Break The Rules Page 9

  She blinked frantically to clear her vision. "Easy for you to say."

  Danni reached across the table to take her hand and squeeze.

  "It was an accident, babe."

  "Yeah, that's what the coroner said at the time. I didn't believe him then and I don't believe him now. I was there."

  "You need to talk to an expert to help you heal."

  "Will it bring him back?"

  "No. Of course it won't. But—"

  T.C. had heard the arguments, the logic, the so-called truth, but she refused to open up the seeping septic wound deep in her heart and let in the light.

  "So, what's the point? I deserve everything I don't get in life."

  Danni shook her head. "Oh, T.C. What are we going to do with you?"

  T.C. sipped her water.

  "Hell if I know."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  At least the bombshell had opened her door and let him in.

  Then again, she was the one who'd requested his presence this evening.

  Sean reckoned he could call it progress.

  Tonight, her feet bare, she wore her regulation yoga pants plus over-size T-shirt.

  The scent of her shampoo took him straight back to the night in her bed.

  Her hair was piled high on her head in a messy ponytail.

  Her skin was bare of cosmetics and she looked gorgeous.

  The hectic flush on those high cheekbones and the feral glitter in those baby blue eyes made her look like an edgy fallen angel. But he knew T.C. was no angel—with those hot curves and a mouth made for...

  He stopped his errant thoughts in their tracks.

  However, something about the way she wouldn't meet his eye and the way she didn't know what to do with her hands dinged his intuition.

  She looked ill at ease.

  He wondered why.

  "Don't look at me like that," she snapped.

  Sean felt he was having a déjà vu moment. A repeat of the conversation they'd had just before she'd hit him.

  "I'm not up to scratching your itch tonight," he said, just to make his point crystal. "What do you want?"

  She stiffened.

  "I know you think you're God's gift to women in bed, but I didn't ask you here for another night of forgettable sex."

  Her adversarial tone was a surprise, as were her words.

  Forgettable sex?

  Hell, they'd reached Nirvana and beyond.

  Again she was trying, and succeeding, to wind him up.

  Bad, bad girl.

  He shoved his hands into his jean pockets in case they found themselves doing something they'd regret, like strangling her.

  But a righteous fury burned in his heart.

  Who the hell did she think she was talking to him in that tone?

  She'd had the sheer gall to invite him here and then turn on him with another bad attitude?

  Whatever the hell her issue was, he wanted nothing to do with it.

  He'd let her say what she had to say before he gave her a few home truths and booted her out of his life.

  For good.

  T.C. took her time to survey the way he stood there as if he was her lord and master. She had to admit the man looked fabulous in his soft blue jeans and black long sleeved thermal, which showcased his amazing body.

  Her heart beat crazily in her chest as beads of perspiration trickled between her breasts

  She wondered if pregnancy hormones gave women hot flashes.

  Probably.

  God knew pregnancy gave women everything else from twenty-four-hour morning sickness, to bursting into tears if a cute cat pic appeared on Instagram and everything else in between.

  Sean's chest-beating gorilla act wasn't exactly a surprise, but she had his number alright.

  The taciturn, he-man, do-as-you-are-told-woman act did nothing for her.

  Why she'd given into a weak moment and actually felt sorry for him when he'd been vulnerable, she'd no idea.

  Call it temporary insanity.

  Call it stupid.

  Whatever.

  A little voice told her she had feelings for him.

  She told the voice to shut up.

  She'd asked him here to do the right thing, to make Ana proud, and to get him the hell out of her space, asap.

  So why was she remembering his awesome penis?

  "Seems we have an issue," she tossed the letter from her general practitioner, along with a black and white scan picture of a bunch of human cells, on the table. "You're gonna be a daddy."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Sean's shocked and appalled expression said it all.

  T.C. would have laughed in his face if it wasn't for the fact her head ached like a bad tooth and she felt like throwing up. Plus, her heart was beating so fast she put her fist to the spot.

  Well, the news had certainly wiped the snooty, superior expression from his handsome face.

  "I do not believe this," he whispered.

  "'Fraid so. Don't worry. I want nothing from you. After what happened to Ana when she was little, she made it clear you had the right to know. So—now you know."

  She pointed to the three-D scan picture he seemed riveted by.

  Shame her hand trembled.

  His scent, clean and male, mixed with one-hundred-per-cent pure testosterone, was much too potent.

  She took a step back.

  Too late.

  She'd already inhaled the very essence of him along with that just showered scent that she loved so much.

  He didn't speak, didn't even look at her.

  Okay.

  The guy was obviously in shock and who could blame him?

  She moved to grab the letter, the picture, and found a strong hand clamped on her narrow wrist.

  "Don't. How do I know it's mine?"

  Fair question.

  However, T.C. couldn't help the sting of hurt or blame him for asking.

  It wasn't as if she was a blushing virgin.

  But surely he must know she'd never lie about something so important as a baby?

  Then again, he didn't really know her, did he?

  She ruthlessly held back a panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

  Stay calm.

  Don't freak out.

  Don't punch him in the face.

  T.C. took a deep, if shaky, inhale and let out a long breath.

  She'd mastered the same technique over years of dealing with her parents.

  "You'll just have to take my word on it."

  "Will I?"

  "Your choice. I've done my duty. Goodbye."

  He blinked slowly like an owl. "That's it? You ask me here, drop a grenade, pull the pin and tell me to walk out? I don't think so."

  For the life of her, T.C. couldn't understand why he wasn't already out the door.

  After all, that's what most men would do when presented with such news under these particular circumstances.

  The fact he was still standing there and looking at her as if she'd lost her tiny mind rendered her speechless.

  It didn't last.

  "You can thank Ana that I invited you here in the first place. If it had been left up to me—"

  "You would never have told me," he finished her sentence.

  "Yup."

  "You are a something else, darlin'. What if your word isn't enough?" He went nose to nose with her. "What if I want proof? Because I am not going to pay a penny of child support without it."

  The room spun as nausea crawled into her throat.

  Good God.

  He thought she was after his money?

  Was he for real?

  Didn't he know she could buy and sell him a million times over?

  But before she could articulate a word, his eyes narrowed into slits before he continued, "Or are you planning an abortion and need the cash. Is that it?"

  Shock and horror held her utterly still as her eyes searched the fury in his.

  "What?" she whispered, not hearing her own words over a wei
rd hum in her ears. His sarcasm and the fact he did not trust her, at all, hurt so bad her voice sounded as if it was coming from a galaxy far, far, away. "You think I want to get rid of it?"

  "How do I know?"

  The buzzing in her ears, louder now, made the room spin. Her knees went weak and an ache in her belly throbbed with the one in her head. She wound her arms around her waist and swallowed the acid of bile in her throat.

  What a heartless bastard he was.

  "What's the matter?" Sean demanded, anger morphing into something that looked like worry.

  T.C. told herself to think.

  But the pain in her head became unbearable, as if someone had taken a hammer to her skull.

  "For God's sake, Theresa, you look as if you're about to pass out."

  I'd never kill a baby, or a child. Never.

  She tried to speak to him, to tell him, but no words came out.

  She felt strong hands on her arms as her world went black.

  ***

  When she came to, T.C. found herself lying on her side on her couch and being carefully considered by two female paramedics dressed in vivid green jump suits. They both wore blue latex gloves. One held a cardboard pot, which smelled as vile as she felt.

  "Welcome back," the dark-haired paramedic said in a cheery voice. "How's the head?"

  "Awful."

  "Pregnancy can trigger migraine in some women. It's the over production of hormones. I don't want to give you anti sick medication until a doctor's looked at you. However, you're severely dehydrated and need fluids so we're taking you for a ride in our state-of-the-art ambulance."

  "What will she need to take with her?" Sean asked.

  T.C. closed her eyes.

  She was so not up to dealing with him at the moment.

  God, she felt like total crap.

  "Cotton pj's, panties, toiletries. The usual, just in case they decide to keep her for observation. She'll feel a lot better once we've got her hydrated."

  If she'd been feeling more like herself, the thought of them talking about her as if she wasn't here and Sean Kennedy going through her stuff would have had smoke belching from her ears, but T.C. couldn't give a shit.

  The ride in the ambulance was not a highlight of T.C.'s life thus far. The smell of antiseptic had her sick into another grey cardboard pot. When Sean held her ponytail back from her face and told her she was going to be just fine and not worry about anything, she didn't even have the strength to roll her eyes.

  Why couldn't he just go away and leave her alone?

  Three hours later, T.C. awoke to find herself wearing a regulation hospital gown in a private hospital room with an intravenous drip in her arm and a machine bleeping next to her bed. Her pain in her head had dulled to a pulsing ache over her left eye and she desperately needed to pee.

  When she tried to sit, a strong hand on her shoulder made her jump.

  "Stay still. What do you need?" Sean asked her.

  She turned her head to find anxious tawny eyes studying her face.

  "Toilet."

  He pressed a button and seconds later a young Asian nurse bustled through the door.

  Kind brown eyes studied her face. "How are you feeling now? You look a bit better. Headache gone?"

  T.C. shook her head, bit back a whimper. "Still feel sick. The pain is down to a banging pound rather than someone taking an axe to my head. I need to pee."

  When the nurse produced a bed pan, T.C. simply gave her a hard look.

  "It's the safest way," the nurse said.

  Sean stepped out of the room while T.C. and the nurse did what they had to do.

  When the worst it was over, and she felt fully relieved in more ways than one, T.C. settled back against the pillows.

  The nurse checked the drip again. "You're fiancé is a lovely big man. He's been pacing up and down the corridor like a great caged beast."

  T.C. opened her mouth to say he wasn't her fiancé, but then decided she couldn't be bothered getting into a lengthy explanation with a complete stranger, so she offered a weak smile in response.

  A knock at the door signalled the arrival of two doctors, with an anxious Sean hot on their heels. She'd never been in hospital before and had to admit finding the experience a little unnerving, so she was glad to see him. Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Sean moved to take the seat next to her bed and took her hand in his.

  The older doctor had a shock of grey hair the color of a battleship. He wore a white shirt with a red bow tie. He took the chart from the nurse, read the stats and then turned shrewd and intelligent eyes upon T.C.

  "Hello, Theresa. I'm Mr. Brownlee. I'm your consultant and will be in charge of your care going forward. This is my registrar, Gareth Evans, who runs my maternity clinics. You're suffering from hyperemesis gravidarum (HG), which is a fancy name for prolonged and excessive nausea and vomiting. Apart from making you feel pretty grotty, the trouble with it is that it can cause a number of complications like dehydration, ketosis which is a serious condition resulting in the build-up of acidic chemicals in the blood and urine - ketones are produced when your body breaks down fat rather than glucose for energy resulting in weight loss; plus hypotension which is low blood pressure when standing. From our tests we can see you have the whole package. At the moment we're treating you with intravenous fluids and we'll see how you get on."

  "Will it harm the baby?" Sean voiced the question dancing on the tip of T.C.'s tongue.

  "HG is unpleasant with dramatic symptoms, but the good news is it's unlikely to harm the baby, if treated effectively. However, if it causes you to lose weight during pregnancy, Theresa, there is an increased risk that your baby may have a low birth weight. If it's any consolation many women have these symptoms and, although distressing, they will go away when the HG stops, usually around twenty weeks, or when the baby is born."

  "What causes it?" T.C. croaked, feeling all weepy and terribly scared for her baby.

  "Hormones are the culprit. Is there anything else going on with you we need to know?" Mr. Brownlee asked.

  "I have an extremely heightened sense of smell. The headaches are horrible. And I've lost weight."

  "We'll start anti-sick treatment immediately. The heightened sense of smell is common and normal in pregnancy. In fact, in many women it's the first sign that they are pregnant. It's important your fluid intake is monitored. Staying hydrated will help the headaches. Try and eat as healthy a diet as you can manage. It is crucial you get enough rest and plenty of sleep."

  T.C. took a breath and blinked frantically as she stared at the way Sean's fingers threaded hers as they held hands.

  God, what a horrible mess.

  Sean gently squeezed her fingers. "When can she go home?"

  "As soon as her stats are within a normal range and she's feeling better. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. Any questions?"

  Both Sean and T.C. shook their heads.

  Mr. Brownlee and his team moved towards to the door.

  With his hand on the handle the doctor paused and turned to eye them both.

  "And no stress."

  When the door closed, T.C. let the tears fall.

  On the one the hand she couldn't help it and on the other she could have kicked herself to show weakness in front of this man.

  "It will all work out, Theresa." Sean used a tissue from the box on the bedside cabinet to wipe her cheeks. "I've called Ana and she's on her way with Danni. I couldn't find your parent's contact details..."

  T.C.'s groan was heartfelt.

  She shook her head. "I'm not in contact with my parents. They're not a part of my life."

  There was a long silence, before he cleared his throat. "Okay. We can talk about why another day."

  She opened her eyes and found his glued to her face. "No, we won't."

  He frowned. "But, you're carrying their grandchild. Surely—"

  She shook her head very slowly and not once did her eyes leave his. "I wouldn't let the
m within a hundred miles of my child."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The soft knock at the door prevented Sean's response.

  There had been something in her eyes he couldn't identify.

  And that something had frozen the blood in his veins.

  But then Ana and Danni entered, armed with flowers and magazines and a bulging gift bag.

  Sean wasn't sure the laptop was a good idea, but he'd sneak it out later if she didn't follow the doctor's orders to the letter.

  A teary looking Ana dumped the flowers on a trolley and caught T.C. in a hug. "I'm so sorry, babe. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. How are you feeling?"

  "A lot better. And I appreciate the flowers, I really do. But I can't stand the smell at the moment."

  "Of course!" Ana grabbed both her flowers, Danni's bouquet of cream roses and headed for the door.

  When she returned empty handed, Sean assumed she'd handed them to a nurse.

  Deciding to the leave the girls in peace, he headed out to find the canteen and a strong black coffee, or three.

  Instead, he found a bemused looking Olivier standing in the hall with an armful of flowers.

  Olivier took one look at Sean's face. "How is she?"

  "Sick. She's suffering from dehydration."

  Olivier nodded as together they strolled toward the elevator.

  Neither spoke until they were in the hospital coffee shop.

  "Wow. Pregnant. I did not know you liked her," Olivier said.

  Sean heard the offer of a shoulder to cry on when he heard one.

  "She drives me crazy. But when she just collapsed like that—I've never felt fear like it."

  "Ana's blaming herself."

  Sean frowned. "For what?"

  "They had a difference of opinion about T.C.'s plan to bring up the child alone. After what she went through as a girl... You know my woman, she makes her feelings clear. When we received your call, Ana blamed herself."

  Sean absently stirred his coffee while he thought about it. "Makes sense. But sickness during pregnancy isn't anyone's fault. It's just one of those things."

  "Falling in love is not easy, my friend."