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The vein at his temple threatened to burst open. Nausea tore at his gag reflex. “How?”
“How?” She gave him a confused look. “You know how.”
“It’s mine?” Of course Liz’s baby would be his, but she’d be so much better off if it weren’t. God, he wished it weren’t.
Last night, when he’d considered winning Liz’s forgiveness, he’d thought about the future. In his mind he’d thought they could adopt or have artificial insemination from a healthy donor. Never in any of his wildest dreams of begging Liz to forgive him had he considered making her pregnant. Never.
“I’m not going to dignify your question with an answer.” She glared at him. “Coming here was a mistake. But I had to tell you about our baby.” Her hands shook. “From your reaction I…well, just know that I don’t expect anything from you. I just thought you should know.”
“How far along are you?”
She paused, scraped her fingernail over the rubber coating on the wheelchair’s armrest. “According to the ultrasound Dr Graviss ran, I’m fourteen weeks.”
“Fourteen weeks.” There was no mistaking the look of relief on his face. “That’s not too late for an abortion.”
His heart ached at the thought, but there would be other babies. Babies conceived through artificial insemination. Babies who wouldn’t be at high risk of developing MS.
Fourteen weeks. He thought back to when that would have been. Fourteen weeks ago he’d made love to Liz and put his baby in her belly.
They’d always used a condom. Always. But he did recall one afternoon. Gramps had had a rough night and they’d thought he wouldn’t pull through, but somehow he had yet again managed to hang on. Hospice had come on schedule and he’d whisked an unsure Liz to his place to get a few hours’ rest and relaxation. Instead, they’d made love, clinging to each other for reaffirmation of life after a night of battling death for a beloved grandfather. They’d used a condom, but when he’d taken it off it had torn.
Or maybe it had already been torn?
Oh, hell. How could he have been so irresponsible as to start a baby when he stood a chance of passing on a horrible disease to an innocent child? Liz’s child.
His gaze met Liz’s and he saw the horrendous hurt in her glassy eyes.
“You bastard.” She slid her fingers until she connected with the wheels. Moving back to the door, she leaned forward. Although it took a couple of tries, she maneuvered the wheelchair to where she opened the door and rolled out.
Stunned, Adam watched her disappear from his office.
Emotions he couldn’t begin to identify swelled in his chest and pushed him into motion. He ran after her, catching up just as she thanked one of his patients for opening the door to let her out to the main hospital hallway. Kelly waited impatiently, tapping her foot and glaring at Adam.
“Liz?” He grabbed hold of the handle of her chair, stopping her progress because she either hadn’t seen him or hadn’t cared to stop if she had.
She didn’t speak, didn’t even look up at him, just stared straight ahead.
“What does this mean?” he asked.
Her forehead wrinkled and her gaze lifted. “What do you mean, what does this mean?”
What did he mean?
“For us?”
“Did you forget?” Her eyes turned cold, colder than he’d ever seen Liz, colder than he would have thought possible from Liz. She rolled free of his stunned grasp. “There is no us.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ANY hope or belief in Adam shriveled up and died the moment he suggested an abortion.
The look on his face when she’d told him about their baby would haunt Liz all the days of her life.
He’d looked horrified.
Like he might throw up. Or pass out. Or just keel over with disgust.
He wanted her to have an abortion!
