A little on the wild sid.., p.28
A Little on the Wild Side, page 28
part #3 of Wild Thing Series
“Do you want to do this now, in front of Bianca?”
“No, that’s the only reason you’re still in one piece, Brother.”
He set Trapper back on his feet and shook his head. “I hear it’s hard to grovel with a broken jaw. You’ve got a hell of a lot of explaining to do. You might want to invest in knee pads.”
“Yeah, thanks for the helpful advice.”
“Call me. I’ll be waiting. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll be back with reinforcements—I’ll bring Mom.”
Trapper had a feeling the only reason Bianca was still in the house was because she couldn’t get off the chaise by herself.
He took a deep breath and went in. He had no idea what he was going to say or do to make this right, but he wouldn’t stop trying until he succeeded. He couldn’t lose Bianca.
She didn’t look at him; she was busy twisting her fingers in the fringe of the throw lying on the chaise. She wasn’t crying. She was dry-eyed and enraged. She looked stoic, but ready to explode.
He never thought he’d see the day he’d miss Bianca’s tears, but he did now. She looked like a statue—lifeless and vacant and hard.
He’d lost her.
She didn’t need to say it; he saw it.
He could barely breathe.
He was suffocating. It was as if his chest was so full of regret there was no room for air. “It looks as if I owe you an explanation.”
“You owe me nothing. I was just trying to pack my things, and I didn’t know that your personal items were in there. I wasn’t trying to snoop into your life.”
“Snoop into my life? You are my life.”
She finally looked at him then, and he couldn’t have gotten a bigger chill if he was standing in the Arctic Circle naked. “I’m sorry. I know I should have told you about Paige, but it was a long time ago.”
“Like I said, you owe me nothing. As a matter of fact, why don’t we just drop it? I really don’t want to talk about anything with you. I have a massive headache, and I just want to go to bed.”
“Too bad, sweetheart. We’re never going to get past this unless we discuss it.”
“I don’t feel a great need to get past anything.”
“You’re not even going to hear me out?”
“Not if I’m given a choice, no.”
“I’m just asking you to listen.”
She looked away. Her whole body was rigid, her face pale.
“Paige and I met at a legal function in New York.” He didn’t think telling Bianca he’d had Paige out of the dinner and into his bed in less than three hours would help his case any. “We started dating.” Yeah, they’d never really dated. They’d started sleeping together, although there wasn’t much sleep involved. Before he knew it, she’d moved in. And now, he felt like a liar. He hated lying. He didn’t do it.
“People usually date before they get engaged.”
“We lived together for a few years, and Paige wanted to get married.”
“You didn’t?”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought it was next, you know?”
“Next?”
“We’d been together for three years. It made sense. We both respected each other’s careers and long hours. I wanted to wait to get engaged until we came here for Christmas that year, but Paige was impatient. I knew the family would be upset, so I didn’t mention it, thinking we’d announce our engagement when we got home.”
“Your family hadn’t met her?”
“Paige wasn’t much into family get-togethers. When I came home, she went off with her friends or stayed in town and worked. Hunter came to New York once unexpectedly. He met Paige then, but we’d just started…”
“Dating?”
“Not really. We were having sex, and she kind of stayed. I don’t think I ever really asked her out. She was putting in her hundred and twenty billable hours a week hoping for a quick partnership, and I was an assistant DA fighting the good fight. Our relationship was convenient.”
“Until she got pregnant.”
“Paige was working on a big case—the case of a lifetime—she was second chair to a senior partner. I came home one night and found a positive pregnancy test. We’d both been working so much, we hadn’t been together like that in a while, and I always used condoms because she couldn’t take the pill.”
“Can you move it along, Trapper? I’m really not interested in hearing about your sex life.”
“Fine. I thought…well, you can imagine what I thought. So I went to her office to surprise her, to celebrate, and I caught her and the senior partner together with their legal briefs down, doing the nasty on the boardroom table.”
Bianca hadn’t moved other than to twist her fingers in the throw.
“I moved out the next day. I never asked for the ring back—I didn’t want the damn thing. I didn’t know she was still wearing it until I saw her at the same function where we’d met four years before. I was blindsided when that picture was taken. She’d never told anyone we’d stopped seeing each other. It turned out the senior partner was married and didn’t want to claim her or the child until he could get an uncontested divorce. If his wife had known, he would have lost his shirt.”
“And the baby?”
He pulled out the paternity test and handed it to her. “Not mine. I never thought it was—the timing wasn’t right—but I had to wait until she had the baby and a paternity test to make sure.”
“Of course. You always do the right thing. The honorable thing. I’m sure if the child had been yours, you would have done the right thing and married her too.”
“I would have made sure she and the baby were taken care of. I would never have married Paige.”
“I know you, Trapper. You would have married her, and you would have raised your child.” She neatly folded the paternity test and set it back in the box.
“That’s it?”
“I don’t know, Trapper? Is there more?”
“Bianca, sweetheart, don’t you see that Paige has nothing to do with us?”
“How can you say that with a straight face? I know I’m not one to talk—Lord knows, I have more issues than Vogue, but now everything—you, me, the babies—makes perfect sense.”
“What do you mean? Paige is ancient history. I love you, Bianca. I fell in love with you the second I saw you.”
“Trapper, you fell into our relationship the same way you fell into your relationship with Paige.”
“I never loved Paige. The way I feel for you is a billion times what I felt for Paige Baker.”
“The only difference as I see it is that these children are yours, although I don’t blame you if you want a paternity test.”
“Bianca, this has nothing to do with the babies, and everything to do with you and me. I love you, and I know you love me.”
“I do love you.”
He was ready to jump for joy when he saw the first tear fall. A big fat one, followed by another that she swiped away with an angry, swollen hand. “Thank God.” He tried to wrap his arms around her, needing to touch her, but she pushed him away.
“My loving you doesn’t matter. I told you everything—I told you about Max and my parents. I loved you enough to tell you the truth so you could make an informed decision. I didn’t want you to be blindsided by finding old news reports or a secret stash of incriminating photos. I burned them years ago.” She stopped and fought for breath, her tears streaming down her face, clogging her throat. “But you kept yours, Trapper. You kept the pictures. You kept the ring you gave her. You kept everything, and you never told me.” She took a stuttering breath. “You let me find out on my own. God, you let me find out in front of your brother not hours after you accused me of cheating on you. I might be in love with you, Trapper, but I don’t believe for a second that what you feel for me has anything to do with love. If you truly loved me, you never would have done this to me.”
“I do love you. I made a mistake. I’m not perfect. I was afraid if you found out, you’d think just what you’re thinking.”
“Thinking that you loved her enough to ask her to marry you? Thinking that I’m stupid for ever buying into your illusions? You don’t love me, Trapper. You never did. You love our children, and I’m just the vessel they’re growing in. You’ve spent the last three months taking care of me for their sake. So, yeah, I think I’m a damn fool. Again.”
Bianca gritted her teeth and rubbed her belly—not the way she usually did. This was different, and the way her face looked—she looked as if she were in pain.
Then she groaned.
He knew how Bianca sounded when one of the babies pounced on her kidney or got a foot stuck in her ribs. He’d never heard her sound like this. Every muscle in his entire body froze, and his stomach flipped and tangled with his throat. “Bianca? What’s the matter?”
She wiped her face, anger replacing the tears. “My back hurts—it’s been bothering me all day. I’m swollen, and fat, and I have a headache like you read about. It’s not often I’ve been accused of cheating and found out the ugly truth about the man I love on the same day. I just want to go to bed.”
He took a look at her, a close look. God, her ankles had disappeared, and her hands were really swollen. “How long has your back been bothering you?” He wrapped his arms around her and practically picked her up.
“Since this afternoon.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I wasn’t speaking to you, remember?”
“We’re going to the hospital.”
“No, we’re not. I’m going to bed, and you can go to hell.”
“I’m already there, sweetheart.”
She grabbed her stomach, doubled over, and roared—it wasn’t a little cry; it was a roar.
Oh fuck. The babies. “Breathe, Bianca. I think you’re in labor. Breathe, come on, just like in childbirth class.”
“It hurts.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
“No, you don’t, you ass.”
He pulled out his phone and called the doctor.
***
Bianca panted like an overheated dog. It felt as if someone had tied her stomach muscles into a knot, lashed it onto the end of a pickup truck, and hit the gas.
“It’s Trapper Kincaid. Bianca Ferrari is in labor. She’s had back pain since this afternoon. Thirty-three weeks, twins. Yes. Her blood sugar was 162 an hour ago, and she’s swelling.”
God, it was too early. This wasn’t supposed to happen until after April 18. She’d had Braxton Hicks contractions before, this wasn’t Braxton Hicks, this one was the real thing.
“Why do you need to talk to Bianca? She’s in labor!”
She hit him. “Just give me the damn phone and stop arguing.” She took it from him. “Hello? Yes, Bianca Ferrari. I’ll be thirty-five next month, on the twenty-fifth. Dull back pain. It comes and goes. How often? I don’t know. It comes and goes. We’re about five minutes from the hospital. Yes, thank you.”
Trapper had his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets and was sweating. She didn’t ever remember seeing him sweat. “What did the nurse say?”
“Dr. Weaver is going to meet us at the hospital.”
Before she knew it, Trapper had her off her feet and in his arms.
She wanted to kill him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Taking you to the hospital.”
“Put me down. I can walk. You’re going to kill us both.”
“No.”
“Trapper, I have to pee. I’ve been sitting here listening to you go on and on forever. Now, put me down.”
“Fine.” He walked into the bathroom, set her on her feet, and waited.
“Leave.”
“What if you have another contraction?”
“I’m sure I will—eventually. There’s not a whole lot you can do about it. Now get out so I can use the bathroom before I explode.”
“I’ll be right outside the door.”
She watched him leave and did her best to keep from completely freaking out. “Why don’t you go downstairs and get my purse and my phone? I’ll meet you down there.”
“No.”
“You sound like a two-year-old.”
It took her a minute, but she pulled herself together. Hysterics weren’t going to help the babies. She washed her hands, splashed some cold water on her face, and pushed the pain away. Not the physical pain. No, there was nothing she could do about that. She pushed the heartache away—if she didn’t, she was sure it would crush her. She stuffed all the pain, the disappointment, and the fear, locked the steel door on that vault, and promised to deal with it later.
When she opened the door, Trapper was right there as promised, but now he was back on the phone.
She waddled past him and started down the stairs. There was no way she’d let him pick her up again. After today, she wished she could just erase the last three months from her memory. She didn’t know who Trapper was talking to, nor did she care. All she cared about right now was getting to the hospital and taking care of the babies. God, she couldn’t lose the babies too. She’d rather die.
***
For the second time in his life, Trapper found himself in a hospital waiting room without his hat and holding Bianca’s purse. He’d filled out all the paperwork and cleaned out her purse again by the time his family rushed in.
Fisher walked right past the waiting room and threw the doors open into the maternity ward.
Trapper’s mom came right up to him and engulfed him in a hug that was enough to bring tears to his eyes. God, he was a fuckin’ mess.
“What did the doctors say?”
“Not a damn thing. They took Bianca in and told me to wait. That was a half hour ago.”
“Fisher will find out what’s going on.”
“Mom, Bianca’s in labor. I think she was having back labor all afternoon and didn’t tell me. I knew I shouldn’t have left her. God, if anything happens to her—”
“Stop it, Trapper. Nothing’s going to happen to Bianca or those babies. And whatever problems you two might have will be worked out eventually. You have two babies depending on you now.”
He only wished he was as sure of that as his mother seemed to be.
Jessie was sitting holding Gramps’s hand and biting her bottom lip. Hunter sat on the other side of the room with his arm around Toni, shooting his death glare at Trapper.
Trapper couldn’t even blame the guy. This nightmare was entirely his own fault.
Fisher walked in wearing his doctor’s face—the serious, things-don’t-look-good face.
Trapper was suddenly glad he hadn’t eaten.
“Trapper, come on back. Dr. Weaver is almost through with Bianca. We need to talk to you. There are decisions to be made.”
“Is Bianca okay?”
Fisher took his arm. “Come on. Weaver’s waiting.”
***
Bianca lay in the hospital sweating. The nurses said it was normal, but it wasn’t normal for her. None of this was. She was trussed up like a Christmas goose—a fetal monitor went around her belly, a heart monitor was taped to her chest, a permanent blood pressure cuff strangled her arm every few minutes, and an IV beside her dripped a cocktail of medication into her veins.
At least the ringing in her ears was subsiding, and her vision was clearer. That had to be good, right?
Dr. Weaver didn’t say much. He just typed things into the computer in her room and didn’t look particularly pleased. She wasn’t sure if he was upset about her, or about having his evening disturbed.
“I see Trapper is your designated health care agent.” He looked over the top of his glasses, his eyebrows raised in question.
“Yes. But that’s only in emergency. Where is Trapper?”
“We asked him to wait outside until we assessed your condition. He’s probably breaking down the doors by now. I sent Dr. Kincaid to talk with him and bring him back.”
“Fisher’s here?”
He looked over his glasses again, as if he were trying to measure her mental acuity. “The whole family is here, even Big Joe Walsh. The nurses said they’re quite a crowd. They’ve commandeered the waiting room.” He moved, patted her shoulder, and watched the monitors for a moment, but didn’t look as though he was seeing them. He looked miles away, as if wrestling with a decision. “I’ll bring Trapper back to see you in a few minutes. You just rest, and let the medicine do its work. You need to stay calm and lie on your left side for as long as you can stand it.”
“The babies are okay?”
“We’ve stopped the labor and are treating them with steroids to help increase their lung function. You need to stay calm and still for another forty-eight hours.”
“Why not until April 18? I thought that was the target date.”
He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I think these babies are eager to make an appearance. We’ll be lucky if we get a forty-eight-hour reprieve. Rest and relax now, while you can. I’ll send Trapper to see you in a few minutes. Call the nurse if you need anything.” He handed her the call button. “I’ll be here tonight to keep an eye on you.”
“You will? Why?” The labor had stopped. “What else is going on?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. Right now, everything looks as if it’s under control. Rest, close your eyes, and try to get some sleep.”
Nothing for her to worry about? But there was definitely something to worry about. She was a master of body language—that’s one of the things that made her a good model. She knew how to stand and move to communicate whatever mood she was told to instill. Dr. Weaver could use a lesson. Whatever he was selling, she wasn’t buying.
***
Trapper stared at Fisher wearing his serious doctor expression. He’d never been on the receiving end of a look like that before, and he didn’t like it. His heart beat against his ribs like a jackhammer. “I need to see Bianca.”
Fisher dragged him through the swinging double doors into the maternity ward. “You will, but first Dr. Weaver wants a word.” A very pregnant woman wearing a robe and slippers walked past them like she was doing laps around the ward.
Dr. Weaver stepped out of a room and away from the door. His gaze collided with Trapper’s, and his face settled in the exact same expression that Fisher wore. If Trapper had any question as to the seriousness of the situation, he didn’t now. This wasn’t good. He reached for his hat, but it wasn’t there, so he settled for raking his hand through his hair and waited for the bad news. “What’s going on?”
