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He considered telling her that whatever she was struggling to say could wait. After all, they were just getting to know each other.
But he sensed that they weren’t. She’d been more than a casual business introduction since the second she’d walked into Bill Coniff’s office at the beginning of the week. Clearly she’d sensed something, too, or she wouldn’t be about to share a confidence that only those closest to her had the privilege of knowing.
“I’m not ever going to have children.” For all her struggle, she almost blurted out the words.
Did she somehow think he wanted her to? He then remembered the day before, when he’d told her that Stella had said it was either the baby or him.
“That’s not really how I meant it to come out.” She smiled but her lips were trembling. Flint had to consciously resist an urge to take her hand in his. To have some sort of contact between them.
“Before your... Before she wakes up—and before... Well, so you know going in... I can’t do babies.” Her face reddened and she was clasping her hands again, the way she’d done that day in his office.
“You were great with her,” he said, assuming she needed reassurance for some reason. “The moment you picked he up, she stopped crying.”
She shook her head, pushed her wineglass farther away. He had yet to take a second sip from his.
“You don’t understand.”
He was pretty sure of that.
“I—I can’t have children.”
“Okay. It’s not a problem, Tamara. You figure I’m going to think less of you or something? We all have our crosses to bear.” Thinking he sounded like an idiot, he continued. “I mean, I’m sorry for you, if it was something you wanted. I don’t mean to trivialize that, but...”
Pulling her wineglass toward her, she took another sip. Her glass shook as she raised it to her lips and he just wanted to do whatever it took to put her at ease.
“I don’t know what to say,” he murmured.
She nodded. “No one does. Look, I wouldn’t have brought it up, but...I’ve been through some...hard times. Not that I need to unload all of that on you when you’ve been nice enough to make me homemade lasagna, which I love. But the end result is...I keep my distance from babies. And I don’t hold them. Ever.”
But she had. Just three days ago.
He remembered her odd behavior then. The way she’d clasped her hands so tightly. Wringing them. Had gone for the door. And when she’d turned back, hadn’t looked at Diamond Rose again. She’d been in some deep emotional pain and had done a remarkable job of covering it.
“In Bill’s office, when the monitor went off, you heard that cry...” He let his words fade away, wishing he could do something to ease her pain.
She nodded. Took a piece of cheese. Bit off a small corner and played with the rest.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
With the cheese between the fingers of both hands, she shook her head, then let go with one hand to grab her wineglass. “You don’t have to do this.”
For some reason he did. Covering her cheese hand with his own, Flint said, “I want you to tell me.”
How could he get to know her better without finding out? How could he help her if he didn’t know?
How else could he understand?
Because, God knew, he wasn’t just going to walk away. She’d been sent into that office on Monday for a reason.
She seemed to be weighing the decision. As though fighting a battle. Whether or not to trust him?
Then she glanced up and met his gaze. He felt like he’d won.
“I’ve been pregnant four times.”
Flint’s jaw dropped. Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. She didn’t wear a ring and had asked if he was involved with anyone. He hadn’t even thought to ask if she was. He’d been a little preoccupied.
He wasn’t generally a person who only considered himself. Alana Gold had taught him that through her own bad example.
