Page 57 of Theirs to Treasure
Then, professionally but firmly, Alexandra addresses us. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us?”
I scowl. “I’d like to know what’s going on.”
“For now, I’d like to spend some time with Harper by myself. If that changes, I’ll come for you.”
From the expression on Harper’s face, there’s little chance of that happening.
I should appreciate Alexandra’s protectiveness toward Harper, but it’s in conflict with my own, creating inner turmoil.
Zev shows them both to our massage room.
It seems like the perfect choice. Along with the stand-in for an examination table, there are a couple of comfortable chairs in the space.
When Zev returns, I glance at the decanter sitting on the nearby bar. “Too early?”
“If Harper were happier, I’d suggest popping a bottle of champagne.”
Unlike the woman of our dreams, we’ve been thinking about the baby for close to a month.
Factor in what Edward and her family did to her… No wonder she wants her independence.
I’d pluck the moon from the sky for her.
But letting her go a second time is the one thing I cannot grant her.
Our wait seems endless.
And this is only the first of dozens of interminable appointments, I’m sure.
I pace, take phone calls, try to burn off my excess energy. Knowing she is okay matters a great deal to me.
“We should consider house hunting—looking for a house we all like,” Zev interrupts my musings.
“This is a damn estate. We have more than enough room.”
“Apparently, that’s not the only thing we need to consider. And if you intend to be the ultimate victor, then you’re going to have to give in some areas.”
Not a strategy I’ve ever embraced.
Finally Dr. Bennett emerges.
“How is she?” I ask.
“You’ll have to discuss that with Harper.” She smiles to soften the fact she’s refused to answer my question. “We’ve scheduled a follow-up appointment.”
At least that means Harper doesn’t hate the doctor.
I turn my wrist to tap the date and time into my phone. “When?”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information. If Harper would like to let you know?—”
“She wouldn’t,” Harper says, walking down the hallway toward us, bundled in her sweatshirt. She drills me with a hard stare. “This is not negotiable, Forrest.”
“Could try a little sugar to go with your arsenic.” Zev shrugs, looking at me.
Beyond frustrated, I show Alexandra to the door. Even though I inquire, as subtly as I know how, I’m unable to get any more information from her.
When I return to the great room, Harper is sitting curled up against the corner of the couch, and Zev is in one of the two leather chairs.