Having Nathan's Baby by Fran Louise Read Free Book Online Page B

incapable of objectivity; suddenly there was a being inside of me that was more important to him than I was. The notion struck me as warped on every level.
    His hand continued to stroke my neck. Before long, his other arm slid around my waist, bridging the gap between our lower bodies. I held on to him as though I were drowning. His scent filled my lungs and I breathed it in hungrily. I so badly wanted to lift my head, to feel his warm mouth on mine, obliterating the pain. I wanted to feel his body come alive under my touch. He might not need me emotionally, but he wanted me physically. I knew I could control that aspect of him better than anyone else in the world. That was why we were in this mess in the first place.
    The thought was like a bucket of cold water over my senses.
    Wiping my eyes, I pulled out of his embrace and met his gaze evenly. “I just want to forget about this for a while,” I said. My breath exhaled in a shaky stream. “Let’s go into the village.”
    “Are you sure? Just say the word and we’ll go back to the house.”
    “Do I look horrendous?”
    He laughed. “No. You look beautiful.”
    My laugh was subdued. “You really do wear rose-colored glasses,” I said. His thumb grazed under my eyes gently, wiping away the moisture. “Anyway, there’s only beer in the fridge back at the house,” I grumbled, recoiling inside from his affection suddenly. I twisted away. “I’m starving. Let’s go.”
    He took a deep breath. He seemed reluctant to move away from me, but he did. We got back into the car and the subject was dropped, for the moment. I felt subdued as we wandered the village’s quiet streets on foot some fifteen minutes later. I held his hand because it would have seemed churlish not to. Inside I was quaking. If he really wanted this child, could I refuse him? Was it in me to abort a healthy, wanted baby?
    “You look kind of green again.”
    I paused, giving him a blank look. “I’m hungry.”
    “Good, because we’re here,” he said.
    I looked past his compelling face, which was studying me so painstakingly. Behind him there was a small cafe with heated outdoor seating. My metabolism kicked to life like a waking lion when I saw the muffins and fruit being laid out on a customer’s table.
    We ate a large breakfast of pancakes and local maple syrup that made my flagging spirits soar. By the end of the meal the good humor was temporarily restored. I sipped the last of my tea, marveling at his ability to brush things off. I was helpless to do otherwise when I was with him, too. He was his usual tactile self, seemingly unable to stop himself from brushing a hand through my hair occasionally, or encircling my shoulders with his easy embrace. I knew he was like that with everyone, but it stirred me. I didn’t touch a lot of people on a daily basis, nor expect to be touched. My family was not demonstrative with their affection. It made me uncomfortable normally; it had struck me as odd from the second of our first meeting that Nathan hadn’t sensed that in me; it still struck me as odd that I didn’t feel that discomfort around him, even if we hadn’t seen each other for a long while.
    It wasn’t until the waitress came back to collect the dishes that I started to sense the familiar rollercoaster feeling in my stomach. The sight of the syrup slopping against the plates evoked a churning sensation. Within five minutes I’d lost most of my breakfast. Nathan was concerned, but mostly alarmed when I arrived back at the table, my face ashen.
    “How are you supposed to feed a baby if you keep throwing up?” he asked.
    I shook my head, taking a deep breath. “Ask Mother Nature,” I said.
    “Morning sickness?” The waitress was back, this time wearing a sympathetic expression. Clearly deciding she had her opening, she didn’t wait for a response. “I had the worst morning sickness with my first,” she said. “I swear I couldn’t keep a single thing down. They made me stay in