Page 103 of Where the Wattles Bloom

Despite Rowena’s wiser angels, they’d been sleeping together for two weeks now. Rowena had suggested, the morning after that first spectacular orgasm, that perhaps it was best not to muddy the waters between them. But he’d just gone down on her again and well, what could she say—she’d been weak.

Repeatedly …

‘Have you given any thought to what happens at the end of your contract? It’s your decision, of course,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I’m not trying to tell you what to do. But it’s only four weeks away, and although Lachlan hasn’t said anything to me, I can tell he’s worried about what’s next and where he fits into the picture. And I may be his grandmother, but I don’t think that’s unreasonable.’

Rowena blinked. God, this was worse than being asked to explain their … situation-ship.

Reggie was asking her intentions!

‘I … don’t know, Reggie.’ And that was the honest truth. ‘I’m trying not to think beyond returning to work.’ Hell, she hadn’t even told her parents about the baby. Their relationship was … complicated, and they’d also lived through the ups and downs of Rowena’s chequered fertility history, so she’d been mentally putting that off until she returned to Sydney.

The older woman regarded her for a beat or two, and for a moment Rowena thought she might back off, but she didn’t.

‘I hope you don’t mind me speaking frankly when I suggest that maybe it’s about time you did?’

Rowena blinked as Reggie’s quiet salvo landed.

‘You’re not naive, Rowena. You have to know Lachlan is as invested in the baby as you are. And I know he’s not been wanting to push you and I don’t want to either. If we had more time, I wouldn’t be having this conversation, but we don’t. Time is ticking by and I don’t think you should leave here without a solid plan in place for the future.’

If Reggie had hoped to chasten Rowena, she succeeded. The older woman was right—Lachlan had a right to have a say in what happened next, and just because he’d not pushed her didn’t mean he didn’t want answers.

She hadn’t wanted to plan because, yes, she’d been putting all her focus on getting back to the NICU. But, deep down, if she was really honest with herself, there was still a nagging, gnawing worry about something going wrong.

That feeling had grown less as each day passed. As the baby’s movements grew stronger and more frequent. As the sturdy whop, whop, whop of her heartbeat thrummed reassuringly every time Rowena ran a handheld doppler over her stomach during quiet times at work.

But she was pretty sure it would never fully dissipate. Not until she’d given birth to a healthy squalling newborn.

And if she was alone in this situation, she could probably ride that out. She wasn’t, though. There was Lachlan. Who’d been patient and kind and there for her every step of the way. Lachlan who had his own responsibilities and obligations.

So, they needed a plan.

‘You’re right,’ Rowena said, nodding.

The older woman raised a shaggy grey eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. ‘I’m always right.’

Rowena laughed. She was a wise old bird, that was for sure. ‘I’ll talk to him.’

Reggie nodded. ‘Thank you.’

Twenty-Five

An hour later, Lachlan approached the bunkhouse deck, Red at his heels, the frustrations of the day weighing heavily on his shoulders. To say he was disappointed to have missed the ultrasound appointment was the understatement of the century, and he was still mad as hell at himself for going to the meeting.

And then there was his guilt over his feelings when two people had died on that road today. Two people who wouldn’t be sitting around dining room tables with their families tonight.

His time in accident investigation afforded him an intimate understanding of what those scenes were like. How horrific they could be. How they left an indelible mark on first responders and emergency services personnel.

Which made him feel worse.

Because, according to Reggie—who was beaming from ear to ear—the ultrasound had gone well, and surely that was all that mattered.

She’d passed him the image—even though he’d looked at the digital ones about a hundred times while he’d waited for the road to open—and excitedly gave him the Cliff’s Notes version. And he was really grateful to Rowena for giving his grandmother, who was always a bastion of calm, such a special experience. It had clearly been thrilling.

But, damn it—he’d wanted to be there.

Each morning he woke with Rowena snuggled into his side, his heart floating like a balloon, his chest awash with conflicting emotions. Gratitude that their relationship had blossomed, but also dread. Aware she was one day closer to leaving.

One day closer to going back to the city.