Page 9 of His to Keep

“You look beautiful. Stop fussing.”

That made me glare at him, even as the compliment made my heart perk up a little. “What?”

“Not just with the shirt. I heard you talking in there. You’re doing a great job. New place, new career, new life. And you’re carrying a baby.” He took a breath, his handsome features schooling back into an impassive look. “I know that Emerson is very grateful to you. What you’re giving him is… Well, it’s everything.”

I stared, those tears still lurking behind my eyelids, but this time for another reason entirely.

“Stop fussing. Let’s get moving.”

I couldn’t speak now if I tried. I just stepped forward. To my surprise, Gates swung a heavy arm around my shoulders for a moment. It pressed my face into his chest, and I closed my eyes, soaking up the quiet strength there.

The drive to the doctor was uneventful and quick. I’m not sure what Gates told Timothy, but the driver pressed the speed limit hard this time. In a blur, we were checked in and plopped down in a creaky vinyl seat when Gates shocked me by dropping into the chair next to me. He spread his thighs and shot me a totally unexpected smirk as I raised my brows at him.

“I’m glad one of us is having fun,” I teased, thinking of the urine and blood tests that were waiting for me behind the inner office doors.

Gates snorted, surprising me again. “I don’t think any of these women, or very intimidated men, seem to be much of a threat. For once, I can relax a little.”

“Oh, you poor thing. Chasing around a boring pregnant preschool teacher must be hard work.”

Gates raised one brow. “You have no idea.”

I laughed, the sound making him smile a bit wider. “Who are you right now?”

He didn’t get to answer, as the nurse quickly called me back. I didn’t miss the appreciative glance that she sent over the man at my back. But instead, I enjoyed it a little. He wasn’t really mine, but it was nice to have someone regardless.

***

Chapter 4

Emerson

My stupid foot wouldn’t quit tapping. It was completely outrageous to think something would happen to Whitney between the bathroom and the exam room, but now that I was here, staring at the various graphics depicting babies on the walls, nerves grew.

We were so close to move-in day.

Four weeks. One month. Then I’d be able to lay eyes on her and my baby whenever I wanted. I needed to tell her far before that who I was. I should’ve told her weeks ago. But every day that I promised myself I would, I chickened out.

Because she was quite possibly the most perfect representation of what I’d been looking for. If I’d designed her and ordered her online, she wouldn’t have been more perfect.

And I wasn’t stupid. I knew the girl could cuss like a sailor and sucked at baking. But she was also kind. She was beautiful. And there was something inside her that reached straight into my chest and yanked out my heart.

I think it was hers now.

Or at least it wanted to be.

So today was fun. I’d been able to let down my guard a little and just enjoy being the dad. Again, secretly. But I could enjoy it all the same.

The waiting room had been a surprise. What woman didn’t have a spouse who showed up for appointments? I would’ve been at each and every one. Every ugly blood test. All the hoops to jump through—that’s what I wanted.

As Gates, I was strangely enabled to do so.

My head jerked back, watching as Whitney came in, her cheeks pink as she moved to settle on the raised chair in the corner of the room.

“Good?”

“So far so good.”

“Do you want me to come with you for your blood work?”

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