RaeAnne Thayne - Wilder Hearts - Once Upon a Pregnancy

What did one say to a woman who’d just learned of her mother’s frightening discovery?

“That’s just like my mom,” Simone said, tears spilling from her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

She wiped the moisture from her cheeks and sniffed. “Needless to say, I’m concerned about her health and sorry she’s struggling with all that lump could mean, but this is the kind of thing a mother should share with her daughter, whether she’s a nurse or not. And it hurts to be reminded of just how lousy our relationship is. Especially if her condition proves to be life-threatening and I stand to lose her without ever having the kind of bond other mothers and daughters have.”

Mike didn’t know what to say, what to do. He couldn’t get a handle on how a woman might feel upon finding a lump in her breast. Nor did he have any idea what that woman’s daughter might be going through.

He figured they’d both be scared, anxious.

A simple, well-meant “I’m sorry” slid out. Yet it seemed so…inadequate.

“I’m sorry, too. And not just because of the news. I’m used to having my mom shut me out. She’s been doing that to me for years. But I got the feeling that her friend thought I was too busy to be bothered. And that’s simply not true.”

“I know it isn’t.” If anyone had a heart for a person who was ill or hurting, it was Simone. And Mike was sorry that she and her mom were not close.

Maybe, in its own way, a diagnosis like this might draw the two of them together again. He hoped so; he couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without the love and support of his family.

A shank of glossy hair had fallen from the clip Simone wore; now the strands hung along her cheek. Mike brushed them aside. “If you need anything, if your mom needs anything, you can count on me for help.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s what friends…and lovers are for.” As he brushed a kiss across her forehead, she gripped his waist as though hanging on to him, to everything his offer held.

When her lips parted, tempting him to place his mouth on hers, he was lost in a whirl of desire. He half expected her to push him away, but she slipped her arms around his neck and drew him closer instead.

It had been so long…

Too long.

The kiss deepened, and their tongues mated, sweeping and swirling in sleek, hot need. He couldn’t get enough of her taste, of her touch, of her scent. And he held her tight, yearning to make them one.

Still, he wouldn’t push. Wouldn’t make the first move toward the bedroom. He’d been serious when he’d vowed that the next time they made love it would be at Simone’s invitation, and she wouldn’t need even a drop of alcohol to influence her decision.

As his hormones pumped, as his blood pounded in need, he reined in his desire to the point he thought he might die. And when she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away, he thought he surely would.

“I’m sorry, Mike. But I can’t. I just can’t do this.”

Oh, she could . And she had . But he knew better than to argue.

She unclipped the barrette in her hair, then combed her fingers through the strands. “I’m not the kind of woman who wants or needs a man in my life.”

“You may not want one. But you definitely need one.” And Mike was the man she needed most.

His suspicion that she’d been hurt in the past only deepened now.

She strode back to the coffee table and picked at a clump of grapes he’d placed next to the slices of cheese. “In the three or so years you’ve known me, how many times have you seen me with a man—romantically speaking? How many times have I actually gone out on a date?”

“That’s not healthy,” he said.

“I’m not very good at relationships, so it’s easier this way.”

He couldn’t buy that. Still, it had been five or six weeks since the two of them had slept together. But he had no idea how long it had been for her prior to that.

Too long, he suspected. The last guy she’d been involved with must have done a real number on her self-esteem.

“Can’t you be content to let us just be friends?”

God only knew how long he could keep this up. His hope was that she’d give in to her true feelings before he grew tired of waiting.

Damn. He was only human.

“I’ll take whatever you can give me,” he said.

At least that was his plan for now.

The next morning, Simone woke to the sounds of dogs barking. She rolled over in bed, raised up on an elbow and peered through the curtains. In the backyard, Mike was playing ball with Wags and Woofer, who obviously hadn’t learned the rules of Fetch.

But she had to give Mike credit for trying to teach them how to bring the little rubber ball back to him and not keep it as a well-earned prize.

What was she going to do about that man?

If she believed in the power of true love, if she believed that she could become involved in any kind of lasting relationship, she would definitely consider making Mike a part of her life.

But she knew her own flaws, as well as her strengths.

When Cynthia Pryor, her mom’s neighbor, had called last night to inform Simone of something another mother would have disclosed on her own, she’d been completely taken aback. Not just by the terrible news, but by the blatant reminder that she and her mom had never been close, that they never would be.

And thanks to their dysfunctional relationship, Simone would never be able to create a warm, loving family of her own.

After the call, when Mike had held her, when he’d kissed her, she’d wanted so badly to accept all that he’d been willing to give her.

But how could she when she knew she’d always hold back? When she knew she’d always retreat to that special place in her mind where no one could ever hurt her again?

As she climbed from bed, another bout of morning sickness struck with a vengeance, and she hurried to the bathroom. When it was all over—God, she hated being sick—she washed her face, returned to the bedroom and sat on the edge of mattress. Then she dialed her mother’s house.

After the third ring, a click sounded. Simone opened her mouth to respond, but when the canned voice of her mom’s answering machine began its recitation, she blew out a ragged sigh instead.

“You have reached 518–555–2467. I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll return your call at my earliest convenience.”

Simone cleared her throat. “Hi, Mom. It’s me. I just wanted to touch base and see how you’ve been. Please give me a call when you can. It’s—” she glanced at the clock on the bureau “—it’s ten-fifteen on Thursday. I have to go into work this afternoon around three, but I should be close to home until then. I love you.”

As she hung up the phone, she realized that she always ended her calls that way. I love you .

But did she?

Did that little girl inside of her still exist? The one who’d desperately wanted to hear those three little words repeated and know, without a doubt, that her mother truly meant them?

No. That lonely child had faded into the past when Simone hit high school, where she learned that she could get the affirmation, respect and attention she craved from her teachers. So, as a result, she studied hard and excelled—especially in science.

At one time, she’d actually thought about going to medical school, but the cost was prohibitive, especially without any family support. So she’d settled for nursing school, where she graduated at the top of her class.

Fifteen years ago, she landed a job at Walnut River General and worked on any floor she was assigned. But she soon found her real calling in the emergency room, where she gained the respect of patients, coworkers and administrators alike.