The Nurse's Baby Secret

“Go home. It’s not going to hurt if a used washcloth sits on the countertop overnight.”

“I want to help you, Savannah. Let me.” He did want to help. He wanted her smiling and happy, not miserable and sick.

Maybe he was destined to have a negative impact on anyone close to him. To make anyone unfortunate enough to get close to him miserable.

She glanced toward the doorway leading out into the hallway, then sighed. Her remaining energy hissed out like a deflating balloon and she sat down on the edge of the bed. “I feel guilty letting you clean when I’m perfectly capable.”

He’d really like to hold her, to stroke her hair, whisper words of comfort and stay with her until she felt better. It wasn’t his place to do any of those things. Not anymore.

“If you looked perfectly capable I wouldn’t have offered. You don’t, so go to bed.”

Surprisingly, she nodded and laid down on top of the comforter.

“I’ll straighten your guest bathroom then be back to check on you.”

Asking her to get into her bed struck him as odd. How many times had he gotten into that bed with her?

Odd to think he never would again.

That he’d lost that right.

That privilege.

Once he was in Nashville, had started his new job, made new friends, his having made the right decision would be reinforced. It was only because he was still here, still confronted every day with the life he’d become used to sharing with Savannah, that he was struggling.

Savannah would be much better off once he was gone and she could move on with her life. He blamed himself for allowing their relationship to go on for so long. He should have stepped away long ago, for Savannah’s sake if not his own.

Then again, that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? He should have protected her from ever getting close enough to him to feel broken-hearted.

Not that his track record for protecting those close to him was anything to brag about. Quite the opposite.

Once he’d straightened her bathroom, he went back to her bedroom and wasn’t surprised to find her asleep.

She hadn’t planned on going to sleep as she was still lying on top of the comforter rather than beneath it. Savannah was one of those that even if it were a hundred degrees outside she had to at least have a sheet over her. The fact she had dozed off spoke volumes as to how ill she was.

He should have asked if she needed anything.

He should have checked her temperature or something.

He was a cardiologist, not an infectious disease guy, but she probably had a stomach virus. Hopefully, it would run its course within twenty-four hours and she’d feel better soon.

He went back into the living room, grabbed a throw blanket off the sofa, and put it over her. She snuggled into the comfort of the blanket, but her breathing pattern didn’t change to indicate that she’d awakened.

Charlie stood over the bed watching her for a few minutes. He’d told her she looked awful, but the truth was she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.

Fearing he might wake her but unable to resist, he ran his fingers over her forehead, brushing back a stray strand of long red hair and gauging her temperature at the same time. That was why he was touching her. To check her temperature. To see if she were physically ill. Not because he’d longed to touch the creamy perfection of her skin, to trace over the faint laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, the high angle of her cheekbones, the pert lines of her jaw.

To check her temperature.

No fever. That was good.

But she hadn’t thrown up because she felt great. Something was definitely wrong.

Which left him in a quandary. Did he go or did he stay?

Tomorrow was Saturday and he wasn’t on call this weekend. He’d planned to drive to Nashville in the morning to make a decision on living arrangements. Savannah wasn’t on duty either, as he’d checked her schedule earlier that day.

No, he hadn’t checked her schedule.

He’d just happened to glance at the nursing schedule and he’d just happened to note that she wasn’t working that weekend.

What he wanted was to crawl up into the bed beside her, to hold her close and be there in case she needed him.

But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t be soft where she was concerned. Not even if she was sick.

But he wasn’t leaving. That much he knew.

He eyed the empty side of the bed where he’d laid dozens of times. He had no rights where Savannah was concerned.

Which was something he suspected would haunt him a lot longer than he cared to admit.

He’d stay the night and be there if Savannah got sick again, would be there if she needed anything. Then he’d go back to being the world’s biggest jerk.

* * *

Savannah woke with a start, stretched her arms above her head, then realized her living room throw was tucked around her.