Four
The procedure took less than six hours. Without hesitation, Will neatly rolled up his shirt sleeve and stretched out on a gurney in a sterile room beside the NICU. Casually crossing his ankles, he didn’t even flinch when the nurse inserted a needle into his arm. Restless, Julianne had paced the room while Will stoically watched the blood flow from his body into the collection bag. Twice Julianne attempted to speak to him, but both times he’d held up a large paw to silence her. He’d been doing that all day, much to Julianne’s aggravation.
Not that he didn’t have every right to be angry with her, he did. But Julianne was a talker. The anxiety she felt for Owen made her more chatty than usual. If she could just clear the air with Will rather than be subjected to the silent treatment, she’d feel better. Less guilty. She’d explain everything. Well, maybe not everything. Because if she explained everything, she’d have to say she was sorry. And even though she was very sorry, she wasn’t about to give him more power over her and Owen. Instead, she bit her lip. It was better than staring at the palm of his hand in her face.
When they’d extracted and processed what looked to Julianne like a ridiculously large amount of blood, the nurse brought Owen and his incubator into the room. Unlike his father, the baby was not as easygoing during the transfusion process. Owen howled as Dr. Ling and the nurses poked his tiny arms and feet with needles. Julianne stood to the side, tears streaming down her face, wishing she could somehow absorb her son’s pain. It was only after the procedure was over that she realized Will stood beside her the entire time, his annoyingly patronizing hand rubbing her back as she cried.
All that was left now was the waiting. Dr. Ling had explained that it would take a couple of hours before she knew if Owen’s body would accept the antibodies in Will’s blood, but the doctor was optimistic the procedure would be successful. In nearly all cases, one of the parents’ blood proteins was a match. Julianne felt that familiar stab of pain that her blood hadn’t been good enough to save her child. Once again, she’d had to rely on someone else.
She’d lost all track of actual time. The last shift change was several hours ago, so she assumed it was late evening, although it was hard to tell inside the hospital. Sebastian was at dinner with friends. Carly had left, too. She’d gone home to her new family. The knife twisted in Julianne’s gut again. Owen was supposed to be her family. And if the blood disorder didn’t take him from her, the behemoth pretending to sleep on the sofa would certainly try.
She glanced over at Will stretched out on the love seat, his long legs protruding into the center of the room. Either he was a very heavy sleeper or the champ at playing possum because he hadn’t so much as moved since he’d closed his eyes an hour ago. Both hands lay across his midsection, and his muscled abdomen rose slightly as he breathed. He looked less forbidding with his eyes closed, his long lashes resting against his cheeks. In this state, he seemed almost approachable. More human. When he was awake, Will resembled a Norse god, his intense eyes, square jaw, and massive shoulders intimidating. All that was missing was the horned helmet.
His jacket and tie lay folded neatly on the back of one of the chairs. Childishly, she wanted to walk over and rumple them up to see how he’d react. He’d been annoyingly cool and unflappable all day, in complete control as if he’d come from his Viking ship to rescue her. Except he hadn’t come to save her; he’d come for their son. Given the opportunity, she figured he’d toss her overboard without a backward glance.
Dr. Ling pushed through the curtain, her rubber-soled shoes squeaking on the tile floor. Will’s eyes shot open.
“Good news!” Dr. Ling smiled widely at them both. “Owen’s body is thriving with the new blood cells. In fact, he’s even generating blood proteins of his own already, which tells us he’s going to make a complete recovery.”
Julianne’s hands were shaking as she pressed a finger to the cross beneath her shirt and whispered a prayer. Tears were streaming down her face as she reached out and hugged Dr. Ling. “Thank you! Thank you so much for saving Owen.”
“Don’t thank me.” The doctor laughed. “It was his dad’s blood that did the trick.” She pulled a sheet of paper out of the metal chart case she carried. “And this makes it official. The DNA test is positive. You’re Owen’s father.”
Will’s face was impassive as Dr. Ling handed him the results. Without looking at it, he folded the paper up and placed it in his shirt pocket. “How long until he can be released?”
The question sent a shiver of unease up her spine.
“He’ll need to stay in the NICU for several more days, just to be sure his body functions return to normal. Once he has the all-clear from the various specialists, then he can go home.” The doctor looked at each of them, clearly wondering who would be taking Owen home. “I’ll leave you two to sort everything out. I’ll stay a few more hours to keep an eye on things, and I’ll update you after his morning blood work.”
Dr. Ling seemed unfazed by the unorthodox relationship between her patient’s parents. Of course, she worked in a hospital, so it was likely she’d seen all sorts of awkward family situations. Nonetheless, Julianne was still embarrassed. She looked over at Will, who had buttoned his cuffs and was pulling on his suit jacket. When his hands were occupied draping his tie over his shoulders, she jumped on the chance to speak.
“Thank you.” The words fell soft and hollow, almost as if she’d dropped them down a well. Clearly, they were inadequate, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Thanks for saving my son.”
He paused with the tie in midair behind his neck. “What did you say?”
Julianne swallowed. The look in his eyes made her want to run, but she stood her ground. She deserved his derision and his anger. Owen had been through so much and now he was going to live, thanks to the man towering in front of her. She owed him his pound of flesh. She just hoped she’d still be standing when he was done with her.
Will dropped the tie and stalked toward her. Julianne pushed her shoulders up, determined to force her body, and her soul, to withstand whatever he planned to dish out.
“Owen is not your son.” He tapped his chest where the paternity test results were tucked away. “This little piece of paper says I have just as much right to him as you do. He’s my son, too.”
This was the part where he whipped out his Viking sword and ripped out her heart. Blinking back tears, she forced her question through dry lips. “How exactly are you going to exert those rights?”
“Princess, we’ve just teed up the ball for the kickoff. This game has barely started. But the first thing we will be doing is getting Owen’s birth certificate amended so my name is on there.”
“Your name is on it!” Sort of.
Will arched an eyebrow at her as he pulled his iPhone from his pocket. He scrolled through it before reading aloud. “Owen Connelly Marchione. Nice touch with the middle name.” The insincerity of his tone belied his words. “Mother, Julianne Valerie Marchione. Father, unknown.”
Obviously his agent had been busy while Will was giving blood. Julianne stared at him. There were no words she could offer. No explanation that he’d accept for not listing him as Owen’s father. At least none that she could justify.
“No child of mine is growing up a bastard!” His shout reverberated off the walls in the small room. Julianne cringed as she imagined that the entire hospital heard him.
“Okay,” she whispered. There was no other answer she could give. She’d never meant to deny either Will or Owen. She just hadn’t thought the whole thing through. But explaining that to him right now seemed like a moot point.
He raked his hand through his hair, mussing up his perfect appearance. “Get your things. I’ll take you home.”
“My home is in Italy.” Technically, she had a place in New York, but it belonged to the company she no longer owned, so she didn’t feel she had to mention it.
“Fine, I’ll take you to your brother’s place. I assume he lives here in D.C.?”
He did, but she wasn’t going there, either. “I’m not leaving Owen.” She crossed her arms in front of her. If he wanted her to leave her son, he’d have to drag her out. Julianne shivered as she mentally pictured him doing just that.
Will blew out a breath as if he were counting to ten. “You need to get some rest and you won’t get that here. We’ve got a lot of things to work out, and I’d appreciate it if you came to the discussion with a clear head.”
“I don’t need you to take care of me.” She was being churlish, she knew, but it irked her that he thought he could control her life now that he knew he was Owen’s father.
“What you need, Princess, is a keeper!”
Before Julianne could open her mouth to protest, Carly and Shane Devlin stepped in front of the partition.
“Connelly.” Shane’s hand wrapped around Will’s bicep, pulling him back from Julianne. “Keep it down unless you want to read about this on TMZ tomorrow.”
Will jerked out of Shane’s grasp, shooting him a malicious glare.
“Don’t get all pissy with me.” Shane went nose to nose with Will. “I didn’t know anything about this until a couple of hours ago.”
Will looked over at Carly, who just gave him an empathetic shrug, which irritated not only Julianne, but Shane as well. “My wife didn’t know you were the father, either. Not until this morning. So watch yourself with her or you’ll answer to me.”
When Will’s eyes met Julianne’s, she held his stare for a moment. Something flashed in them that she couldn’t make out—anguish, she thought—before they were hard emeralds again.
“Make sure she gets some rest, will you, Carly?” Then he disappeared through the curtain, his long stride echoing down the corridor.
Julianne wanted to chase him down. She wanted to rail at him, to scratch his eyes out. Anything to wipe that smug look off his face.
But most of all, she yearned for him to hold her, just as he’d held her that night at the wedding. The past several months of pregnancy and duplicity, coupled with Owen’s brush with death, had exhausted her. Guilt was weighing her down and she wanted someone to help carry her burden. Not since her mother died in that awful accident on the sea had anyone been able to provide Julianne with comfort the way Will Connelly had the night they’d spent together.
And now he hated her.
Julianne shook herself. Thinking about Will would only make her crazy. She’d deal with him and whatever plans he had tomorrow. Right now she needed to concentrate on Owen. Her baby was going to live! Joy and relief surged through her body as she collapsed onto the sofa. Carly gathered Julianne in her arms as she sat down beside her.
“Owen is going to live,” Julianne said through her tears. “My baby is going to be okay.”
“I know.” Carly rubbed Julianne’s back. “Will’s blood was all Owen needed.”
Julianne felt the now-familiar hitch of anguish and anger at the mention of Will saving Owen. But she pushed it deep down. The fact remained that despite the way she’d duped the man, he’d stepped in and saved Owen with only her word that he was the father. She owed him much more than just her gratitude.
Julianne wiped her face with her hands. “I know. And I’m going to make it right with him, Carly. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.” She got up to get a drink of water, completely missing the troubled look that passed between Shane and Carly.