(Book 2) This Could B Us

Part 18

We both look at each other, but neither of us say anything.

He looks stunned, I feel guilty.

"Did you know?" he asks.

"No, not that I was pregnant. It didn't occur to me until I saw all the blood."

"Blood?"

"Yeah, my pants..."

"Hold on, Sugar," he leaps up, "I'll be right back," he starts to leave, sees my bewildered face, he comes back to kiss my forehead, then he's gone.

Not two minutes later he's back, he sits, taking my hand again, "I sent Marcus to the house to get you a change of clothes."

"Prince, I'm so sorry," I look away.

"Hey," he pulls my chin back with his finger, "what do you have to be sorry about? It's not your fault.."

I start to cry. He stands, pulling my head to his chest, stroking my hair.

"It is my fault," I sob, "I was stupid, irresponsible."

He lifts my head so he can gaze down at me, he's shaking his head, "It's my fault, too, then. I assumed you were on the pill."

"I was, I am," I frown, "I had to have missed days with everything that was going on, because I shouldn't ..."

He presses a finger against my lips, "You will not blame yourself, okay? I'm just as much at fault for you," he pauses, "getting pregnant," the last words are a whisper.

We look at each other.

"Just take me home, please," I beg.

"I will," he pulls me tight again.

A nurse comes in with papers for me to sign, Prince leaves to see if Marcus has returned with a change of clothes. I let nurse know that I'm new to the area, and she recommends a couple OB/GYNs for me.

The nurse is just placing a band aid after removing the I.V. when Prince returns carrying a bag. She leans in giving me a hug, "Everything will be alright," she whispers, then excuses herself, pulling the curtain closed behind her.

I move slowly, I know they haven't given me anything for pain, but I feel detached. Prince watches me for a minute as I get to my feet and test myself for stability. I reach around behind to undo the ties on the hospital gown, and he's there, pulling them free, he kisses my shoulder.

I point to a bag on a chair on the other side of the bed, "I need my bra."

The bag he brought is already on the bed, he fetches the other bag. As he opens it, reaching in, he stops, taking a surprised breath. His eyes big, he looks at me, his face is a mixture of emotions, I look away before I cry. In seconds, he's in front of me, he hands me my bra. As I put it on and hook it, he's pulled a dress out of the bag Marcus has brought and he has it ready to slip over my head.

The dress falls into place, and we look at my bare feet, "I don't even care, just get me out of here," I whisper.

He nods, as he pulls the curtain back, the nurse is waiting with a wheel chair, "I need you to pull your vehicle around, Sir."

Prince nods, walks over to me cupping my face in his hands, "I'll be waiting for you outside, Sugar," a peck on the forehead, he grabs the two bags and strides towards the exit.

I'm grateful the patient pick up is nowhere near where other people will see me. As I approach the exit, I see the standard black SUV.  Kirk is standing there beside Prince and the open door, I feel a twinge of disappointment that it's not Marcus.

They both try to help me into the SUV, it takes everything I have, but I manage with little assistance, they exchange looks of frustration. I'm a horrible patient, and I make it obvious. Once Prince sits, I lay down putting my head down on his lap like he has done with me, he strokes my face until we get home.

I sit up slowly, my head is throbbing, I allow Prince to help me out, but I loathe for anyone else to touch me right now. As we're making our way up the steps, Prince calls back to Kirk, "I'll call you later."

Once inside he steers me to the elevator, "You need to get to bed, or do you want something to eat first?"

"I need a shower before anything," I just feel gross.

"Shower, it is," we head to the bathroom.

Prince adjusts the water, then turns his attention to me. I've already pulled the dress over my head and I'm reaching to unsnap my bra, I'm already pantyless because they were ruined. He silently begins to strip naked, never taking his eyes off me. He pulls my hair into a messy bun, being careful of the tender area. Then, taking my hand, I'm pulled under the spray of the water.

He is more loving and gentle than he's ever been. Running the soapy sponge over my skin, he peppers little soothing kisses after the water rinses away the suds. As he gets to my more intimate areas, he watches me for reactions, "Does this hurt at all?"

"No, the pain isn't physical," which is true, other than my aching head.

He kisses my belly, I look away, I want to die knowing this is affecting him, too. I touch his shoulder and shake my head, he returns to standing. Taking the handheld shower head, he runs the spray over me one more time before turning the water off. As I reach for a towel, he stops me, he wants to take care of me, so I allow it.

Both of us naked, we go into my closet. He selects a sapphire blue nightie from the drawer, raising my arms, he slips it over my head. The silk glides down over my body, but it doesn't have the same effect it did last night. Even with all the concern and sadness, I see his eyes skim over me as I stand there. He likes the nightie on me, a split second of desire lights in his eyes.

As odd as it seems, part of me wants to make love, to feel the closeness of that connection, but we can't .

He pauses to get dressed before leading me to the bed. We climb in and he cuddles tight. The stress my body has endured today causes me to drift off almost immediately.