“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone softer than I’d ever heard it.
So unGunnarlike. I blinked up at him, annoyed that fatigue continued to cling to me when he looked so utterly perfect.
“Zaila, you’re so pale. You look unwell. What’s wrong?”
“I…” The words stuck in my throat because I remembered his response when I’d asked him point-blank about us: “You’re so young. You have your whole life in front of you. In twenty-five years, I’ll be almost seventy, in thirty, I’ll be elderly, and you…You’ll still be in your prime. Why would you even consider tying yourself to me, knowing you’d have to be a caregiver? I don’t want that for you.”
Instead of hearing him tell me no, as I had before, now I saw and listened to the concern in his words—for me. He thought he was too old, and maybe he was, but that didn’t stop my feelings for him. “Ah, I understand.” I smiled a little, though my eyes welled. “I’m so sorry I didn’t grasp what you were trying to tell me.”
He stepped closer, concern pinching the skin between his eyes. “Something is wrong. Tell me. Whatever you need, I’ll help you.”
Just as he had been when my mother died, Gunnar Evaldson was a good man. A wonderful man. I wished he could see himself as I did.
A terrible cramp seized my abdomen. I gritted my teeth against the shriek that built in my throat as I doubled over, panting. “Oh, this hurts…” I gasped, panic ripping through my chest, followed by pain.
“You’re bleeding. Good God, Zaila.…” Gunnar lunged forward, his arms outstretched, fear flaring in his eyes as another terrible pain ripped through my midsection, stronger than before.
I focused on my breathing as my insides tore apart. Then...nothing.
Gunnar’s concerned face was inches from mine when I blinked my eyes open. Lord, he had beautiful eyes, like diamonds reflecting the bluest sky. I beamed at him, enjoying the floating sensation. While I didn’t remember being intimate with him, I must have, because this was how I always felt post-orgasm. “Hi.”
“You terrified me.”
“Blunt, as usual.”
He shifted on the mattress, and I felt his hip with my knee. Strange. Gunnar kissed like a god and touched me as if I were the finest porcelain. Yet sitting next to me, wanting to be close, seemed out of character.
“Dammit, Zaila.”
“What?” I asked, noting the strain around his mouth and the echoes of terror in his eyes. “What is it?” Then I slumped back against the too-hard pillow, my memory rushing back. “I started bleeding…the cramps.”
He shook his head, his gaze never leaving mine. He made a rough sound as if the words cost him. “It was an ectopic pregnancy. You arrived at the hospital before your fallopian tube burst.”
I shook my head. “That’s…that can’t be right.”
His lips kicked up for a millisecond. “I would never lie to you, Z. Especially about something that important. But not about anything. I need you to know that.”
I tried to push into a sitting position, but my abdomen to ached too much. “Ectopic…did I lose my ovary?” I whispered.
His expression was solemn. “No, but it’s damaged.”
This time, panic rose, circling with desolation. “Did I lose my ability to have kids? Gunnar, can…can I have a child?” Hysteria gripped my guts and rose in my throat.
His eyes slid closed for a moment. He smoothed away the wetness under my eyes before he cupped my cheek. “Well, you have two ovaries, so I don’t think so, but I don’t really know. But I need you to know something: I would have adored our child nearly as much as I adore you,” Gunnar said, his voice thick.
I pressed my cheek into his palm as we locked eyes. “I can’t believe I was pregnant. What happens now?”
“Ah, well, the doctor said she’d talk to you.”
Admitting he was less than on top of the scenario told me just how rattled Gunnar was. The reality of his words sank in: I had been pregnant. And now…had I damaged my ability to have a child? Anger, hurt, and confusion pinged through me, and I realized how much I wanted to have children—Gunnar’s children—one day. I tried to swallow and ended up coughing. He grabbed the cup from the rolling tray and positioned the straw at my mouth. I took a small sip before I turned away.
“When can I talk to the doctor?” I asked. I needed to not get carried away. This didn’t change anything about my situation with Gunnar. Of course he wasn’t going to leave me bleeding on the floor. But why had he come to my house? What had he wanted? I shoved my hand through my hair, wincing when something caused a sharp pull on my scalp.
“Easy,” Gunnar murmured. He extricated my hand from my hair, and I stared, open-mouthed, at a gorgeous, thick platinum band set with tiny diamonds spiraling in two rows toward a bluish-purple stone. He plucked a couple of long, dark hairs from the prongs holding the larger row of baguette diamonds closest to the stone.
“What…” My gaze shot to his before dropping to the ring, then back up. “What…”
For the first time since I’d known him, Gunnar seemed unsure. His cheeks flushed, and he fidgeted with the ring, spinning it to sit in the middle of my finger.
