To Have the Doctor's Baby. Teresa Southwick

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      Ryleigh knew that though the hospital was nonprofit, expenses still had to be met, revenue recovered through insurance payments and invoice collection, which was all channeled back into the facility. “What happens to the babies at risk now?”

      “They get transferred to Phoenix or St. George, Utah. They’re the closest hospitals that have the personnel and equipment. But getting them there takes a lot of time and that’s the one thing these babies don’t have.”

      “I see.”

      His gaze narrowed, a clue that he didn’t believe she really got the severity of the need and was preparing to do battle. “ECMO is expensive.”

      “How much?”

      “A million. Maybe more.” He stood and put his palms flat on her desk, closing the space between them. “But the cost in terms of lives saved can’t be calculated. Not only would kids here at Mercy Medical Center be helped, but other hospitals in the Vegas Valley could transfer critically ill babies here, too. In some cases adults could also be helped.”

      There was the intensity that had first captivated her, that passion to save lives she’d found so compelling. A passion she’d experienced on a personal level. A passion he carefully controlled. She’d eventually learned the sad lesson that professional dedication was a single-minded mistress and didn’t share well with others.

      “Look, Nick—”

      “I know it’s a long shot, Ry. But can you put a price tag on hope?”

      How easily he’d slipped back into the familiar with her. That was both good and bad. “Get me the numbers.”

      “What?”

      “I need to know what the actual cost is, and then we can talk.”

      He stared at her as if she had two heads. “Really?”

      “Yes.”

      He grinned again. “Should have known you couldn’t say no to a baby.”

      Baby.

      One small word that tapped into her bottomless well of longing. She loved kids, all kids. The money this organization raised would go a long way to helping the sick ones get better, which was why she’d applied for this job. She’d taken it because more than anything she wanted a child of her own. This time around she and Nick were friends, and she knew how to ask for what she wanted.

      Absently he picked up the nameplate from her desk and looked at it and then her. “Ryleigh Evans. I didn’t know you’d gone back to your maiden name.”

      “It wasn’t information that I felt was text message worthy. Are you surprised?”

      “Only that you haven’t found a guy. Married. Started a family.”

      “It’s not that easy.” Not one man she’d dated had measured up to Nick. And he’d just given her the opening she was waiting for. “But you’re right. I very much want to have a child.”

      “That was something we probably should have discussed before we got married.”

      By the time she’d brought up the subject, the marriage was already in trouble. Their relationship counselors agreed that bringing a baby into the mix would only accelerate the downward spiral.

      “Yeah,” she said. “But everything with us happened so fast.”

      She’d been so swept away by the dashing Dr. Damian. Nothing and no one could have convinced her that a man who fought so hard for a child’s life wouldn’t want children of his own. Then she’d brought up the subject.

      She couldn’t call that discussion an argument. Nick never argued. He was either called away for a patient or simply left. The last time he’d put her off, she did the leaving.

      “It was my fault, Ryleigh. I just—It wasn’t—” He shook his head in frustration—a doer, not a talker. “You’ll find someone and get married, have children.”

      “One doesn’t actually have to be married to have a baby. In all this time, I haven’t met anyone who made me want to take the plunge again.”

      “It’ll happen.”

      “What if it takes years and my eggs turn into raisins? Advancing age and fertility are not compatible.” She folded her hands and rested them on the desk. “My parents tried for years to have a baby and it didn’t happen.”

      “Technically, that’s not accurate because you’re here.”

      “Yeah. But by the time they did, Mom was in her forties. She called me her miracle child.” Dark memories came flooding back, losing first her father and a couple years later her mom. “Some miracle.”

      “It really was. Do you know the odds of a woman conceiving in her forties—”

      “Please don’t quote statistics. They were my parents and they died before I was out of high school. There was so little time with them, I used to wonder why they’d bothered. Now I understand the passion my mom felt, the yearning to have a baby because I feel it, too. But I also want to be young while my child is. More important, I want to actually be there while my child grows up.”

      “Don’t sweat it. You’re young—”

      “Not that young.” She stared at him. “I’m twenty-eight and a half. My biological clock is ticking and the prospects for marriage aren’t looking good.”

      “Give it time,” he said.

      “I did that. And I’m finished holding my breath, Nick.” The bar had been set really high and that was his fault. “I’m through with waiting.”

      “Do you have another choice?”

      “As a matter of fact, I do. I can be a single mom.”

      “It’s a big decision,” he said.

      “One I haven’t come to lightly. I’m well aware of the difficulties. But I simply can’t imagine my life without a child in it. I want to feel a baby grow and move inside me. More than anything, I want to hold my baby and raise him or her.”

      “But, Ryleigh, doing it alone—”

      She held up a hand to stop him. “You’re not going to talk me out of this.”

      “Someone has to make you see reason.”

      “Logic doesn’t stand a chance against this longing to be a mother. Let me put it to you this way.” She’d thought long and hard about what to say to him. “The need I have for a baby is as powerful as yours is for sex. Could you be talked out of it?”

      “Point made.” There was an uneasy expression on his face, a crack in the facade. “But how are you going to make it happen? In vitro? Potluck from a sperm bank?”

      “I’d prefer not to do that.” She met his gaze. “The hormone shots. The higher risk of it not being successful. СКАЧАТЬ