Triplets For The Texan. Janice Maynard

early to know if all the fetuses are viable.”

      Naomi sprang to her feet and paced. “How can you be so damned calm? This is huge. What were you thinking, Simone? You own and manage a thriving ad agency. You have no husband. Why on earth would you do something so crazy?”

      Sadly, Simone couldn’t tell the whole truth. Not to Naomi or Cecelia, and certainly not to Hutch. “I wanted a baby,” she said stubbornly. “By the time I got in the midst of everything, I began to have my doubts, but I didn’t back out. I should have, I suppose.”

      “Ya think?” Naomi seemed more indignant than flat-out angry. Simone understood, really, she did. If the situations had been reversed, surely she would have expressed doubts about Naomi’s decision.

      “I screwed up, Naomi. I know that now. But I didn’t know how sick I could get. And besides...”

      “Besides, what?”

      “I want them,” Simone whispered. “The babies. All of them. Hutch said it wasn’t too late from a medical standpoint to rethink my position, but I could never do that. I started this, and I’ll finish it.”

      Naomi pursed her lips. “I hope it doesn’t finish you.”

      Hutch returned in time to hear that last comment. He frowned when he saw Simone upright, but he didn’t say anything.

      Simone looked at him. “May I have a drink of water, please?”

      “It’s up to you. It would be good if you can manage it.”

      With both of them watching, Simone didn’t want to make a scene, but she knew she couldn’t avoid drinking indefinitely. There was a pitcher and disposable cups on the bedside table. Hutch poured one glass half-full and offered it to her. She took it from him, wincing. “Bottoms up.”

      With her two observers looking on eagle-eyed, she sipped tentatively. At first, the water tasted amazing. Her lips were partially chapped. The cool liquid felt wonderful in her parched throat. But moments later, her stomach cramped sharply. “Hutch!” She panicked.

      He was there immediately, holding a small basin as the water came back up and she retched helplessly. Hutch held her hair. Naomi produced a damp cloth for her forehead. Oh, God. If she had ever felt so humiliated and miserable, she couldn’t remember it.

      Hutch didn’t wait for permission. He removed the pillows and helped her lie flat again. “Okay now?” he asked.

      She nodded, unable to look at either of them. “I’m sorry to drag you both into this.”

      Naomi forced a laugh that sounded almost natural. “C’mon, girl. We’ve been through a lot of rough patches together over the years. Cecelia and I will help. And you’re not poor. That’s a plus.”

      Even Hutch thought that was funny, though he quickly turned his chuckle into a cough. It was probably not acceptable bedside manner to make jokes at the patient’s expense.

      “Hilarious.” Suddenly, it struck her. “Well, crud. I’ll never fit into a slinky bridesmaid dress.”

      Even Naomi didn’t have the chutzpah to pretend that wasn’t true. But she tried to put a spin on it. “Maybe they’ll elope. You never know.”

      Hutch spoke up, for the first time sounding more like a doctor than an interested party. “I’m glad you came by, Naomi. I’ll keep you posted if anything changes. Simone needs to rest now.”

      Simone wanted to argue that he was being high-handed, but it was the truth. “I should tell Cecelia the news in person,” she said.

      “No worries.” Naomi gathered up her car keys and cell phone. “I’ll take care of it. She’ll understand.”

      That wasn’t the problem. No one was going to understand unless Simone’s original motive was revealed. Then she was in big trouble. “Thank you, Naomi.”

      “Anything for a friend.” With a wave and a smile, she was gone.

      In the silence that followed Naomi’s departure, Simone tried to pretend Hutch had left, as well. Unfortunately, he was impossible to ignore.

      Simone loved her bedroom, as a rule. She had always found it soothing with its color scheme of pale lemon yellow and navy. It wasn’t too girly.

      Today, though, with Hutch in residence, the charming space felt claustrophobic. “How long do I have to have the IV?”

      “Until you can take nourishment of some kind. I’ll show you how to unhook and stop the monitor from beeping when you need to go to the bathroom. You’ll have to promise me, though, that you’ll hold on to something and sit down the moment you feel dizzy. Otherwise, I’m going in there with you.”

      “Over my dead body.” Her whole body flushed.

      He didn’t bother arguing that one.

      “You look tired,” she said impulsively.

      Hutch half turned, his striking face in profile. “It’s been a tough day,” he said.

      “Surely not as tough as Sudan.”

      “Tough in a different way. You need to sleep now, Simone.”

      “It’s only seven o’clock. Have you eaten?”

      “I’ll get something later.”

      “Go now,” she urged. “I swear I won’t move until you get back.”

      He shook his head, his expression wry. “I’m not sure I trust you. For the next seventy-two hours, you’re my responsibility.”

      “What am I supposed to do if I can’t eat or drink or get out of bed?”

      “How about a movie?”

      “Will you watch it with me?”

      His dark gaze made her shiver, despite her weakened state. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and dropped his chin to his chest. After a moment, he lifted his shoulders and let them fall, then looked at her with a carefully blank expression. “If that’s what you want. I’ll go make myself a sandwich. Here’s the remote. You pick something out and I’ll be back shortly.”

      She channel surfed halfheartedly, feeling almost normal for the moment. The pregnancy didn’t seem entirely real. Was that odd? Shouldn’t she feel a rush of maternal devotion? She did have a connection already. She knew life was growing in her womb even now. But those little blips on the screen didn’t have faces and personalities. What if they grew up to be like her?

      Eventually, she found a Tom Hanks romantic comedy from the ’80s in the on-demand section. That would do the trick. She and Hutch could make fun of the sappy dialogue. At least that’s what she told herself. Never in a million years would she let him know how much she loved that story.

      When he came back from the kitchen, he had his hands full. He stopped in the doorway as if expecting to find her flouting his orders. She smiled innocently. “I’ve been good as gold.”

      “That’ll be the day.”

      Her bed was a king, so when Hutch parked himself on the opposite side, there was an entire stretch of mattress protecting her virtue. Not that it mattered. Who was she kidding? She’d seen herself in the mirror.

      Hutch got comfortable and began to wolf down his meal. Suddenly he looked at her in dismay. “Will the smell bother you? I can eat in the kitchen.”

      “No. I’m fine. If you were eating Thai food, it might be different. That ham sandwich is nausea neutral.”

      She started the movie, trying not to notice the way Hutch seemed entirely comfortable in her bed. When they had been a couple, she had lived in an upscale apartment downtown, as had Hutch. They’d split their time between locations, some nights in his bed, some nights in hers.

      The sex had been incredible, but even more than that was the feeling of rightness...