Chapter 38
Zaila
“I hate Gunnar Evaldson.” I moaned into the toilet bowl, tears streaming down my cheeks. With a weak hand, I flushed the sick before flopping onto my back on the too-small bathmat. Despite the heat, the tiles were cold, and my skin was clammy.
Shivering, I stared up at the ceiling in my parents’ house. Tomorrow was Monday, and I’d need to find another job.
I also needed to stop drinking wine, because hangovers were the pits.
I’d half expected him to show up last night, but he didn’t. That’s when I knew our relationship was over. Tears sprang to my eyes all over again, and I let them slide along my damp temples. One more minute of wallow before I push myself up and get on with the day.
The only good thing was that my parents weren’t here to see this mess.
Once I finally picked myself up off the floor, I turned on the water in the shower. After a few minutes, the warm spray revived me, and I dressed in a flowing skirt with an elastic waistline, as I could handle nothing restrictive around my sensitive midsection. My stomach was really out of whack.
By the time I walked into the kitchen, my queasiness had returned, along with some abdominal discomfort. I frowned, and with a sigh, I headed toward the stove. But then I stopped.
Gunnar stood at the enormous windows that looked out over the backyard, hands shoved in his pockets. He was backlit, so I couldn’t see his eyes, but his head tipped like it always did when he had a problem to solve.
That problem was me. Except I didn’t want to be a problem.
“Zaila.”
I cleared my throat. “Why are you here?”
“Because I wanted to see you,” he said.
I clenched my hands into fists. “Well, I’ve been seen.” I swallowed, but my mouth was parched.
He stepped forward, his gaze narrowed. Part of me felt as if he could actually see what was happening in my body.
“Zaila.”
My gaze shot up to his. I watched his pupils dilate. He liked that I listened to him. Lightheadedness caused me to sway.
“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.
“What…” My brain and mouth were no longer connected. I couldn’t get another word to form in my muddled, fascinated state. The ring was so pretty. Gorgeous. My breathing escalated.
“It’s musgravite. The moment I saw the stones, I thought of you.”
“What’s it doing on my finger?” I asked. Yay! A complete thought and an important question.
He cleared his throat, his thumb rubbing my knuckles before returning to caress the ring, then back to my knuckles. “I put it there.”
Duh. I sure as heck hadn’t. “Why?”
“So the doctor would tell me—”
“You wanted access to my medical chart.” Anger and revulsion pushed up. “Of all the manipulative—”
“I’ve been waiting for it to be ready for the last month. I picked it up this morning, and I wanted to ask you to marry me when I came over today. I wanted you to know how much you mean to me. How much I love you.”
Gunnar’s soft words caused my jaw to snap shut. I stared at him, my gaze darting right, left, trying to read something in his expression, his eyes.
“What…what…” Dammit! He’d reduced me to an incoherent pile of mush again.
For the second time, Gunnar looked unsure. I’d never seen him as anything other than completely in charge, composed, all-knowing.
“I wanted to give it to you after that night we danced in the rain, but it wasn’t ready. And I worried you weren’t ready either. But that was more about my failings and my fear than about you, Zaila.”
I blinked at him. Apparently, he’d rendered me mute—the sweet, gorgeous, romantic asshat.
“I knew then, as rain danced over your luscious skin, that you were the only woman for me,” he said with a quiet assurance I adored.
“I knew I wanted to spend every waking minute with you. Every laugh, every breath, every day. You were, are, and will always be my love, Zaila. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear, spell out what you meant to me sooner.
And I’m sorry I haven’t done a better job of letting the whole world know. ”
Some machine beeped faster, almost like a squirrel’s chitter. I shook my head. “But you’ve implied for weeks that I was too young, too na?ve, that I’d messed up your carefully laid plans—”
Gunnar’s gaze was steady but dark, and he seemed to gnaw on his cheek. “I hesitated because I’m used to control, to compartmentalizing, to not caring so much. But none of those things is possible with you. And none of them is what I want.”
The beeping slowed a bit as I processed his words.
“Now, how are you feeling?” he asked.
The diagnosis terrified me, not going to lie, even to myself. “Um…okay, I think.” I looked up at him, managing a smile. “But Gunnar, I deserve more than a pity engagement.”
His lips quirked up. “What if it’s you taking pity on me?”
I rolled my eyes. “As if. You’re Gunnar Evaldson. Billionaire. Corporate genius. The most eligible bachelor in the world.”
“I hate that insipid title,” he grouched. “Look, I want you, Zaila. I always have—from the moment you doused me in Coke. Or I suppose I could say baptized me in cola.” His eyes twinkled, and I giggled.
Damn him, he still made me laugh at the dumbest things.
“I gave you that ring because I wanted to, Zaila. I need you in my life. Take some time to think about that. Take all the time you need. I’ll make sure you get –are being given—the very best treatment.
Hell, the moment even a whiff of a word gets out, I bet Vivian Cruz will be at my door with her stethoscope, proclaiming herself your personal nurse. And that’s because I adore you, Zaila.”
Warmth flooded me as I thought about my friend…and how I’d dropped a bomb at her wedding. I winced as I considered Vivian’s potential reaction. I hadn’t thought about it at the time, too hurt by Gunnar’s dismissal of me.
“My guess is that Vivian can’t stand me,” I murmured.
“That’s where you’re wrong. She and Keelie have been hounding me every hour since you walked away. ‘Get off your fat ego and get Zaila before someone with an actual brain in their head beats you to her’, Vivian told me.”
I blinked. “She didn’t.”
Gunnar chuckled. “She did.”
I shook my head. “Wish I’d seen that.”
“In fairness, she was pretty worked up, and she apologized later. Profusely, while begging me not to take her outburst out on Lennon.”
“You won’t.”
He nodded. “I didn’t. I won’t. Those CATS gave me the kick in the pants I needed to see things clearly.
They are terrifyingly efficient and empathetic.
” He clasped my hand, and I luxuriated in the warmth of his palms. “I don’t want to pressure you, but I do hope you’ll consider being my wife.
Actually, I’d much prefer you become my wife.
And I’d be happy to issue a press release and shout it to the rafters.
I want you with me everywhere. Be my partner. You made me a better person.”
“I…” My brain couldn’t withstand this level of emotion.
He was destroying me in the most romantic of ways, and I loved him all the more for it.
“I just don’t understand. What changed? Why this now when you’ve been so careful and cautious for pretty much our entire relationship?
” I thought for a moment. “Except in Sweden. Something was different there.”