My soul mourns for this woman.
I press my lips into her hair, smelling her unique scent, and say a quick prayer for peace for her.
“You’re going to be okay.” Feeling her hand reaching for me, I grasp it hard in mine, holding both of our arms to her front as I rock her slightly. "The pain won't last always, sweetheart. I promise." I smooth up and down her arms, her belly, and even her hip. Everywhere I can think of touching her to reassure her that she's okay. "I'm right here. No one can hurt you," I murmur, offering her comfort until she stops crying and falls back asleep.
Restless, I stay up a little longer, taking in her scent as well as her sadness. Determined she won't carry it alone.
At least, not tonight. This day has been a lesson in sadness for the both of us.
Chapter fifteen
No Assuming
Iwakeup,swelteringhot, to the sun shining brightly through the curtains, and a thick pair of strong forearms wrapped around me. One hand is on my belly, and theother wedged underneath me and wrapped around my breasts, cradling me intimately. The first thing that hits me is howrightthis feels, how good his hands feel against me, even the breaths that puff against the back of my neck so intimately.
Oh my God.
My mouth falls open, my heart pounds hard, and my cheeks heat up to what I know has to be a fire engine red. I turn to peek through my hair, lamenting that I didn’t have a scarf or anything to tie it up. Squinting, I see Dr. Richardson’s face through the frizzy strands. My racing heart suddenly skips a beat.
He's somehow even more handsome in sleep.
I turn my head again, pulling his hand very slowly off my breast. I slide, worm-like, off the mattress, standing up and then gasping as my pants fall down to the floor. Peeking back up quickly, I check he's still asleep before bending carefully, ignoring the cramping in my stomach.
I grumble as I pick them back up and see the bag of clothes on the chair by the door. I grab it, spotting an en-suite bathroom near the closet. Alexander suddenly groans and then rolls onto his belly, into the space I'd just vacated. The gray sheets of the bed pull with his movement, exposing more of him to my gaze.
My eyes flicker down the muscles peeking through the shirt he’d put on to sleep in. Pressing my lips tightly together, I go into the surprisingly expansive bathroom, closing the door before locking it. Pulling my hair up into a bun, I turn the shower on, feeling a slight cramp in my tummy that makes me twist my mouth in pain, making my hand fly up to press into the hurt.
Brittany…
I close my eyes against the nauseating, fresh wave of pain.
I sigh miserably, remembering the nurse said I might bleed for a few days after the miscarriage. Waiting for the water to warm up, I pull down my pants and look down into my panties. There's not a lot of blood. Not as much as I expected. I roll up thepad, wrapping it in a bunch of tissue before shoving it into the trashcan, lamenting that there's nothing in there for me to hide it under. I pull off my top and bra, turning in the mirror to take in the swell of my tummy. I hadn’t been pregnant long enough to have any real physical changes, and that swell that's there has always been present.
I put on my shower cap and and step under the water, seeing the shower stocked. My mind whirls as I go through the motions of lathering a rag. I can't believe what happened. Here I'd been doing my absolute best to advocate for my client with the most hardheaded,arrogantpsychiatrist—
I stop soaping myself up, pausing to take a good look around me.
I'm in the hardheaded arrogant psychiatrist'sbathroom.In hishome.After he wouldn’t leave me alone last night to be by myself. I bite my lip, remembering the way he held me on the floor of his office while we waited for the ambulance, and what he did to Brandon at the hospital. How tenderly he comforted me last night when I was breaking down crying. My eyes sting. I've never been treated so nicely before in my life, and…maybe there's a chance I've greatly misjudged him?
I have to send him some flowers and a thank-you card.
I'm not even sure why I believe that that would be enough of a thanks, but it's going to have to be. My bank account can only take so much, and now I have a hospital bill to worry about as well. I wince, sighing as I turn the water off and reach over to the rack, wrapping a thick towel around me and tucking the edge in at my breast.
I step out of the shower onto the low-pile gray rug, ripping the cap off my head. Walking up to the vanity, I give my hair an admonishing look, parting my hair in the mirror, truly detesting having to go through the motions of being normal. I don’t feel normal.
Nothingis normal anymore.
I plug in and turn on my hot brush. Giving myself a once over in the mirror, I spray my hair with a heat protectant, and while I wait for the brush to get hot, I moisturize my body. Then I spend ten minutes combing out the strands with the hot brush, paying careful attention to the back of my head where the curls and frizz are trying to make a vicious comeback.
Ignoring the pain and wanting to put my best foot forward with Dr. Richardson, I carefully make my hair into a silky curtain again that flows over my breasts and down almost to my belly button.
Satisfied I'm presentable, I pull out a pad and shimmy my underwear up before donning a burnt-orange strapless dress. Out of all the clothes I could have grabbed, why on Earth did I pack something that shows my back? I must have been way out of it. Had to be in order to let this man bring me to his house.
I wipe a tear away, feeling another pang of loss for Bumpy.
But I try to put my loss to the back of my mind as I put on a light coat of mascara, exiting the bathroom to find the bedroom empty, and the bed neatly made. Stepping out into the hallway, I turn my head left and right curiously. The hallway is a huge space with contemporary vases and pieces of art standing on pedestals instead of pictures on the walls. The hallway is very sterile, with plain white walls illuminated by recessed lighting. It's the type of no-life look that elites strive for because their everyday life is so busy and hectic.
I don’t care for it.
