Twenty minutes later, Bernie was in the emergency room, flat on her back on an ultrasound table. Jeremy sat in a chair beside the table, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. He looked genuinely worried, which made Bernie worry even more. In spite of all the hard times she knew were coming her way because of the babies, she knew now just how desperate she was not to lose them.
The doctor squirted the goopy stuff on her abdomen and ran the transducer across it. “Any bleeding before today?” she asked.
“No,” Bernie said. “None.”
The doctor moved the transducer one way, then another, watching the screen the whole time. Bernie tried to make sense of the images, but for all she knew, the black-and-white blobs could have been the topography of the moon.
“Are the babies okay?” Bernie asked, terrified of the answer she might receive.
“Take it easy,” the doctor said. “They’re fine. You’re in no immediate danger of losing the pregnancy.”
“Thank God,” Bernie murmured. She turned to Jeremy in time to see his eyes drift closed and his shoulders sag with relief.
“But there is something going on we need to watch. See that dark spot?” she said, pointing to the screen. “That’s a subchorionic hematoma.”
“What’s that?”
“A gathering of blood between the membranes of the placenta and the uterus. In other words, a blood clot.”
“Is that dangerous?”
“It’s not a big one, so probably not. Most of the time a clot that size will bleed out or be absorbed. But until that happens, it’d be a good idea for you to go on bed rest.”
Bernie came to attention. “What?”
“If you’ll just stay in bed for a couple of weeks, it’s possible that—”
“Wait a minute. No. I can’t stay in bed. I have to work.”
The doctor shook her head. “Not a good idea. A clot increases your chance for miscarriage. Activity only aggravates it. You need to be on bed rest. You can get up to go to the bathroom, maybe have dinner at the table if you want to. No heavy lifting, though, and no sex. Have your doctor recheck you in a few weeks. If the clot is gone, the danger is over, and you should be able to go back to work.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“More bed rest. More monitoring. Depending on the severity of any future bleeding, possible hospitalization until delivery.”
Bernie felt a flood of anxiety, her thoughts spinning a hundred miles an hour. If she didn’t work, she didn’t get paid. If she was gone long enough, her health insurance would be in jeopardy.
“But I have only a few days of sick leave left. I can’t possibly stay home from work all that time. And my job is very sedentary. I do nothing but sit all day. Surely that would be okay.”
“For the health and safety of you and your baby, my recommendation is bed rest. But in the end, it’s up to you.”
After the doctor left the room, Jeremy looked at Bernie with worried eyes. “Are you okay?”
Bernie closed her eyes. “Not really.”
“The babies are going to be all right.”
“As long as I don’t work. That’s going to be a problem.”
“Maybe not the problem you think. You get dressed. I’ll go to the desk and make sure they have your insurance straight and the bill is settled. Then we can get out of here.”
As Jeremy left the room, Bernie took off the gown and put on her shirt. The nurse had given her a plastic bag for her jeans and a pair of scrub pants so she’d have something to leave the hospital in. She stuffed the jeans in the bag and put on the pants. They had little hearts all over them. Bernie had never felt so ridiculous in her life.
A few minutes later, she walked out to the waiting room, barely slowing down as she passed Jeremy. “Let’s go.”
He rose and followed her. “We need to talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“How are you going to work out this bed rest thing?” he said, walking alongside her.
“I’ll figure something out. It’s only for a few weeks.”
They went through the sliding glass doors into the parking lot. It was dark now, with only the weak halos of a few streetlights gleaming through the moonless night. “What if it’s for more than a few weeks?”
“I’ll figure that out, too.”
Jeremy clicked to unlock the doors to the car and they got in.
“So what’s your plan?” he asked her.
“Start the car.”
“As soon as you tell me what’s going to happen if you can’t work for a few months.”
She didn’t want to go into this. She didn’t want to tell him that she needed every spare dime she had now, along with every one she’d earn in the future, for her mother’s care when she got to the point that she couldn’t take care of herself. The idea of her mother going into some dark, depressing nursing home filled with heartless employees because she didn’t have insurance and couldn’t afford anything better was more than Bernie could stand.
Only now it wasn’t just her mother she had to worry about. It was the babies, too. Being a mother herself meant she’d never work as a bodyguard again and make that kind of money, and whatever money she did make would undoubtedly come from some boring eight-to-five job she hated. It was an uphill battle that seemed harder to fight with every day that passed.
“It’ll put me in a bind,” she admitted. “I have some sick leave coming, but only a few days. I need the money.”
“Screw the money.”
“Spoken like a man with plenty to spare.”
“That’s right. I have plenty to spare. Which is why, number one, your rent checks are no good with me, so don’t even waste the paper it takes to write one. But right now, that’s irrelevant, because, number two, you need to stay with me.”
Bernie froze. “What?”
“Just until you’re back on your feet again. It’s a rational solution. It’ll cut your expenses, and you need somebody helping you. Mrs. Spencer will be there to get your meals and anything else you need.”
Bernie was flabbergasted. “No way. I’m not staying with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not necessary. I just need groceries. My mother can bring them to me.”
“You heard the doctor. It could be two weeks or two months. Do you really want to be stuck inside your apartment all that time? In bed, no less?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but when a lie was all she could manage, she shut it again.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Jeremy said.
“I can stay with my mother.”
“Is that what you really want to do?”
Once again, she didn’t respond.
“Another no,” Jeremy said. “You’re staying with me.”
She looked at him with irritation. “Have you ever thought about asking instead of demanding?”
He looked confused. “Asking?”
“Is it really so hard to be nice?”
“Nice?”
Good Lord. Was she speaking Farsi? “You know. Offer something nicely. Instead of saying, ‘You’re staying with me and that’s that,’ why don’t you try this: ‘Bernie, I’d be delighted to have you stay with me until you’re back on your feet again.’ ”
“Sorry. I’m not very good at nice.”
“Oh, give me a break. You pour on the charm so thick sometimes it damn near smothers people.”
“So that’s what you want me to be? Charming?”
“Let’s put it this way. Right now, I’d rather you be insincerely nice than sincerely demanding.”
“How about I just give you a good, logical reason? In the weeks you’re staying with me, I can move your apartment to the top of the list for renovations. New paint, new appliances, new window coverings. You shouldn’t be around those fumes when you’re pregnant, anyway. You want the place nice for the babies, don’t you?”
She thought about that for a moment. “Okay. So that’s logical. But there’s still something you haven’t considered when it comes to the two of us occupying the same house.”
“What?”
“You know our history. We fight about everything. Sooner or later we’ll kill each other.”
A sly smile stole across his lips. “There are a lot of things I’d like to do to you, Bernie. Killing you isn’t one of them.”
She felt a tremor of awareness that shuddered right down to her fingertips. The memory of him kissing her in the car came back so vividly that for a moment all she could think about was him touching her again. How would she ever be able to deal with those feelings if she was living in the same house with him?
“You heard my doctor,” she said. “Sex is out of the question right now. Not that we’d be having it even if it weren’t.”
“Oh, yeah? An hour ago, you wanted it as much as I did.”
“Okay. So let’s say it eventually happens. What comes after that? You wait for me to chase you for an encore so you can avoid my calls and pretend I don’t exist?”
“What?”
“It’s your pattern with every woman you’ve ever been with, and I’m not interested in being one of them.”
“I think you’re protesting too much.”
“And I think you have an ego the size of the Grand Canyon and can’t comprehend a woman telling you no.”
“You didn’t tell me no tonight.”
“You’re right,” she said with a sigh. “And if I’d gone through with it, it would have been a big mistake.”
“Why?”
She leaned back in the seat, suddenly feeling even older than she was and so tired she could have slept for a week.
“Do I even have to explain it? The last time we had sex, things got a little complicated. I don’t want any more complications. I’m only a few years from forty. I’m pregnant with twins. I have responsibilities you can’t even fathom. You have the time and the money for fun and games. I don’t.”
“Okay, then. Forget sex.”
Bernie’s eyebrows flew up. “Did you just say ‘forget sex’?”
“Yes. It was hard to form the words, but I managed. Do I get points for that?”
“Only if you stick to it. If I stay with you, you have to promise me that what happened between us in the car tonight will never happen again.”
Jeremy didn’t like the way that sounded. Too final, as if she didn’t mean just for now, while she was on bed rest. She meant forever. And he was shocked at how miserable that made him feel.
But it didn’t have to be final, did it?
The problem was that she didn’t trust him. She assumed as soon as she moved in with him, he’d move in on her. Not that they could actually have sex. The doctor had ruled that out. But she thought that was all he was after. The truth was that he knew Bernie, and it wasn’t in her nature to take it easy. If she was under his roof, he’d know for sure she was following doctor’s orders. But he had to be smart about it. After the thing with Madeline, Bernie thought she had a monopoly on reverse psychology.
Not true.
“I have a guest suite,” he told her. “Living room, bedroom, bathroom, balcony. Very comfortable. It’s in a separate wing of the house. Practically in another zip code. Mrs. Spencer can bring your meals to you. You’ll be well taken care of. And the best part?” He paused. “You’ll never even have to see me.”
She looked a little undecided about that, and for a moment he thought she was going to object right off the bat and tell him she didn’t want to spend weeks in that guest suite all by herself.
“Thank you,” she said. “That sounds perfect.”
Jeremy felt a little quiver of disappointment, only to tell himself it would be short-lived. He’d just have to let solitary confinement take its toll. Within a few days, she’d be clawing at the door, begging for a little company, and he’d be happy to oblige.