Page 67 of Dreamboat

Delia Hawthorne is stunning in whatever she’s wearing, but right now with my T-shirt covering her body, and the faintest glimpse of her black panties peeking out from under them, she’s exquisite.

That has a lot more to do with the way she’s looking at me than it does the outfit.

I see every emotion I’m currently experiencing staring back at me since it’s all there in her expression, but I see something else, too. I see courage. I see compassion. I see what I hope is the beginnings of love.

Delia lowers her ass to the bed, not glancing at the tests. “I need a minute before I take a test.”

I follow suit, tugging on the denim covering my thighs. I hurriedly put on jeans and a button-down shirt before I took off. I had to double back as soon as I left the house because I realized I had forgotten my wallet and keys.

My phone didn’t make the journey with me and even though it’s buzzing non-stop on the nightstand next to the bed, I’m ignoring it.

“You should look at your phone,” Delia remarks, jerking a thumb in its direction. “You’re an important man. Someone seems to really need you right now.”

“You’re the most important woman in the world,” I whisper. “Whoever it is, they can wait.”

“Please, get it,” she insists, glancing at it again as it starts to ring. “Please, Donovan.”

Denying her anything isn’t part of my DNA, so although the last thing I want is to interrupt this moment with a phone call, I go to grab it.

I swipe my finger across the screen to take the call from the clinic’s answering service. “Dr. Hunt.”

Delia’s gaze wanders from my face to her tote bag. It’s sitting on a chair that is typically gathering place for my lab coats, suit jackets, and ties. I tend to dump them all there in route to the bathroom that is attached to my bedroom.

I made a point of sorting through them every couple of days to hang up what needs to find its way into my closet. As for the lab coats, I cart them back to the clinic to be dumped into the bin for the laundry service that does pick up and drop off once a week.

I listen while the man on the other end explains a recent call that came in. Since, Matthew is on call tonight, I relay that to him. He’s new. I know that since I haven’t heard his voice before.

“The patient insisted on talking to you, Dr. Hunt,” he says. “I called Dr. Hawthorne and he did reach out to her about her cat, but she called back ten minutes later and told me she had to talk to you.”

She doesn’t have to. I know the cat in question and its very pushy owner. On any night, I would reach out to her myself and explain that whatever is ailing Leroy, her tabby, can wait until morning.

I can’t do that tonight. My life is on the precipice of changing forever. Delia needs every ounce of my attention.

I glance back over at her and my mouth falls open.

She’s shoving every single pregnancy test into her tote bag. One by one they are disappearing from my view.

“I’ll handle it,” I tell the service employee even though I won’t.

I end the call and take a few steps toward Delia. “Delia?”

When she looks at me, I see a tear falling down her cheek. “I know I said I wasn’t going anywhere before you went to get the tests, but I need to go home.”

“You don’t want to take a test before you go?” I ask evenly, trying to appear calm although I’m anything but that right now.

I’m anxious to know the results.

She drops her gaze to her trembling hands. “Maybe at home.”

Fuck.

I wanted to be with her when she finds out if she’s pregnant, but I can’t push her to take a test she’s not ready for.

“I know you ran out to get all of them.” She brushes a hand over her cheek to chase away the still falling tears. “I think I just need a few minutes to process everything, before I take one. I’m sorry, Donovan. I can pay you back for the tests.”

“No,” I say loudly. “You’re not paying me back for anything and you have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.”

“Okay.” She nods. “I think I’ll go home and think. I need to think.”

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