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She raised her head, met his gaze, and as her shoulders gradually sank, she nodded. “I’m sorry.”
He frowned with regret. “I knew it.”
“By my whining?”
“No. This was the first morning that I didn’t ask about your period.”
“Foster.” She’d been mistaken. It wasn’t regret behind his expression but self-reproach. He’d been tracking her cycle diligently, asking about it every day, sometimes several times a day.
“I jinxed it this morning by not getting up in time to see you off before you left for your breakfast meeting. I always ask you about your period first thing in the morning. This morning, I didn’t ask.”
“Foster, believe it or not, my menstrual cycle doesn’t depend on your asking about it.”
“You were late.”
“Only two days.”
“Why were you late?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve never been late before.”
“Not usually, no.”
“Then why now?”
“I don’t know, Foster,” she said, trying to contain her impatience. “Stress, maybe.”
“Dammit!” He struck the arms of his wheelchair three times. “When you didn’t start two days ago, I let myself begin to hope. I should have asked. If I’d have asked—”
“I would have menstruated anyway.”
“We’ll never know.”
“I know. My temperature had dropped, indicating I wasn’t pregnant. I’ve felt premenstrual for days. That’s why I’ve been draggy and tired. I hoped I was wrong but…” She shook her head wistfully. “I dreaded telling you.”
“It’s not your fault. Come here.”
His soft tone compelled her to set aside the paperwork. When she reached him, he guided her onto his lap. She sat down gingerly. “Don’t let me hurt you.”
“If only you could.” They smiled at each other but left unsaid the many things they always left unsaid about the accident and its residual effect on their lives. He squeezed her shoulder affectionately. “This is a letdown, but it’s not a defeat. You did everything you could.”
“Which obviously wasn’t enough.”
“Success has been delayed. That doesn’t equate to failure.”
She ducked her head, murmuring, “You know me so well.”
“I know how your overachiever’s mind works. Sometimes to a disadvantage.”
Both being type A personalities, they had compared their childhoods and discovered that, despite the sizable financial gap between the two families, they had been reared similarly. Her parents, like his, had expected much from their only child.
Both their fathers had been dominant but not unloving. The pressure to succeed that they had placed on their children was more implied than overt, but that didn’t make it any less effective.
Her father had been career Air Force, a bomber pilot who’d served two tours of duty in Vietnam. After the war, he was a test pilot and trainer. A natural daredevil and risk taker, he rode his motorcycle without a helmet, slalomed on both water and snow, went skydiving and bungee jumping.
He died in his sleep. A cerebral aneurysm burst. He never knew what hit him.
