Chapter Fourteen

I Never Saw That One Coming

Lilah's POV

Summer was winding itself down to an end, lingering in what was the warmest month throughout most of the nation, but while the temperatures would still be blistering hot in my home state, here in my new home the temperature hovered in the early seventies, which was a welcome change for me. Disregarding my wolf man, I hated the heat, couldn't stand sweating, and would have been looking forward to a day at the beach, basking in my newfound love of swimming in the mild weather...if I hadn't been sick, that is.

But the truth of the matter was that I was sick...as a dog, to be perfectly honest, and I'd finally consented to go to the doctor, after Paul had pestered me for a week, threatening me with all different types of nonsense, finally holding firm on his refusal to get me anymore of the cinnamon rolls that I'd become rather addicted to this past week until I went to see the doctor. I don't know why I wanted the damn things so much anyway...I couldn't keep anything down, but that hadn't stopped my cravings for the sweets, and I'd finally caved, which was why I was sitting on a pitifully cushioned table, my body barely covered by the hospital gown I'd been provided, waiting for Dr. Feel-good to make an appearance.

I'd been a little shocked that Paul had agreed to me seeing Dr. Cullen, but I guess that he'd figured since it was my one stipulation, the one thing I'd insisted on, that he was left with no other option...unless he wanted me to throw a holy terror of a fit and refuse to go. That was another thing that was so odd about me lately...I'd been on an emotional rollercoaster, up one day and down the next, making Paul half-crazy with my mood swings, the poor man.

Even more surprising was that Dr. Cullen had agreed to see me. He was an emergency room physician, after all, and my condition hardly qualified as an emergency, but he'd agreed none the less, and it was only now, that I was all but naked, save for a paltry cotton gown that tied around my neck, that I fully realized that he was going to see me this way...even if he didn't do a full examination, all he had to do was walk around the table and he'd see my naked ass! What in hell had I been thinking? I must have been fully, completely, and absolutely out of my mind! The only question now was whether or not I could get into my clothes and make an escape before he made his appearance. Paul would be mad at me for skipping out, but there was no doubt in my mind that I would rather deal with his temper than the embarrassment of Carlisle Cullen possibly getting an eyeful of my rather generous backside.

I was on the verge of hopping down off of the examining table when the curtain that had been providing me with privacy slid open, and Dr. Cullen entered my world, making me quickly backtrack, an action that resulted in considerable strain and possible destruction being wreaked upon the gown shielding my body from his golden gaze, a gaze that grew amused, and at the same time, sympathetic as I did my best to compose myself, when what I really wanted to do was curl up and die, under the examining table, as a matter of fact, if that could be arranged.

"Good morning Lilah," he said quietly, the corner of his mouth quirking almost imperceptibly as he stepped into the tiny room provided by the four walls of curtain, closing the makeshift "door" behind him. I'm sure that he had intended the smile as one kept to himself, but I noticed it and the flush that had took over my face burned so badly that it was nearly painful, though the pain was more than likely due to my complete mortification. "I understand that you haven't been feeling well. Rumor has it that you've been vomiting for a week or so now. Is that a correct estimation?"

I had a good idea who it was that had been spreading those rumors...poor Paul...it was so hard for him, sitting outside the bathroom door, sometimes helplessly pacing as I tossed up the contents of my stomach. It had to have been a distasteful sentry, listening to me puke, but he'd never seemed repulsed, just concerned. Of course, that didn't stop me from blushing anew, imagining him discussing my upchucking with Dr. Cullen, which was ridiculous, considering that he was a doctor, but as usual, knowing that he was used to hearing and/or seeing things that were embarrassing to me didn't do a damn thing to make me feel any better.

"Yes, that's right," I answered, trying to look anywhere but his eyes, still struggling to regain my composure. "A week and a half at least, maybe even two weeks."

"Has the vomiting been limited to once a day, or are the instances frequent throughout the day?"

"Usually it's just once a day, although yesterday it was twice."

He'd been steadily writing in my chart, nodding as he did so, meeting my eyes occasionally, but suddenly he stopped, his face growing thoughtful as he gave me his complete attention.

"Are the bouts of nausea caused by something, say movement or a smell, or do they just occur spontaneously?"

"Usually it's early morning queasiness, though the second time yesterday happened right after I caught a whiff of some eggs that I'd just fried."

It dawned on me at the same moment that I saw it in his eyes, a comprehension of what these symptoms could very well mean and my stomach sank. There was no denying that it was something that I wanted, had wanted ever since I could remember, but what would Paul say? Would he be happy at all, or would he see the situation as a burden?

"When was the first day of your last menstrual period?" he asked quietly, almost gently, no doubt picking up on the sense of panic that was emanating from me.

I had to think for a moment, counting backward on my mental calendar. "The last day of June," I answered matter-of-factly. "The one on the thirtieth was my last period." It was odd that I was speaking of something so personal as my menstrual period without stammering or blushing, considering the fact that my time of the month was much more personal than tossing my cookies...maybe I was in shock. Unfortunately I wasn't enough in shock to stop myself from realizing that it should have been obvious to me that I was probably preggers...after all, my period was four weeks late...how could I be so stupidly unobservant?

"Have you been unusually tired, in addition to the nausea and vomiting? Have you found that you're moodier than usual or lightheaded when you stand up? Have you felt the need to urinate more frequently than you normally do?"

Damn...since when was he so talkative? And what was worse was that he didn't even bother to give me a chance to answer one question before firing off another one. My temper started to grow, which was a totally new sensation where Dr. Cullen was concerned.

"I'm pretty well wiped-out all of the time," I snapped, my eyes filling with tears, which humiliated me, resulting in an increase of my anger. "Am I moody? Hmm...I guess you could say that Doc, considering the fact that I feel like death warmed over most days. I can't say that I've been lightheaded...I've been a little too preoccupied with puking my guts up every day, but the frequent urination...let's just say that when I'm not throwing up into the toilet, it's a pretty damn good bet that I'm peeing into it instead...does that clear things up for you?"

About halfway through my tirade he'd backed up somewhat and stood, arms crossed, one hand resting on his chin, watching me with an expression that was a cross between bemusement and astonishment on his face, and I slowly, painfully, became aware of the sound of my voice reverberating through the eerily silent ER. Oh dear God...had I really just railed at Dr. Cullen like a fishwife? There was no doubting the fact that I had, no matter how much I might wish for the opposite...damn...what a disaster.

"I guess that this wouldn't be the best time to ask if you've experienced any breast tenderness or weight gain then, would it?" he asked softly, his voice even and gentle, just as it always was, though he had every reason to tell me off, if he wanted to. He was the one doing me a favor, affording me the opportunity to see someone that I was more comfortable with, someone I knew, and I'd repaid his good deed by making a complete ass out of myself.

"I've noticed a little pain in my breasts," I answered quietly, thinking of the times that Paul and I had made love and his attention to my nipples had raised whimpers from me that didn't have anything to do with feeling good...those hadn't been easy times for my wolf man to get through. "As for the weight gain...I'd say that it's a safe bet to mention that I'm definitely...puffier...than usual."

That comment earned me a smile, paired with a shaking of his head, kind of in that "oh, come on now" sort of chastisement that is the main reason girls fish for compliments from gorgeous men...so that they can deny the fact that we look hideously fat...it's really kind of sad, isn't it? It should have made me feel better, the fact that he was engaging me in a little playful banter, but I couldn't stop thinking of what I'd said and how I'd said it, and I trained my eyes on the floor, doing my best not to give into the rollercoaster of emotions that was encouraging me to give into the need to have a good cry.

"There are several things that I pride myself on Lilah," he said, stepping across the tiny space to stand in front of me, but I refused to look at him. "I believe that I am a loving husband and father, that I am a caring, compassionate and competent physician, and that I am patient and understanding. Am I mistaken in those beliefs?"

I shook my head and continued to stare at the floor, thinking to myself that he'd pretty well described himself to a tee, except that he'd forgotten that he was gorgeous and had the ability to make women's mouths water profusely, but then, that kind of conceited statement would have never come out of his mouth, would it?

"I also consider myself to be a good judge of character, and I know you very well, Lilah."

That made me look at him, just for a moment, wondering what he could mean by that statement. Truthfully, he and I were nearly strangers, but when I thought about it, he did look at me in a way that suggested that we had a connection. Nothing romantic, of course, no matter what my silly fantasies of him might have been, but rather like he understood me the way that Paul did, at the same time that it was nothing like the way that Paul understood me...it was all so weird.

"You're so worried about so many things right now, and most, if not all of these concerns don't warrant this much anxiety. You think that you have behaved abominably, unforgivably to me, and while I must admit that I am unaccustomed to being spoken to in such a fashion by my patients, I am not so thin-skinned to be wounded for the rest of my life, and I'm not so easily offended that I will feel the need to hold a grudge. The hormones that are coursing through your body at this moment are enough to make anyone lash out, and that, paired with what I deduce must have been shocking news, would be enough to make anyone snap, especially a woman who's rather renowned for having a quick temper."

I raised my head quickly and found him smiling at me, a grin that was both teasing and understanding, comforting some of the guilt that I'd been wrestling with. "Carlisle, I'm so sorry," I began, but was stopped by him holding his hand in the air and shaking his head.

"There's no need for you to apologize," he interrupted. "The only reason I even mentioned it was so I could tell you that all is forgiven and forgotten. The other concern that is tying you up into knots is that Paul will be displeased about the news of this child, am I right?"

I nodded, thinking about the old saying of that it took two to tango, and Paul and I had both danced numerous times without any protection knowingly and willingly, but what would he say when he found out that I was knocked up? I knew enough of his past to know that he'd been as far away from being either committed or responsible as a person could be, so why should that change now? Did the whole imprinting thing change a person that much?

"I believe that a man in love, truly in love, thinks of the future, of a wife and a home filled with children, and he is definitely a man who is in love with you, Lilah. You can practically see that future in his eyes each and every time that he looks at you, and I wouldn't be surprised if this child is just the first of many to come...so stop worrying, okay?"

I took a deep breath and nodded my head, smiling when he tweaked the end of my nose before turning to open the curtain and call for his nurse, Louise. From the sound of it I was in for an afternoon of fun, peeing into cups and having needles jabbed into my arms, followed by having to explain everything to Paul. I could only hope that Dr. Cullen was right in what he saw between me and my wolf man, because the more I thought about this baby, the more I wanted it, and it would be the hardest thing I'd ever had to do if I was forced to make a choice between them, but I would, if I had to.

Paul's POV

I was sitting on the hood of my car, waiting outside of the paleface hospital for Lilah, turning the key to my future over and over in my hand, studying it intently, taking notice of each and every flaw, wondering what her response to such a life changing question would be. Damn...I hadn't even met her parents, all I knew about them was what their names were and that her dad was a skin, one of those plains tribes, though I couldn't remember which one. I felt like I should ask him for permission first, I knew that was the custom, but I figured that a snowball in Hell would have better odds of staying frozen than I would have of getting a yes from her Pops, so you could bet your ass that I wasn't inclined to waste my time on that one.

Why had I picked the one with the pearl sitting where the diamond ought to be? At least it was a real pearl, a freshwater one, and the band was real white gold, not some cheap crap that would leave an ugly green ring around her finger. The truth was that I had picked the pearl because the tiny diamond clusters on each side of the pearl looked like little butterflies, circling a snow-white orb, a bunch of sappy, romantic fluff, and I knew that she liked butterflies...geez...I guess I was just a lovesick douche, wasn't I?

Things had been so out of whack lately, what with Jacob running off and the object of his heart's desire entwining herself in unholy matrimony with her leech, then Jacob returned, and became even more of a pain in everyone's ass than he'd been before, and topping all of that off, Lilah had gotten sick, and not just a case of the sniffles, but honest to goodness wretchedly sick. I had worried and fussed over her for what seemed like forever to get her to go to the doctor and once she finally gave in she went and insisted on seeing the bloodsucking doctor, the one who made her all goggle-eyed every time he was around. I could have been a jealous dickhead and threw a fit about her conditions on making herself well, but I was desperate at that point and would have agreed to anything, just as long as she got well again.

The sudden movement of someone entering the parking lot drew my attention, and when I saw that it was Lilah I hurriedly shoved the ring back into my pocket. I'd wanted to accompany her on her appointment, it had been absolutely hellish to be away from her, knowing that she needed me, but Sam had called a meeting, and as always, the pack came first. My irritation at not being able to be with her quickly turned to fear when I saw her face, when I saw how shaky and pale she looked as she moved slowly toward me. Oh crap...how sick was she really? She looked like she was a couple of steps away from death at that moment, and my heart sank, then started that sluggish, heavy thrumming that accompanied real dread, when you just knew that horrible news was coming your way.

It was unthinkable that she had only recently entered my life, hell, she was my freakin' life, but despite that I was in danger of losing her already. What kind of bullshit deal was that anyway? I knew that I'd always been a bastard, a thoughtless jackass who spent most of my time being pissed off and sarcastic when I wasn't whoring my way around town, but dammit...I had changed...drastically so. That had to count for something, didn't it?

Her eyes met, and locked, with mine, and once more I received an unwelcome shock to my system when I saw the fear that was staring back at me, fear mixed with uncertainty and anxiety. Ah hell...it was even worse than I'd originally thought if she was scared by the prospect of telling me the news. I made up my mind then and there. I had to ask her before she told me what she had learned, because if I waited until later she might think that I was proposing out of guilt.

I jumped down off of the hood of my car and rushed over to where she stood, grabbing hold of her and taking her into my arms, holding her like it was for the last time, only loosening my grip when I heard the bones in her back snap and her tiny exclamation of pain. I mumbled an apology that was no doubt unintelligible, and then quickly released her, dropping down to one knee, holding tight to her hand.

"I've been thinking about what I was going to say when this moment came, I thought that maybe I should recite a poem, but I don't know any poems. I know a few limericks, but nothing that would suit this occasion, not by a long shot. Then I thought that I should tell you that you're my reason for living, that you're the reason that my heart keeps on beating, wimpy greeting card stuff like that, but you already know all of that, don't you? I guess that I could make promises to you, in exchange for a yes, I could swear that I'll always be faithful, or that I'll never stop loving you, that I'll never hurt you or abandon you, but again, I'd be telling you things that you already know, so that can't be the way to go."

She didn't say anything, she just stared down at me with the oddest expression on her face, her eyes growing almost comically big when I pulled the ring out of my pocket and slid it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. "Please say yes, sweetheart," I whispered. "I promise that you'll never be sorry that you did."

I waited for her to smile, possibly even to cry, with happiness, of course, and most of all I waited to hear a yes, but there was nothing. It was one of those moments where you would have heard the brief chirping of crickets, had you been watching a movie, and I started to think that I'd really screwed up, and then her lip started trembling, and her eyes started to well with tears, but not the happy ones I wouldn't have minded seeing...these were tears that said that she was upset...dammit.

"I wanted to be the one to tell you," she whispered, her voice growing husky, the way it always did when she got emotional, and again I found myself battling fear, imagining the worst. "And I don't want you to think that I expect you to marry me. I want you to ask me to be your wife for the right reason, not because you feel an obligation."

My fear was swiftly turning into anger, an emotion that I fought against, not wanting to give it any authority. "First of all, no one's told me anything sweetheart. Whatever news that you wanted to tell me will be coming straight from your lips, not secondhand. And another thing, I'm not asking out of any other obligation but the one that insists that I have to make myself one with my life mate. I can't think of a better reason to have you for my wife, you know. It's not like I'm ever going to want anyone else...you kind of ruined me on wanting any other woman."

At least that earned me a smile, a wobbly one complete with trembling lips, but a smile just the same. "There's something that you need to know before I answer you," she said, reaching out to take hold of my hand, pulling me up onto my feet. "Then you can decide whether or not you want to take the question back."

Again my temper fired up, and again I tamped it down. "I already know that I won't take it back," I said, fighting to keep the irritation out of my voice. "But go ahead and tell me what it is that's bothering you so bad."

She took my hand and placed it on her tummy, staring deep into my eyes, giving me the impression that she was looking into me, rather than at me. "April the sixth," she whispered, throwing me completely for a loop. "That's when this little one will be making his or her arrival."

I'd never been the smartest guy in the world, and I was upset and scared and just a little pissed off, so it took me a few minutes to figure out what she meant. I stared at her, totally in shock, then I noticed that my face was hurting, because of my huge smile, and I grabbed hold of her as gently as I was capable of at that moment, swinging her around and 'round until I remembered that she tended to puke a lot lately, and I slowly lowered her to the ground, kissing her all over her face until she was laughing, those tears in her eyes the happy kind, the ones that didn't hurt me the way that the others did.

"Say it again," I asked, almost begging. "Tell me that I'm going to be a dad."

"You're going to be a daddy, Paul," she said softly, her eyes glowing happily, just the way I liked them to do. "The very best daddy."

I could feel the prickling of tears in my own eyes and shook my head against them. I didn't cry...that just wasn't going to happen...so I smiled instead, then remembered the ring on her finger and the question that she still hadn't answered.

"Well?" I asked, grabbing hold of her hand, linking her fingers with mine.

She smiled at me and rolled her eyes, leaning forward to kiss me. "Of course I will," she answered, and there it was again, the damned tears in my eyes, only this time they wouldn't be chased away, no matter how much I smiled.

Oh, well...I guess it was alright to cry sometimes...just so long as it didn't become a habit, you know?