Marry Me...Again. Cheryl St.John

obscure future—not in just thirty-two short weeks!

      He was barely getting the hang of being a husband, let alone a dad to a small needy human being. The mere thought frightened the wits out of him. How could Brynna accept unexpected parenthood so serenely?

      She knew what she wanted, he realized, and what she wanted included her medical career, a husband and a family. He hadn’t known he’d wanted a wife until he’d met her. And once he had, there hadn’t been a doubt in his mind that she was the one.

      Maybe once he saw their baby—once the kid was real, he’d feel the same. He would know their child was what he wanted, too.

      He’d thought they were going to have a couple of years to play at marriage and be newlyweds. There was so much he wanted to share with her—to show her—places she’d never been. She’d worked her way through medical school and had sacrificed for her brothers and sister, and she deserved some time to enjoy life. He could give her that.

      Dev paused with his hand on a stall gate, realization flooding over him like a bright light. His wife wanted a family. A baby. He had already given her that. A completely male sense of pride accompanied that thought. So be it. Maybe parenthood was happening sooner than he’d had time to plan for, but it was happening, so he could appreciate that. He could be happy.

      Brynna had seemed quiet and withdrawn the last couple of days, undoubtedly because of his reaction. He’d disappointed her. On top of that, he’d blown it by not showing up for Tuck’s party. She had a right to be mad.

      She had to work late tonight, pull her Saturday-night shift at the clinic, but he would fix a late supper and surprise her with something special. He imagined her pleasure and her smile and knew everything would be okay. It had to be. The rift between them these past few days was unbearable, and he meant to fix it.

      He’d finished turning the last screw and was filling the salt holders when a ringing sound caught his ear. Remembering he’d left his cell phone on the seat of the truck, he hurried outside. Brynna often called him when she had a few minutes, and he didn’t want to miss her call. The number on the caller ID indicated Rumor Family Clinic. “Hey, sweet thing,” he said into the phone.

      “Thanks,” a voice replied. “But this is Rae Ann Benton. We just put Brynna in a bed and are getting ready to do an exam and an ultrasound.”

      Dev’s chest felt like a horse had kicked it, and he struggled for a breath to ask, “What happened?”

      His imagination conjured up all kinds of accidents and confrontations with unstable patients.

      “Can’t say for sure yet, but it looks like she’s at risk of losing the baby.”

      Dev’s heart dropped to his feet.