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“If you wanted to avoid me, you should have gone somewhere else,” he snapped, catching the door and pushing it open, forcing his way past me.
“Sorry, my mistake. I didn’t realize it was no longer safe to go home,” I snapped back, the sarcasm dripping off of every word. I raced to the kitchen, my throat dry and my head pounding. I downed a bottle of water as he glared at me from the other side of my bar. I gave him a weary look as I took a bottle of Patron out and poured two shots, setting one in front of him while downing my own. The burn was welcome as I prayed for a quick buzz. The dream had left me raw and emotional, and I wanted nothing more than to feel numb again.
Dean capped the Patron. I shrugged and grabbed his shot, downing it.
“I want answers,” he said, moving the bottle out of my reach.
“You haven’t asked any questions.” I grabbed a paper towel and dampened it, wiping off my face.
Dean’s face softened as he took in my appearance. I had to look like hell. I was shaking from the nightmare and covered in sweat.
“Another dream?”
“Yeah, look, I need a shower. I have work tomorrow. Can we do this later?”
“No,” he said adamantly.
I glared at him and took in his disheveled appearance and burst out laughing. His clothes were mismatched and his hair was tucked under a ball cap.
“Well, there’s a first. Mr. Perfect looks like a bum. Tell me, Dean, is this the first time you have ever left your house without your argyle socks?”
His eyes lit fire as he took a step toward me. “I’m fucking warning you now, Dallas, stop.”
“Or what, you’ll go find my iron?” I knew I was being impossible. I was good at it. Jokes were how I had dealt with everything that hurt too much or terrified me.
He quickly grabbed the tequila bottle, apparently changing his mind about it. He took two shots from the glasses I set out before his eyes found mine, holding me where I stood.
“We were doing so good.” I laughed with no humor. He slammed his glass on the counter, making me jump.
“Cut the shit. Tell me why you didn’t say anything.” I had hoped to resume our relationship without dredging up the most painful part of my life, but I knew now that hope was ridiculous. The memory of those days of devastation after losing our baby were the most solid foundation of the wall I held up against Dean. Some part of me, though it was irrational, had always blamed him.
“I didn’t know for the first two months. I’ve skipped periods once or twice a year since I started. It was perfectly normal. Then I started getting sick, but I was already sick most of the time. I was upset, a lot. I missed you. The whole fucking campus was a graveyard filled with memories of the two of us. Did you think it would be easy for me? You had all new surroundings. I had to resume life without you there. Everywhere I looked I saw the two of us. It was just like high school all over again, except this time it wasn’t just a crush.”
“We spoke almost every day,” he reminded me, his hands flat on the counter.
“I know. I hid it well,” I said, looking down at the floor.
“Look at me,” he snapped and I obliged. “Why did you hide it?”
“Well, let’s see, you had just started medical school.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“You say that now, Dean, now, and after the fact, but that was your dream. I didn’t want to take it away from you. And telling you I was pregnant would have done that. I was mortified. I didn’t want to be the one to take it away.”
“I would’ve been here,” he insisted. I watched him go through the emotions and shook my head.
“You have no idea what your true reaction would have been. You can’t look at me today and say you wouldn’t have resented me then, or the baby.”
“Baby…” he trailed off, absently rubbing his finger up and down the shot glass. “Were you going to keep it?”
“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “I was happy about it. I just wasn’t sure you would be.” I braved a look at him and saw unshed tears in his eyes.
“Four months?” His question was a whisper.
“Almost,” I answered. “When I lost it, I just flipped. I couldn’t get in touch with you. You refused to answer my calls, so I went to see you in New York. I was going to tell you, but when you told me we were over, I decided not to.”
He looked at me as if I’d slapped him. “If I would have known…Damn you, Dallas, I can’t fucking believe this!”
