Do Anything (25 page)

“What is this?” I squeal.

“What’s it look like?” Holden asks. I can’t stop staring at the scene in front of me. “I wanted to give you a real English winter treat.”

“Is this for real?” I ask in disbelief.

Holden crosses in front of me, leading the way to the entrance of our awaiting ride. “I have hot chocolate waiting for us.”

“Get out!” I exclaim.

The driver turns around in his seat, tips his hat with a grin, and greets me. I walk over to join Holden and, with his assistance, climb aboard. He steps up and settles in the seat next to me, tucking the blanket all around us. I sigh in delight.

With a jerk, we’re off. The air is cold on my cheeks, but I love the freshness of it. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. It smells of pine in the air, and it’s like all my senses are more alive than they’ve been in weeks. Being trapped inside, with my feet propped up, people catering to me, has left me with a strong desire to get out and move around. It’s like Holden could read my mind. Opening my eyes, I realize he’s watching me.

“What?” I ask, trying to play it coy.

He shakes his head. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Carefree … happy.”

I think about that; he’s right. I am happy; in this exact moment I have let go of my fears and worries and found my joy. The cold overtakes me, and I shiver. He places his arm around me. My initial instinct is to maintain our distance, but then I decide this one time, just this once, I’m going to do what I want. I press into him, resting my head on his shoulder. The cold no longer seems to be an issue.

We glide across the white sheet, sipping hot cocoa, laughing at stories about Abner, dreaming about the possible future of me being a best-selling author. I sigh in utter contentment.

“We better get you back,” he remarks.

“Oh, do we have to?” I protest.

He laughs and squeezes my hand. “Unless you want a Popsicle for a kid, we really need to get you back, Belle.”

“Oh all right,” I relent, pressing back into him again. If I only had a few more minutes of this, I was going to enjoy every single second. I could worry about making the decision that was best for my future later.

Kenzie had devoured the remaining chapters of
The Luckiest
, claiming she loved the end of it, which of course doesn’t surprise me. I think she would have loved anything I sent her. But my mother, on the other hand, has not returned the manuscript yet. It has only been a week, but every day feels like an eternity. I believe her approval, the approval of my toughest critic, would somehow guarantee my success.

It doesn’t help that I would give anything to get Holden off my mind. Since the sleigh ride all I’ve been able to think about is him. Jack was always a romantic; he loved bringing me flowers, taking me to expensive dinners, buying me jewelry, but it all felt routine with him. I’d come to expect it, and looking back, most of his gestures were probably penance for the numerous affairs he was having.

Holden is different. It is clear when he makes a romantic gesture he puts a ton of thought and time into each one. He brewed a beer and named it after my book, for Christ’s sake. How is a girl supposed to react to something like that? I mean, really, brew a beer for a lady, and then tell her she’s your muse. You have to know that will make her putty in your hands.

Grabbing the box of tissues next to my bed, I draw them close. Clutching one tightly in my hands, I blow my nose, my entire belly aching as the blow gives way to a coughing fit. Much to my dismay, after one of the most romantic gestures anyone has ever done for me, I end up with the flu only a few days later. Holden has barely given me a moment’s peace since the doctor last made a house call and placed me on bed rest. He recommended I head straight to the hospital in London, but I wouldn’t hear of it. I know the birth can happen anytime up to the forty-two week mark, and I have no intention of staying in a hospital bed for a couple weeks.

There’s a knock at my door, and before I can say a word, it cracks open and Holden sticks his head through. “Evening, beautiful, can I come in?”

I shift into an upright position, the hum of the dehumidifier buzzing in my head. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the circles under my eyes and red of my nose makes me wish Holden wasn’t seeing me in such a state. “Yes, of course,” I reply, tucking my hair behind my ears, as if that somehow makes my appearance better.

He steps into the room, wringing his hands nervously. “Is everything all right?” I ask, spotting the behavior.

Careful and quiet as he moves, he closes the door behind him and crosses over to stand next to me. He doesn’t sit in the chair across from the bed like he normally would. Instead, he motions to sit on the edge of the bed. This puzzles me, but I agree.

He looks around the room before asking, “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty miserable,” I reply, tugging my blankets up my body a little more.

“Can I get you anything?” I can tell there’s something else he wants to talk to me about.

“I’m fine.”

“Bea said you still had a fever,” he continues.

“Yes, she’s gone and called for Doctor Marshall again. I told her there’s no need, but you know Bea. She doesn’t listen to anyone once she’s made up her mind.”

“No, she doesn’t,” he agrees. “It probably won’t hurt, you know, the doctor having another look at you that is.”

“I suppose not,” I say.

“I think I heard Bea say he can’t get out here until morning, though.”

“See, a waste. I’ll already be better by then.”

“I hope so …” I can tell he’s stalling. He shifts and is staring out the window.

“Did you need something?” I try and prompt him into revealing the reason for his visit.

“Did you see? More snow,” he comments, his gaze not shifting from the window.

“I did; it looks like it’s really coming down out there.” The baby shifts as I talk, and I try and move my weight, wincing from the pain in my lower back.

His head snaps back to me, and he reaches out to give me a hand. “Are you all right?”

I huff, deciding directness is going to be the easiest. “I’m fine. Now are you going to tell me why you’re really here?”

“Am I that obvious?” he asks with that crooked smile. I can’t remember what his lips taste like in this moment, and I wish I could lean forward and remind myself.

“A little.”

“I wanted to come and talk to you about your plans.”

“My plans?”

“Yeah, after the baby comes.”

I shake my head. I still can’t figure out where he’s going with this. “I guess once the kid is old enough to fly, I’ll head home.”

“Home,” he repeats softly.

“Yeah, home. Holden, what’s going on, and why are you being so weird?”

“Are you happy, Belle?”

“I’d be a lot happier if I didn’t have the flu.”

“No, I mean here, with us. Are you happy with us?”

“We can’t do this.” All of the sudden it becomes clear. He has had the same questions weighing on him that I’ve had on myself. I’m no closer to figuring out the answer than I was months ago.

“Do what?” he questions.

“You know what. I can’t have this talk again.”

“The baby is going to be here before we know it, so I think we need to have this talk while we still can.”

I grip the bedspread before coughing repeatedly. I’m not sure how pregnant women don’t pee themselves every time they sneeze, or perhaps that’s the dirty little secret, and they do. “Fine, you want to talk, let’s talk. I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do, and honestly, I have no clue.”

“Are you happy here?” he repeats his earlier question.

“Of course I am, but that doesn’t matter. I’m about to be a mom. I need to quit thinking about my love life and focus on how not to completely screw this kid’s life up.” I’m honest; I know the truth is the only way to get him to stop. I wipe away a drip of sweat from my brow, and I notice the heat of the fever.

“I don’t think you becoming a mother should have anything to do with this,” he argues.

“Wow, and I have no idea how you can say that. This baby is all that matters right now.”

He swallows and leans forward, forcing me to see his eyes when he says, “Baby or not, I need you in my life. I don’t want to wake up one day full of regret, asking myself why didn’t I fight.”

“Fight? What are you talking about?”

“For you, damn it. I know you love me, but you keep pushing me away. Like if you love me it’s some sort of betrayal to your unborn baby.”

“Don’t you get it? I can’t choose my happiness over hers.”

“I don’t understand. Why does it have to be an either or? She’s a part of you, and I’ll love her just like I love you.”

“And for how long?”

“Is that what this is about? You think I’m going to change my mind one day?”

“It happens,” I insist.

“I’m not Jack.”

“Nobody said you were.” I realize my voice is raised now. I reach over and take a sip of water, trying to soothe my burning throat.

“I want to cherish everything about you. The way you crinkle your nose when you laugh, the way to try to look sexy when you lick your lips, the way you keep trying different types of tea, even though I know you hate all of them.” Holden’s words make me want to wrap my arms around him, but at the same time they terrify me.

“How do I know if I can trust you?” I can feel my heart racing now, the sweat pouring out of me. Holden braces me when I have another coughing fit.

“Are you all right?” he asks again, and I nod my head.

“My dad always said looking into one’s eyes is like looking at the truth. Look in my eyes, Belle, and you’ll see.”

My head is spinning; I feel nausea wash over me, along with an overwhelming feeling like my head is expanding, about to pop. It’s as though I’ve just gotten off of a carnival ride, and I can’t even see straight ahead of me. I feel Holden reach out and grab me, and he’s saying my name over and over, but it’s like he’s getting farther away.

I focus my energy to try and look at his face, but I can’t. It’s cloudy and white all around me, darkness at the edges. I try and take a deep breath, but it’s not helping. If Holden releases me, I feel as though I might fall and continue to fall for an eternity, never hitting the ground. My heart jumps in my chest, and then the black residing at the corners of my vision moves inward, consuming everything until there is nothing. No voices, no sounds, no light. Just darkness.

“What do you mean here?” I hear Bea’s voice; it’s heavy with concern.

“Is that safe?” Holden asks. I try to open my eyes, but I can’t. I know they’re around me, but I’m unsure where I am. I think I’m lying down.

“If we take her out in this blizzard, we’ll never make it to the hospital in time. We don’t have any other choice.” It’s Dr. Marshall.

“What about an airlift?” Holden questions.

“My guess is there aren’t any choppers taking off in this, and even if they were, there isn’t enough time,” Dr. Marshall states bluntly.

“This can’t be happening.” Holden is panicked, but why?

“It’s going to be all right,” Bea reassures him. I wonder when someone will reassure me.

I try and open my eyes again, but nothing. My brain is telling my mouth to speak, but it won’t. I want to cry. I want to shake the doctor and ask what there isn’t enough time for.

“You can’t give her something to slow the labor down?” It’s Holden’s voice again.

I hear Dr. Marshall sigh and then some clanking sounds of bottles. “The labor has already progressed too far, and I’m pretty sure Annabelle has full-blown pneumonia now. There’s no way she is going to be strong enough to push this baby out. If the labor progresses and the child is in the birth canal—Jesus, I don’t even want to think about what could happen. We need to take the baby now.”

Now I’m panicked. Take the baby? What in the hell is happening? This has to be a dream—one of those horrible dreams where you’re paralyzed while the magician is cutting you in half.
It’s a nightmare. You need to wake up, Annabelle. Wake up! Now!
But I still can’t move.

“I’m going to give her something to make sure she doesn’t wake up during the procedure. Holden, I need you to help Bea get everything together on my list,” Dr. Marshall instructs the faceless people in the room with me.