Stepping out of the shower, I found a fresh hospital gown resting on the sink, along with a robe, slippers, and a new pair of underwear. I wasn’t feeling particularly vain, but the disposable fishnet underwear provided by the hospital were severely lacking in comfort. The hospital gown provided little more privacy. So these small luxuries were welcome.
Grabbing the underwear, I took no chances of falling and sat on the toilet while sliding them over my feet. A short walk to the bathroom and I felt like I’d run the Boston marathon. I was left weak and shaky. Recovery was going to take a little more than a shower and a couple aspirin. I needed sustenance and rest. Plenty of rest. But first, I needed to visit the nursery.
Quickly, I finished dressing. Carter updated me with new photos of the baby every day, but I wanted to see him for myself. Until I held him in my arms, I wouldn't feel at ease. Who was I kidding? Even then, I wouldn't feel at ease. Mothers never did. It was in our genetic makeup to worry. And he’d come into the world eight weeks earlier than planned.
Turning the lever, I pushed the door open. Carter was leaning against the wall, talking to someone farther in the room. I’d expected to find Jacqueline waiting with the wheelchair. Instead, I was waylaid by Jess, Carter’s older sister, who was there with her husband and daughter.
“Oh, Mattie!” Jess gasped. Striding toward me, she encompassed me in an embrace. “You poor thing! Look at you!”
I felt like an idiot. The whole situation was awkward. I’d always liked Jess, but everything was different now. I wasn’t sure what Carter had told her and Richard, or how I was supposed to act. I wasn’t the girl who’d caught Carter’s eye. I was the one who threw herself at him and got herself knocked up. There was no romantic love story. It was pure scandal, and I was at the head of it all.
Reading my hesitation, Jess backed me to arm’s length. “How’re you feeling, sweetie?”
“F-fantastic.” Annnnddd the stutter was back. Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful.
Jess’s expression shifted in understanding. She rolled her eyes over her faux pas. “Lord, that was a dumb question, wasn't it?”
“I've f-felt better,” I admitted.
“But she’s improving,” Carter interjected. Moving closer, he lifted his arms and tugged a knit cap over my head, covering the atrocity that used to be what people called hair. I had to tamp down the beast that craved his attention. He loved me. He wasn’t in love with me.
I supposed that was karma at its best. You get what you give.
I’d loved Haris. I just wasn’t in love with him.
“I’d say you were lucky,” Richard voiced. “I’ve seen the video. It was a pretty nasty collision.”
“Lucky would’ve been c-c-catching that guy before he was able t-t-to hurt anyone,” I disagreed. “I almost died. The baby could’ve died.” Haris died.
A lump swelled in my throat.
“But you’re both alive, despite everything.”
“I c-c-call that skill. I had good doctors.”
“Speaking of skill,” Jess stepped in. “Richard’s going to put his to use while I show Gabi some of the sights. Maybe do a little shopping. Is there anything you need, sweetie? Anything I can pick up for you while we’re out?”
“No thank you. I think I’m good. Oh, um, thanks f-for the robe and other things.”
“Actually, you can thank me for the robe, and the other things.” Carter’s lips twitched upward. He’d bought the underwear too. They weren’t sexy little numbers. They were nude, compression panties to help with healing after childbirth. They sucked everything in, straight up to my breasts. Embarrassingly enough, they were exactly what I needed.
“Thank you,” I said with as much antagonism as appreciation.
Irking me, he gave me a trademark Carter Strickland wink. “When everyone leaves, you can thank me properly.”
“Richard, while you’re here, how do I go about f-filing f-for a restraining order?” I inquired, my hand resting on my hip.
“She’s kidding,” Carter winked. “She’s in love with me. She just hasn’t forgiven me yet.”
“How about a gag order? C-c-can I get one of those?”
“Sweetie, ain’t no piece of paper going to shut him up,” Jess advised. “You’d need a physical gag. I’ll pick one up for you while I’m out.”
“A hammer might work better,” I suggested.
“I’m going to handle the legalities of the collision,” Richard said. Taking his wife by the arm, he began ushering her out of the room. “I’ll leave this disagreement for the two of you to settle between yourselves.”
“The baby is beautiful, Mattie!” Jess called out. “I can’t wait to hold him!”
Following her parents from the room, Gabi paused to kiss Carter’s cheek. “Congratulations, Uncle Carter.”
“Thanks, Gab.”
Stretching up on her toes, she leaned closer to his ear. “I like her.”
“So do I,” Carter replied, his gaze locked with mine. When I rolled my eyes and looked away, he added, “Unfortunately, I don’t think she likes me.”
“You should grovel.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start. I’ve never groveled before.”
“Then she’s perfect for you.”
“Go.” Turning her away from him, he pushed her toward the hall, and swatted her on the rump. “Before you all but have me handing her my balls on a silver platter.”
“Carter!” Jess scolded. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“Then you’re failing miserably.”
Laughing, Gabi trotted after her parents. “Gosh, Mom, you’re so uptight. I hear much worse at school, you know.”
“That’s why you’re here with us and not at home throwing keg parties with your friends…” Jess’s voice faded down the hall as she and Gabi squabbled over making mature adult decisions.
“Sit,” Carter commanded, steering the wheelchair in my direction. “You're swaying on your feet.”
“I'm t-tired.”
“You're recovering.”
“I wanted t-to walk a little bit.”
“Doctor’s orders. Besides, maternity is across the hospital. You’ll be exhausted by the time you get there.”
Caving, I climbed into the chair. Carter circled around and crouched down in front of me. I watched apprehensively as he leaned forward, holding my breath until he flipped the footrest. “Relax, Angel, I don’t bite.” He emphasized ‘I’, staring up at me with a teasing glint in his eyes. Grasping my ankle, he guided my foot forward and onto the tread. His fingers were warm against my skin. His touch, far from innocent. Before he rose back to his feet, he nipped my knee with a gentle scrape of his teeth.
“Carter!”
“Tooth for a tooth, Angel.”
“You’re a jerk.”
“Bark all you want,” he dismissed. “You’re like a little dog, and little dogs bark when they feel threatened.”
“Shut up.”
“You know how you fix that problem?”
“Obviously not,” I retorted. “You’re still t-talking.”
“Conditioning, Angel,” Carter explained, ignoring me. “Slowly, you introduce yourself by using a calm and friendly voice. Once you’ve gained a measured amount of trust, then you add touching slowly into the mix.”
“Well, you’ve got a long way t-t-to go.”
“I have time.” With a light push, Carter guided me through the door and into the hall. The nurses glanced up as we passed the station, their eyes focused a few feet above and beyond their patient. Me. I wondered if I faked a seizure if they’d even notice, besotted as they were with my escort.
“Why’re you so b-b-bent on complicating my life?”
“I’m not trying to complicate it.”
“There’re thousands of women ready t-t-to throw themselves at your feet. Why—”
“They don’t know me.”
“I don’t either.” Resting my elbow on the arm of the chair, I propped my head on my hand and rubbed my temples. I thought I’d known him. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
“Hey.” Slowing to a stop, Carter grasped my wrist, gathering my attention. When I lifted my head, he was staring down, his brows furrowed in concern. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” No. I didn’t want to discuss this anymore. Us. There wasn’t an us. I wasn’t about to take advantage of his guilt or sense of obligation and ruin his life. I’d already taken advantage of one man. He was dead because of it.
“Does your head hurt?”
“A little.”
“I’m sorry.” Letting go of my wrist, he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the wheelchair and began pushing again. He didn’t speak again as we continued down the hall, not even when we found ourselves alone in the elevator.
Shuffling to the side, he leaned his weight against the wall and fussed at his prosthetic.
“Is it bothering you?”
“It’s a spare. I broke my good one when I was fighting with your boyfriend. It’s being repaired.”
“This one doesn’t fit right?”
“No. There’s a small gap at the bottom. My stump is getting irritated from the friction. I think I’m getting a blister.”
“Maybe you should stay off it.”
“Easier said than done. The nurses are friendly, but I’m not a patient here. Nobody’s going to wheel me around.”
That said, the elevator pinged. Carter moved behind me and guided me carefully through the door. Once again, we fell into silence. We’d turned down a third corridor when I saw the sign for the NICU and breathed a sigh of relief. Almost instantaneously, anxiety welled up in me, a mixed flurry of emotions that brought tears to my eyes.
Pausing beside the nurses’ station, Carter leaned over the counter. “We’re here to see Baby Whalen.”
“I’ll need to see your bracelet,” the nurse instructed. She smiled at Carter with familiarity. “Sorry, it’s routine.”
“I, of all people, appreciate the precautions,” Carter dismissed. Resting his arm on the counter, he offered his wrist. “There’re some real whackos out there. He’s not something I want some crazed fan running off with as a souvenir.”
Oh. My. God. He was flirting. Totally flirting with the nurse.
Raising his voice in a range of falsettos, he mocked ninety-nine point nine percent of his fan base. “I got Carter Strickland’s guitar pick! I got a hunk of his hair! Oh my God—I’ve got his skin under my fingernails—I’m never washing my hands again!”
“I had his baby,” I offered. “But I definitely need to wash my hands. And I could use a blood screening too. Maybe a douche.” Glancing up at Carter, I scowled. “Oh, never mind, I have one already.”
“A douche?” Carter mouthed. “A douche?”
“You must be Mattie,” the nurse surmised. Her nametag read Monica. “Paisley and Carter told me what happened. That’s awful.”
“You know Paisley?”
“She used to work here in NICU with us.” Extending her arm, her hand fell open. “Sorry. I’ll need to see your bracelet too.”
Lifting my arm, I placed my wrist in her hand. Her lips moved as she read the numbers silently from my bracelet and entered them into her log. When she was done, she let go of my wrist and smiled. “Nervous?”
I snorted. The answer was obvious. “Yeah.”
“You don’t need to be. He’s doing fantastic.” Stepping around the desk, she headed toward the rooms along the hall. “Come on. I’ll put you in a room so you can have some privacy while I go over his progress with you.”
The room was equipped with not only a bed, but a recliner, and a small sofa too. The walls were apple green and warm, with a large bay window taking up one wall. Not bad for a NICU ward. Looked more like a hotel room.
“Have a seat. Whatever you find most comfortable,” Monica instructed. “I’ll be right back with the baby.”
“The recliner is easy to get in and out of,” Carter suggested. “That’s what I use when I come.”
“Really? I thought b-b-beds were your thing.” It was petty and immature. Carter brought out the worst in me.
A smirk spread across his lips. I tried to ignore him as I climbed out of my chair and into the recliner. “Are you jealous, Angel?”
“No.”
“You thought I was flirting with her.”
“You were.”
“I was joking around. Some people still think I’m funny.”
“Unfortunately, some people are blinded by your f-fame and f-fortune.”
“Except you. You know the real me.”
“I thought I did.”
“You keep saying that, but I haven’t changed.” No, he hadn’t. A leopard doesn’t change his spots. Carter Strickland wasn’t going to stay monogamous for me. He’d already proven that.
“Maybe not, but my perception of you has.”
“You know if you expended a fraction of the energy liking me as you did hating me, you’d be much happier.”
I didn’t like him. I loved him. And I didn’t hate him. I was angry and hurt. There was a vast difference.
Saving me from another grueling debate, Monica returned with the baby. Everything, including Carter, fell to the background. “I told you he was doing fantastic. They took off his CPAP and switched to the cannula this morning. He’s been active, and started rooting. Were you planning to breast feed?”
“I was hoping t-to.”
“Are you off your meds?”
“Since Wednesday,” Carter answered for me. “She finished the last of her antibiotics. She hasn’t had any pain relievers since Tuesday.”
I frowned. Like I couldn’t answer for myself.
“Did you want to try feeding him? I’ll remove his gavage tube.” Opening the lid to the incubator, she began disconnecting the remaining monitors. “We remove them when we can. Usually after each feeding. But he really hates having it placed, so we just cap it.”
When I didn’t answer promptly, Monica glanced over her shoulder. I nodded absently, both anxious and afraid. He was so tiny, and there were so many wires. I’d carried him for eight months, but I still couldn’t believe he was mine. Four years of college education to earn my teaching degree, plus additional classes in child psychology, and I suddenly felt inept to raise another human being.
“You look nervous.”
“He’s t-tiny.”
“Don’t worry; he’s doing great. He gained about a pound and a half over the past couple weeks. He’s a strong little guy. But like I said, he’s been rooting. He wants something more.” As she removed what I assumed to be his feeding tube, his arms and legs jerked in complaint. “I know you hate that,” she said understandingly. “But the annoyance will be worth it, little guy. Trust me.”
A moment later, she lifted him from the incubator and cradled him in her hands with the expert care of a well-learned nurse. “Just open your robe so you’re skin to skin. Your body heat will be comforting to him. If he’s hungry, you’ll know soon enough.”
“Is he on a schedule?”
“Every three to four hours, but with breast feeding, he might be hungry every two or so. Your body will naturally adjust to the early delivery by producing a higher fat content, but the doctor might supplement your feedings to keep his weight up until he grows stronger.”
Deftly, she placed the baby on my chest. His legs and arms folded neatly beneath him. His tiny mouth worked against the butt of his fist, suckling. “Should I t-try f-feeding him?”
“I would wait until he wakes a little more. He might not cry, but his eyes will open, and he’ll start to fuss. You’ll know.” Satisfied with his level of comfort, she smiled down at him. “Now, I’m going to run a few things by you, and then I’ll leave the three of you alone. Because of his age, his suck, swallow, breathe reflexes are still developing, so have patience and don’t be discouraged. He’ll learn…”
I paid as much attention to her instructions as humanly possible, but between the baby in my arms, the mental and physical fatigue I was feeling, and the surfeit of knowledge she was imparting, her words began to blend together. I was sure I missed some vital piece of advice while gazing over his perfection.
“Do you have any questions?” Monica asked politely.
“A million,” I confessed. “I just can’t think of one right now.”
“If you need anything at all, just press the call button,” she said, and then she was gone, leaving Carter, the baby, and me all alone.
“What’re you thinking right now?” Carter asked, breaking the silence. Lifting an armchair from the corner, he sat it beside the recliner and propped his elbows on his knees.
“That I screwed up royally. That I’m not ready f-for this. That I’m going t-t-to make a mistake. He’s so t-tiny. I know I’m going t-to do something wrong.”
“You’re doing better than I did, Angel. It took me two days to hold him. Actually, if we’re being honest, I didn’t have a choice. Violet stopped in. I was half asleep in the recliner. Next thing I knew, she was laying him on my chest. I was scared as hell that I was going to break him.”
A smile fluttered over my lips as I pulled the cap gently from the baby’s head. His hair was fine, and pale blond. His ears were perfect and pink. I ran my finger across both, committing them to memory. “Have you changed his diaper yet?”
“Of course. Well, no, not technically,” he backtracked, “I took it off, inspected the goods to make sure everything was cool, and then buttoned everything back up.”
“Was everything cool?”
“Tate said it all looked normal.”
“That’s his professional opinion?”
“Violet concurred.”
“So is he…you know…?”
“The hooded soldier will be disrobed before leaving the hospital.”
“Ouch.” He was so tiny, and had been through so much, I hated the thought of putting him through any pain.
“Not sure I like the idea myself, but Violet assures me he’ll get over it faster than I will.” Resting his hand on the baby’s bottom, he patted him gently with his fingers. “Now that we have all the vitals out of the way, we have one last, but no less important, question to answer.”
“What’s that?”
“What are we going to name him?”
We. As if he had a say in it. Legally. Peer pressure was another thing entirely. “I’m going to name him after my father. Iain.”
“What do you think of that, Iain?” he asked the now-titled, Iain.
Well that was easy. Carter was unexpectedly agreeable. “I’m going to give him the middle name after Haris.” Still, no argument. No agreement, but no argument. “You’re not going to say anything?”
“Neither of you would be here if it wasn’t for the guy. The least I can do is honor him for what he did.”
“Strickland. Iain Haris Strickland.”
“So, you don’t hate me entirely.”
“I don’t hate you at all.” Raising an eyebrow, Carter challenged my claim. “Ok, maybe a little, but I never meant t-t-to keep him from you. It’s just…”
“I hurt you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not half as sorry as I am.” Dropping his head, he gave a pitiful sigh. “We can raise him together, Angel.”
“We will. Just not as a couple.”
“Why won’t you give me a chance?”
“We live t-two different lifestyles, Carter. It'll never work.”
“If Tate and Coop can do it, we can too.”
“They’re different.”
“How fuckin’ so?”
“Because he’s in love with her!” I exclaimed, growing frustrated. I was tired. It was the first time I'd gotten to hold my baby, and I had no interest in discussing our relationship status. I just wanted to soak in the moment, take in Iain’s every detail down to his toes.
“You think I don’t care about you?”
“I think you’re trying desperately hard t-t-to do the ‘right’ thing.”
Piqued, Carter’s expression tightened. “For the last eight months all I thought of was you, Matilda! Day and mother fucking night! And I can promise you, my thoughts weren’t chaste or benevolent! The only thing they had to do with babies, was making them!”
“Wow, now I feel truly cherished!”
Frustrated, Carter rose from the chair. The feet skid across the floor, the sound jarring. “Yeah? Well, I wasn’t out on my grandma’s porch making out with some guy at three in the morning!”
“You!” I choked, my face flushing with color. “You were watching us?” It wasn’t a question so much as an exclamation of disgust and mortification.
“For someone who loved me as long as they could remember, you didn't wait long to move on!”
I gasped, outraged. “I waited a lot longer than you! And I wasn’t having a ménage à trois with a couple of teenagers; I was in a relationship!”
Carter’s expression wavered, first in confusion, and then in guilt. “Who told you that?”
“Does it matter? It’s t-t-true, isn’t it?”
“No!”
For the umpteenth time, I shed tears over Carter Strickland. My hormones were wreaking havoc on my mental state. I wish I could just wring them out like a damp cloth, both my tears and the hormones causing them. Turning my head, I hid my face from Carter.
“I didn’t sleep with them, Angel. I swear.” Ambling closer to the edge of the recliner, he reached down and turned my chin toward him. “You don’t believe me.”
I shook my head. No.
“Then you’re right. You don’t know me.” Pushing a hand through his hair, Carter turned his back toward me. Then, he walked out of the room. And probably my life.
Despite constantly pushing him away, I couldn’t help lamenting over the thought.