that smile on her face once more.
I pull out the first three tests in the bag, rip open each package and dump them on the counter. “You need some water?”
She nods, so I fill the glass by her vanity and hand it to her. Like the appeasing woman she can easily turn into, she downs it all. I hand her three sticks. “Think you can urinate on all of them at once?”
That question gets me a grin. A full-fledged, knock-down, drag-out, beautiful one. “Do you like sex?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course I do.” I stumble over the answer and this time she smiles wide, all hints of fear and nervousness leave her.
“Then don’t ask me stupid questions, and I won’t ask you stupid questions.”
I chuckle. “She jokes.” I grip her outstretched arm, pull her close, and kiss her with everything I have in me. The fear, the anticipation, and all the love I have for her. I pour it into that one kiss so she knows, canfeelwhat I am incapable of telling her. That no matter what happens, we’re together, and we can take anything on. That I love her and will love our child if that’s what’s meant to be for us.
She pulls back and her eyes are glazed, brimming with love and lust even now during this tense time. “Christ, I love you,” I growl into her face and then take her lips again.
Breathless, she pulls back. “It’s a good thing because I love you right back,” she says with a wink then takes the three tests and enters the little cove.
While she’s in there I grab a shoebox from our closet and dump out the new Louis Vuitton’s Dana must have purchased for Gillian. My girl rarely shops and when she does, it’s always bargain basement. That little reminder of what we used to be puts a smile on my face as I bring the empty box to her. She opens the door with the three tests in her hand.
“Put them in the box.” She does and I set it on the counter, grab her hand then bring her to our bed. As she stands there, I unbutton her shirt and push it off her shoulders.
One of her eyebrows rises into an arch toward her hairline. “What are you doing?” she asks.
“Need to feel your skin.” I say and she nods standing there in pants and a camisole. With one hand I pull my shirt over my head. Then I remove her pants leaving her in her tiny shirt and panties then remove my own so I’m in only boxers. Grabbing her hand in one of mine, and pulling back the comforter with the other, I lead her into our bed.
