Page 38 of Prognosis Christmas Baby

Maggie sat very still. He saw their baby as some kind of error? A blunder? A slip-up? She placed her hand across her stomach, protecting the baby from Nash’s words. No matter what happened, she would never look upon this occurrence as a mistake.

The fact that he did spoke volumes.

‘Oh, I think you did.’

Nash pushed the pads of his fingers into his shut eyes and then dropped his hands to his sides. God, he was tired. ‘I’m sorry, that came out all wrong.’

‘Really? Or maybe it came out just right.’

‘Hell, Maggie, it was the wrong choice of word from the depths of fuzzy night-duty brain. Don’t read any more into it than that.’

Except sometimes when people were tired and their guards were down, they said exactly what they were thinking. Their filters didn’t work and their real thoughts spewed out.

Heat and pressure built in Maggie gut as her ire rose. She didn’t want to be anyone’s responsibility or her baby to be anyone’s mistake. She glared at him. ‘We’re not going to be your cross to bear, Nash.’

Nash rolled his eyes at her melodrama. ‘Oh, please. I just need some time to think about it. Figure it out.’

Maggie felt more and more like an inconvenience. A problem to be solved. A puzzle to crack. Okay, yes, he was tired and this was a shock. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to hang around waiting for him to figure her out.

Figure their mistake out.

She stood. ‘Well, why don’t you go and do that?’ she said frostily. ‘You know your way out.’

Nash shoved a hand through his hair, feeling her expression of utter disdain right down to his toes. She was angry and he pretty damn pissed off, too. He thought about how happy he’d been when he’d opened the front door half an hour ago and couldn’t believe so much could change so quickly.

One thing was for sure, this conversation needed a clear head and open mind and Maggie looked more unreachable than she had in the beginning when she’d refused to even give them a chance.

And he only had himself to blame for that.

‘Fine,’ he said tersely. ‘We’ll talk later.’ And he turned on his heel, not stopping to look back as he strode through the house and let himself out the front door.

Maggie heard the bang from the deck and dragged in a gulp of air, her hands shaking. That had gone well.

Not.

Picking up their mugs, she made her way back into the kitchen and placed them in the sink, her mind completely preoccupied, seesawing between giddy delight and irritation at Nash’s behaviour. But ultimately nothing could trump the realisation that she was pregnant — actually pregnant.

She was grinning as she detoured through the lounge-room to check that Nash had locked the door after his hasty exit and was pulled up short. Through the archway, her gaze fell on the decorated Christmas tree that stood on the coffee table.

Despite the daylight, the artfully spaced fairy-lights winked on and off and a small ‘Oh,’ escaped her lips.

It was beautiful. Rich and green with red tinsel, frosted white ornaments and a gorgeous golden star.

‘Nash,’ she whispered, her hand pressed to her heart, moved by his gesture.

It was typical Nash. To her surprise he’d proven to be quite the romantic. Their relationship may have been clandestine but it hadn’t stopped him from constantly touching her heart with little surprises. From the vase of frangipani blossoms to candlelight picnics in bed and deliveries of her favourite chocolates. He really had spoiled her.

But the tree was something else.

She sat on the lounge and watched the lights blink on and off, her anger at him dissolving temporarily, suddenly miserable that he had left before she’d had a chance to thank him.

She’d deliberately not thought of Christmas in relation to him. She knew he was working on Christmas Day, as was she, but she hadn’t wanted to pry or push as to his plans for the night. She’d hoped they’d spend it together. But now? She was pretty sure whatever they had been building had just come tumbling down.

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Nash went to work thatnight with a lot on his mind. He’d barely slept so he was more tired, crankier and grouchier than he’d ever been in his life. And everyone noticed. Because Nash was never any of those things. Not even in the midst of a crisis. He was laid-back, unfailingly cheerful and if it was there, usually found the humour in any situation.

But tonight he was tense, snappy and grim-faced. And the nurses avoided him like the plague. Lucky for them their quiet streak was continuing so contact with Nash could be minimised. The snake bite patient had gone to the ward at lunchtime, which left only Toby and the duff, duff, duff of his ventilator plus the critical airway baby.

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