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The baby! Is he okay?
"You could tell?" Isabella asked with a smile.
"The image was as clear as a bell today," he nodded indulgently.
"No," Justin suddenly shook his head. "I'd rather not know."
"But Justin..." she turned to him in surprise but he refused to meet her eyes. "Why don't you want to know?"
"It makes no difference..." nothing he could have said would have hurt her more and she immediately retreated back behind her shell, withdrawing her hand from his. Of course it didn't make a difference, if it was a boy he would leave without getting to know the child and if it was a girl he would be stuck in his unwanted marriage for even longer. He groaned when he saw her expression and immediately grabbed up her hand again. "I really didn't mean it the way you obviously think I did, Isabella."
"It's okay," she informed the doctor, who looked heartily uncomfortable to be witnessing their dispute. "I don't have to know." Not when she was one hundred per cent certain that it was a boy anyway. The doctor nodded and cleared his throat.
"Very well then, my lips are sealed," he nodded, trying to maintain his jovial manner, even though he was still uncomfortable. Justin said nothing, keeping his eyes on Isabella's determinedly averted face. The doctor added a few more of his usual cautions that she not overtax herself before he dismissed them with a hearty goodbye.
"Just let me explain," Justin said the moment they were outside the clinic. It was raining and Isabella hurriedly raised the hood of her coat over her head before scurrying for her car. He followed her even though she was still quite obviously ignoring him and keeping her back to him.
She fumbled for her car keys in her large bag and he groaned in frustration before dropping his hands onto her narrow shoulders to turn her around. Her face was wet and he sighed deeply as he wiped at the moisture, which could have been tears or rain.
"I'm sorry," he frowned, lowering his head so that she could hear him over the clamour of cars driving by and the freezing rain. "Isabella, that didn't come out right. It didn't mean what you thought it did."
"Why does it matter what I think?" She finally asked bitterly.
"It matters," his large hands cupped her face and his forehead lowered to hers. "It matters very much, Isabella."
"No," she shook her head slightly. "It doesn't." She put her hands to his broad chest wanting to push him away but the rain had soaked through his white shirt plastering it to his skin and turning it so transparent that he may as well have been naked, so instead of pushing, her hands stroked and petted and he moaned hungrily before touching his lips to hers.
