The Brooding Surgeon's Baby Bombshell

His mouth gaped in shock as he grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop.

“Maybe because I was too busy trying to recover from the bomb you dropped on me.”

He did have her there. She inhaled and said on the exhalation, “I think we both need some time to consider what we need to do.” His touch made her tremble, triggering memories of his hands all over her that night. How was she supposed to think?

“I already know what I want,” he snapped. “I intend to be as much a part of my child’s life as possible.”

“Does it matter what I want?” Zoe jerked free, took hold of her luggage handle again and started out of the hotel attached to the airport by a tunnel that led under the street.

Gabe matched her stride. “You didn’t think I’d want to know my child, did you?”

“I thought you deserved to know he or she existed, but I never imagined you’d want to be involved as closely as you’re talking about.” She kept increasing her pace, lugging her bag behind her. “You made it perfectly clear you weren’t family material before we went to bed together.”

“Oho, so that’s it. You didn’t think I’d care about being a father. It so happens that now that I am one I intend to be one. You have a problem with that?”

“I don’t know. I might if you keep applying this much pressure all the time,” she hissed.

“If I keep... You’ve had months to adjust to having a child. I only just learned I’m going to be a father.” His frustration was loud and clear.

Guilt assaulted her. “I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t fair, but you can’t expect me to make a life-changing decision for my child while I’m on the way to the airport.”

They continued through the tunnel into the terminal. Gabe remained beside her, larger than life. Why couldn’t he give her some space? She was already tied in emotional knots. She needed to get away, get home and regroup.

Zoe had other things to consider besides Gabe’s newly found parental outrage. Her friend had just sent a text to say that her mom was anxious, constantly searching the apartment and asking for Zoe.

Her thoughts were too scattered. She needed to consider carefully everything she said or agreed to. What happened would affect her and her child forever. “Gabe, I’m not talking about this right now. You’re moving across the country and you need time to get settled into your new job before you agree to shoulder the responsibilities of fatherhood. Responsibilities you need to carefully weigh first. Meanwhile, I need time to handle other issues in my life.”

“Is there someone else involved here?” His question was a demand. “Are you involved with someone?”

“No, nothing like that.” She glanced at Gabe in time to see him visibly relax. What did it matter to him if she had a boyfriend—or a lover, for that matter?

He touched her elbow to steady her when she rocked back as they headed up the escalators to the security area. Heat zipped through her. “You need to hold the handrail.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Pregnancy doesn’t make me feeble-minded.” She’d covered her reaction to him with feistiness she didn’t completely feel as she pulled her arm from his hand.

“Neither does it mean you shouldn’t be careful or unwilling to accept help.”

Zoe’s look met his. Gabe’s didn’t waver. He appeared sincerely concerned. She had to admit it was nice to have someone care about her welfare. So much of her life revolved around helping others, her patients and her mother. Being worried over was a pleasant change. They stepped off the escalator and continued down the concourse. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

She looked ahead. A young woman with a baby strapped to her chest was pushing a rented luggage cart piled high with bags. Standing on the front, holding on, was a boy of about four. Seconds before they passed Zoe, the cart wobbled and the boy fell backward onto the unforgiving floor with a sickening thud. The mother screamed as blood flowed.

Even as the accident registered in Zoe’s mind, Gabe was down on one knee beside the child. The boy’s screeching echoed off the high glass ceiling as the mother pushed Gabe’s shoulder in her effort to reach the boy.

He half turned, catching hold of her as he said in a level, calm manner, “Ma’am, I’m a doctor. Don’t move him. You could make it worse. What’s his name?”

“Bobby. Bobby’s his name,” the woman said between crying huffs.

“Bobby, hush. I’m Dr. Gabe. I’m going to help you.” Gabe continued to speak softly and reassuringly to the boy.

Zoe noticed a diaper bag sitting on top of the woman’s luggage pile. Grabbing it, she opened it and searched until she found a diaper. Laying it as flat as possible on the floor, she carefully slipped it beneath the boy’s head, then held his head steady to stop him from squirming.

Gabe nodded to her then said, “Bobby, I need to see if you’re hurt anywhere else. Your mom’s right here. She can hold your hand, but you must be still.”

The boy’s crying quieted, although tears continued to roll down his face.

A crowd circled them yet Gabe’s full attention remained focused on the child.

The mother moved to the opposite side of the boy, going down on her knees beside Zoe. Taking his small hand, she said, “I’m here, honey.” The baby on her chest started to cry and she patted her on the bottom. “Don’t cry, Bobby. You’re making me and Susie cry too.”

The boy gave her a sad smile. His chest shuddered as he struggled to stop sobbing. The mother’s eyes were wild with fear as she stared expectantly at Gabe.

“Bobby, do you have a dog?” he asked, reaching for and pulling his suitcase to him.

“Uh-huh.” The boy grew quiet and watched Gabe.

Nimbly, Gabe unzipped a side pocket and removed a stethoscope. “What’s his name?”

“Marty.”

“Marty—that’s a good name for a dog. Did you give it to him?”

Zoe shifted closer to the mother. Placing her fingers on the pulse of the boy’s wrist, Zoe checked his heart rate.

“One-ten,” she told Gabe. Thankfully it wasn’t very high.

Zoe looked up to see a security guard hurrying in their direction. When he arrived she said, “I’m a nurse and he’s a doctor.” She nodded in the direction of Gabe. “Call 911. This boy needs to be seen at a hospital.”

Thankfully the man didn’t waste time arguing and spoke into his radio.

Meanwhile Bobby was saying, “No, my mom did. I wanted to name him Purple.”

Gabe grinned. “Purple. That’s an interesting name. Is he a purple dog?” While he spoke to the boy in a low tone, Gabe listened to his heart, checking his pulse and looking into his eyes.

“There’s no such thing as a purple dog,” the boy stated. “It’s my favorite color.”

Gabe chuckled and patted Bobby on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll be playing with Marty soon.” He spoke to the mother. “I think he’ll be fine, but he may have a concussion and need to stay in the hospital overnight for observation.”

Blinking, she swiped away the wetness on one cheek.

“I’ll see that you’re taken care of. Don’t worry,” Gabe assured her.

Seconds later the emergency medical techs arrived. They relieved Zoe and she stood. Her hands were a mess and one of the techs handed her a wet towel to clean them.

Gabe had been tender with Bobby, even able to distract him, which was a talent in itself. He showed promise at being a good father. Caring concern was every bit as evident in his interaction with the boy and mother as it had been during the night they had shared. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to accept him as part of her and the baby’s life. If he was truly serious about it. Her fear was that when reality set in he might change his mind. Right now, he was just being noble.

Gabe was busy giving the EMTs a report about what had happened when Zoe found her bag and headed to the nearest restroom to wash her hands. When she came out, Gabe stood nearby.

She checked her watch and shook her head. “I have to go. It’s almost time for my plane. I have to get home.”