That should have comforted him, but it didn’t. All it did was make him want to figure out what the hell had her acting this way. Before he could pry even more, the nurse opened the door.
“Tachina Winston?”
Tachina raised her hand and stood from her seat. She grabbed her purse and swung it over her shoulder. He rose behind her.
“Do you want me to come with you?” He braced for rejection.
She looked over at him and jerked her head in a short nod. “If you want to.”
If he wanted to? If? His chest tightened sharply. Something was terribly wrong.
Yes, dammit. I want to.
They followed the nurse down a hallway into an exam room filled with soft lighting and the faint scent of disinfectant. Posters of fetal development lined the wall, and beside the exam table stood a machine with cables, a monitor, and a rolling stool beside it.
Vic stared at the equipment that looked as if it were from a sci-fi movie. All of this was foreign to him. He had wanted to be a part of everything this time around and he was certainly jumping in headfirst.He sat in one of the chairs while the nurse took Tachina’s blood pressure and checked her weight. She handed Tachina a gown and instructed her to change.
“The doctor will be in shortly, Ms. Winston. Have a great day.” The woman scurried out of the room and shut the door behind her.
Tachina walked around the curtain and began changing. The rustling of fabric was the only sound.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
“I feel as if I’ve done something wrong,” he announced. “We’ve barely spoken since yesterday morning. You’ve barely looked at me today. What is going on?”
The movement behind the curtain paused.
“You haven’t done anything wrong, Victor,” she answered.
He jerked back as if she’d physically hit him. She’s never called him Victor. He ran a hand across his face.
“That’s not how it feels.”
She emerged from behind the curtain with her clothing in her hands. She folded them neatly and placed them down on the empty chair next to him. She turned and climbed up on the exam table covered in white paper. She sat upright then turned her eyes to him.
“Are you embarrassed of me?”
Of all the things she could have asked, he would have never predicted this question. His mouth parted, but no words came out.
“What?” he breathed.
“It’s a simple question,” she said quietly. “Are you ashamed of the way I grew up? Where I come from?”
The room tilted slightly for him. What the hell kind of question was this?
“What? No. Why would you?—?”
“I just want to know,” she said, calm.
“God, no. That’s never crossed my mind.”
She had to know that. He’d never once cared that they were from two different worlds. Her background made her the woman she was today.
“So then why haven’t you wanted to publicly acknowledge that I’m the mother of your child?”
It felt as if the world had frozen over. Or time had stilled. He tried to drag in a deep breath. Right now it felt as if a trapdoor had dropped out beneath him.
Years ago, things between them had been complicated. They were trying to figure out the situation they had found themselves in while he was trying to keep his personal life from detonating under scrutiny. They had agreed not to publicize anything. She’d agreed. They both had.