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As time ticked between them, she turned the wheelchair to face him. Her movements weren’t smooth, but weren’t too bad considering today was probably the first time she’d used it. At least, Larry hadn’t mentioned Liz having outings. And although Adam’s office was technically a part of the hospital, the general surgery ambulatory clinic was quite a trek from the medical floor.
Liz in a wheelchair.
She would recover, he knew that, but the sight of her condition hit him badly.
Her gaze met his and he saw a thousand emotions dancing in the depths of her eyes.
“Adam.”
His name sounded sweet on her lips, but she didn’t mean it as an endearment. More like a well-deserved reprimand.
“We need to talk.”
“The last time we talked didn’t end so well.” He gestured to her wheelchair.
“My accident had nothing to do with our ‘talk’. Yes, I was upset when I crashed, but that deer didn’t know my world had fallen to bits.”
“I’m sorry, Liz,” he automatically apologized, trying to figure out where to start on winning Liz’s forgiveness. On putting the bits of her world back together in a way where they could find happiness again.
“Before we get into why I’m here, Adam, thank you for what you did for May. I stopped by her hospital room to see her and she looks wonderful. Thank you.”
Pride filled him at Liz’s praise. He’d been given hell from the board, but seeing the pride in Liz’s eyes gave him the stamina to face ten boards. God, he’d missed her.
If he hadn’t thought she’d slap him, he’d take her in his arms and kiss her until she was breathless.
She rolled her wheelchair past him and after a few jerky movements closed the door. Not a loud slam, just a quiet catching of the latch. “Sit down.”
Watching her in the wheelchair left him immobile, weak-kneed. Her strength of will amazed him, left him a little in awe of her. He had more than a sneaking suspicion that had their situations been reversed, Liz would have faced a diagnosis of MS head on rather than trying to withdraw from life.
He’d been such a fool.
A well-intentioned fool, but a fool all the same.
“Sit down,’ she repeated, her voice terse. “I don’t want you towering over me, and I can’t stand up. Yet.”
Adam crossed his arms and bit back a smile. Seeing her spunk did his heart good. She really was getting better, would heal and get her life back. Her strength would push him, help him be a better man, would force him to fight his MS and win.
Could she forgive him?
“I came to tell you on the night I had the crash but…” She compressed her lips a moment. “Well, things didn’t go as I’d hoped. Telling you in the middle of the day while you’re at work isn’t ideal, but you need to know, before you find out from someone else,” she continued, gripping the armrests of her wheelchair until her knuckles whitened. “So here I am.”
He quirked an eyebrow, trying to figure out what she was talking about, wondering how he was going to ask her to love a man who had an iffy future, to give him a second chance and overlook these past few weeks.
How did you tell someone that you’d felt like you’d been given a death sentence and didn’t want to drag them down, too? That you’d forgotten that it wasn’t the quantity but the quality that defined a person’s life?
“I’m pregnant.”
Pregnant?
God, no. He couldn’t have heard Liz correctly.
He sat down, realizing too late that he wasn’t as close to his desk as he’d thought and slipped, regaining his balance only in the nick of time to keep from falling. Not a smooth move, but he was so shaken inside he wasn’t sure he’d recognize smooth if it whacked him across the face.
“What did you say?” Please, don’t let him have made Liz pregnant. Not when any baby he gave her would carry his defective genes.
Her lower lip disappeared b
etween her teeth, but her gaze remained locked with his. “I’m pregnant, Adam.”
