Which was why I hadn’t wanted to tell him about my heart in the first place.

I hated being treated differently, but things were worse now. I wasn’t just a sick girl to him; I was also the girl who was hanging on by a thread. Did he not get that I was alive because I refused to give in to the restrictions of my heart condition? I had been a fighter since the day I was born. I wasn’t about to stop now.

I wanted my Grant back. The man who couldn’t keep his hands off me. The man who I knew wanted me above all things and made me feel desired. Not the man who acted like it was his one goal in life to keep me alive. That was not what I wanted at all.

“You OK?” His concerned voice only fueled my frustration.

I shrugged, because I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would yell at him. I loved him, and I was happy to be with him, so I didn’t want to yell at him. But I wasn’t sure I could keep from doing just that if he kept this up.

“You’re frowning like something’s bothering you,” he pointed out.

Something was bothering me, but I wasn’t going to share that with him. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from growling in frustration and turned to look out the plane window. We were close to Destin, Florida, now. I could see the ocean.

“Harlow.” His voice was gentle. “Look at me, please.”

I hated it when I tried to be firm and he went all sweet. It was hard to ignore a sweet Grant Carter. Giving in, I glanced over at him. His forehead was creased in a frown, and his eyes looked full of worry. “I’m not breakable. I’m still me. You’re treating me differently,” I said, hating the way my voice cracked, which only made me seem more vulnerable. I was trying to convince this man that I was tough.

Grant stood up from the seat across from me and moved to the leather sofa beside me, pulling me into his arms. He let out a weary sigh and kissed the top of my head. I had expected him to immediately deny that he had been treating me differently, but he wasn’t doing that. At least he was aware of it.

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to deal with this right now. All I can think about is keeping you safe.”

“I’ve been taking care of myself all my life. I’m not fragile. I want to be treated like . . . like how you treated me before.” I couldn’t make myself say I wanted him to want me. That just sounded pathetic.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” he replied.

I hadn’t realized that just a few words could be so heartbreaking.

“Give me time. After we talk to the doctor, I’ll feel like I have some control over this. I can’t just disregard your health because I want you. Don’t doubt for a moment that all I can think about is stripping you down and making love to you over and over again. Hearing you pant and cry out. I crave that, baby. But you’re my world. I protect what’s mine.”

How could I argue with that? I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. We were going to get through this. He was here with me, and he wasn’t running scared. He wanted me safe, and I couldn’t be mad about that. Grant had his fears. I had to respect those and give him time. “I missed you,” I said against his chest, although he already knew that. I wanted to tell him again.

“I missed you more. Every damn second I missed you,” he said as his lips hovered close to my ear. The warmth from his breath caused me to shiver.

We sat there in each other’s arms for the rest of the flight. We didn’t talk, because we didn’t need to. Just being together was enough. My eyes began to grow heavy, and I closed them, knowing that when I woke up, he’d be there.

As we walked into the doctor’s office in Destin, Grant was holding my hand. This time, when I saw the other pregnant women in the waiting room with their husbands, I didn’t feel a sense of loss or sadness. Grant was with me, hovering over me in all his possessive, protective glory, as if he needed to fight off an attack of some sort. He was adorable.

“Go sit down, and I’ll get the paperwork to fill out,” he said gently as he pointed to the empty chairs across the room.

I didn’t argue with him, because I was beginning to realize he needed to do this. It made him feel safer if he was taking care of me. Even if I could get my own paperwork. I walked over to my seat and noticed that the eyes of several other females in the room were all directed toward Grant. Of course they were. He stood out. His low voice as he spoke to the lady at the check-in desk was enough to catch anyone’s attention. But the view of his backside in those jeans was also very hard to look away from. The lady closest to him sat up straighter and crossed her legs. She also adjusted her bra, pushing her boobs up so that her cle**age was hard to miss. A flash of anger shot through me, and I felt my face get hot. I glared at her as she kept her attention completely trained on Grant. She flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and tugged her skirt up just a little so more of her thigh was showing. What the hell?

Grant turned around with the clipboard, and his gaze instantly found mine. For a moment, I felt better. Then the blonde’s voice stopped him.

“Grant Carter?” she cooed in a sultry voice that couldn’t have been her real voice. Grant stopped and glanced back at the woman who had fixed herself up for his attention. He paused and then smiled. My stomach felt sick.

“Melody?” he replied, as if he wasn’t sure if that was her name or not.

She beamed up at him like he had said the most wonderful thing in the world. I was officially nauseated. And I was jealous. Completely jealous. Because he was smiling at her. “What are you doing here? Never expected to see Grant Carter at my gyno’s office.” As if she hadn’t seen him walk in with me.

Grant turned to me, and his grin grew. “I’m here with my . . .” He paused. It was only a brief pause, but in that moment, it felt like he had sliced me with a knife. He didn’t even know what I was to him. He hadn’t thought about it. “Girlfriend,” he finished, before winking at me and turning back to Blondie with the big boobs.

Blondie barely glanced my way, and then she did a double take. When I walked next to Grant in a room full of women, no one paid attention to me, so I hadn’t been recognized. I hated that my face was so well known now.

“Is that . . . oh, my God, it is,” she said in a surprised voice.

Grant moved fast. He was in front of me, taking my hand and pulling me up against him in seconds, moving me toward the door leading out of the waiting room. “She needs privacy,” he informed the lady at the desk, and she seemed to understand completely and nodded as he closed the door behind us.

A nurse met us in the empty hallway. “This way,” she said as she opened a door to an exam room and waved for us to go inside. “Have Miss Manning fill out the paperwork, and I’ll be back shortly to get it.” I was a little dizzy from how quickly that had happened. Grant had moved fast. He hadn’t taken time to say good-bye to Melody or make any explanations.

“Sorry. I should have known she’d recognize you. She’s the fangirl sort. I brought her around Rush once, and she acted like an idiot,” Grant said, looking frustrated.

“So you dated her?” I asked, unable to help the jealous tone in my voice. I normally wasn’t so transparent with my emotions, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

Grant frowned, and then a small smile tugged on the corners of his lips. He closed the space between us and backed me up against the exam table as he towered over me, looking extremely pleased. “Yeah, I dated her a few times years ago. You jealous, sweet girl?” he asked with a sugary, warm drawl.

I could have lied, but instead, I shrugged. I would try for nonchalance.

Grant threw his head back and laughed before caging me in with both of his arms as he leaned down over me. “Oh, no, you don’t get to do that. I am enjoying this moment. I like that you got jealous of me. Not that you have anything to be jealous of ever, but I like it. I’m yours, baby, but knowing you want me makes it pretty damn sweet.”

I tried to frown, but a giggle escaped.

Grant

“We’ll need to take this one step at a time. Harlow has been made aware of the risks. I see women with her condition deliver babies several times a year. But then, I also see other things happen. While maternal mortality has decreased in the last decade, that’s still our number one concern here. Then there’s the possibility that the fetus won’t make it past the first trimester. A spontaneous abortion or miscarriage could occur, which we can’t control—it happens even in normal pregnancies. But it could cause complications. Alternatively, the baby could come early. And if the birth is successful, the baby could inherit Harlow’s condition.”

The doctor was talking, and I was hearing him, but I was losing focus. The term “maternal mortality” had seized my lungs and caused my heart to slam against my rib cage. I couldn’t accept those two words. Ever.

The doctor directed his next words at Harlow. “Weekly visits are a must. I have to monitor your heart rate, and as we progress, we will need to keep an eye on the fetus as it matures.”

Fucking complications. I hated this. I f**king hated it, knowing that Harlow was facing these dangers because I didn’t use a damn condom a couple of times. This was my fault. If I lost her, it would all be on me. I did this to her. I put that . . . that baby in there that she was so determined to protect. That she loved.

I loved her. I loved her so damn much.

“I went over your records this morning as soon as the fax came in. I’m pleased to say that you’re in much better health than most women with this condition. You had successful surgeries as a child, and you have been healthy. No problems or issues. You are high-risk, but all the signs tell me we can do this. You’re a fighter. That much is obvious, from what I’ve seen.” The doctor looked from Harlow to me. “And she will need support. She doesn’t need negativity. She needs a team. You are the most important part of that team.”

I swallowed against the tight grip my fear had on my throat. I needed her. Fuck this. I needed her to live. To be safe. I managed a nod. It was the best I could do.

“Hypertension is a major concern at this point. Her blood pressure should be checked morning and night. She needs to get moderate exercise. Maybe stroll down the beach for a mile but no more than that. Swimming is also good. If you have a pool, that would be ideal. Just something easy. Resting throughout the day and elevating her feet are important. She will need someone there to remind her and make sure she does this.”

I nodded again. If persuading Harlow to end this pregnancy was impossible, then I intended to make sure she did all of this. If I had to quit my damn job, I would.

“Around the eighteenth week of pregnancy, we will do a fetal echocardiogram to check and see if the baby has indeed inherited the condition. We need to know this before delivery. It could save the baby’s life.” The doctor glanced down at his clipboard, then back up, looking first at Harlow and then at me. “I’ve arranged for Harlow to meet with a cardiologist biweekly. I’ve sent him her records, and we will meet to discuss Harlow before her first visit next week. It is a key factor in making this a successful pregnancy.”

Harlow nodded beside me, and then her small hand slipped into mine and squeezed. She needed my reassurance, and I was standing here trying to deal with my own fear. I wasn’t considering the fear that she had to be feeling. Yet she was still determined to do this.

“Be aware that you are in the high-risk category, but there are different levels within that. From what we can determine at this point, you’re on the lower end of the scale. That’s a good thing. A very good thing,” he said, and Harlow’s hand squeezed mine again. “As for intercourse, it’s allowed. However, her heart is working overtime right now. Nothing too intense.” He looked at me.

“But we can have, uh, sex? Right? Just nothing too, um, creative?”

The doctor bit back a grin in response to Harlow’s timid question. After clearing his throat, he nodded. “Yes. Normal activity is fine. If you follow the other instructions I gave you, then there should no problem. Pregnancy normally requires more than average activity,” he replied as he moved his gaze back to me. “Now, I’ll see you next week after your visit with Dr. Nelson. He will fax over your results from the visit, and we will move on from there.”

Harlow nodded and stood up, still holding my hand. “Thank you,” she said with such sincerity it broke my heart. She wanted this so bad. How was I supposed to oppose it? How was I supposed to convince her not to do it when she wanted it so desperately? “Let’s go,” she said, looking up at me.

“Thanks,” I told the doctor, and walked with Harlow to the door.

A nurse met us in the hallway. “We have a back exit to take you through. That way, Miss Manning doesn’t have to deal with the crowd in the waiting room.”

The way she said “crowd” snapped me out of my emotional haze. What crowd?

“There have been a few arrivals since you got here. We’ve called the police. It should be cleared up soon,” the nurse explained.

Shit. Damn Melody. Had she alerted the f**king media?

“I’m so sorry,” Harlow said. I turned my attention to her and saw the horrified look on her face. Dammit. Why hadn’t I been better prepared to keep her safe from this?

“Nothing to be sorry for, Miss Manning. We should have brought you in through the back. That was our mistake. From now on, you can enter through this door, and we will send you directly to an exam room. You can have your privacy then.”

“Thank you,” Harlow muttered, but I didn’t miss the frustrated sound in her voice. She didn’t like the attention, and she had flown under the radar for so long. This thing with her parents had taken her privacy away from her.