My baby cried and screamed as the team got him ready to hand over. All I wanted was to hold him in my arms.
“Is that him?” I asked, instantly feeling silly about asking the question.
“This is him,” said the doctor, bringing the boy closer to me. “A perfectly healthy little boy.”
“Kiddo couldn’t wait to get out and see his mama,” said one of the nurses, pulling her face mask down and revealing a warm smile.
I took the squirming little boy into my arms, unable to believe what I was seeing.
He was tiny, so tiny, with a head of dark, matted-down hair and stunning mint-green eyes.
Colton’s eyes.
I pushed thoughts of the baby’s father out of my head as I held my precious son tight.
“Now,” said the doctor. “We need to borrow him just for a few minutes. He looks completely healthy, but he is a little early, and it doesn’t hurt to make sure.”
“Plus we need to get him cleaned up and looking handsome for you,” said the nurse.
Tears welled in my eyes as I held my baby. I couldn’t believe he was mine.
“He’s already the most handsome little man I’ve ever seen in my life,” I said.
I handed him over to the doctor, my heart sinking as I watched him leave with the baby. I knew that it was only to make sure he was in good health, but I didn’t want to be apart from him any longer than absolutely necessary.
Thankfully, he wasn’t gone long. The nurse returned with my boy, now all cleaned up and swaddled in a cozy-looking, little blue blanket.
“Here he is,” said the nurse as she approached me. She handed me the baby, and I took him eagerly.
“Is he okay?” I asked. “I was so worried about him being early.”
“Healthy as a horse,” she said. “A very tiny horse, that is.”
The relief at knowing my baby was okay hit me harder than any emotion I’d ever experienced. At that moment I knew that my well-being was going to be forever tied up with that of my boy. Everything was going to change.
The staff left me alone, and soon it was just my baby son and me. I held him close, looking over every inch of him, from his little button nose to his tiny wiggling fingers to his long eyelashes. He was the most precious thing I’d ever see in my life.
After a time, a knock sounded at the door. It opened just a bit, enough for one of the nurses to poke her head into the room.
“Feel up for a visitor?”
“Of course,” I said with a smile.
An instant later Jamie burst through the door, letting out a squeal as she laid eyes on the little bundle in my arms.
“Oh, my God!” she shouted out, rushing to my side and kneeling down to see him. “He’s so freaking gorgeous!”
Jamie’s eyes went wide as she seemed to realize that she might very well be scaring the hell out of the poor kid. “Sorry,” she said, her voice now lower. “I just can’t believe how beautiful he is.”
“I know,” I said, rocking him slowly against my breast. “He’s a miracle.”
Jamie plopped into the seat next to the bed, her eyes fixed on the baby.
“Okay,” she said. “The nurse told me he was a boy, so we’ve got that little detail figured out. Now—what about the name?”
I’d had names picked out for both sexes, but I’d kept them to myself until now.
“Lucas,” I said.
“I love it,” she said. “Hey, did you name him after—”
“Lucas Miller, the man in the foster couple I stayed with in Holly Lake. That’s right.”
“That’s so sweet of you,” Jamie said, leaning in and giving Lucas a slight poke on his chubby cheek.
“Little Lucas,” I said, holding him close. “What’s this world got in store for you?”
The future was uncertain. But at that moment, my baby held close, I knew that I was more full of joy than I’d ever been in my life.
I was ready to be a mom.
Chapter 21
Shayla
Three Days Later
The day had taken just about everything out of me. I was wiped out, but the good kind of wiped out. The kind that made me want to curl up with a cup of hot cocoa in front of the fire and relax before cozying up in bed. I took one last look at Lucas from the threshold of his bedroom, watching his little chest rise and fall. He’d been an easy baby so far, and I made sure to enjoy his calm demeanor while he had it. I knew that babies could get very fussy, but part of me hoped that he’d stay the same adorable little angel forever.
Once I was sure he was down for a few hours, I headed downstairs and got the fire going, turning the lights in the living room down low. Once a lovely, quiet ambiance had been set, I went to the kitchen and made myself that cup of hot cocoa.
I dabbed my finger into the chocolatey goodness and brought it to my mouth, letting the flavor wash over my tongue. The temperature was just right, so I picked up the mug and stepped into the living room, ready to settle in for some TV before bed.
Just as I was about to collapse on the couch, however, a knock sounded from the front door.
I wasn’t expecting anyone, and a tinge of anxiety ran through me, but a glance through the peephole revealed that my visitor was none other than Richie.
I opened the door, and he greeted me with a big smile, his arms loaded down with flowers and candy.
“Evening,” he said, his voice bright.
“Hey, Richie!” I said, happy to see him.
I stepped away from the door and gestured for him to come in. He entered and plopped all of the presents he’d brought onto the nearest table.
“So good to see you,” I said. “I wish I’d known you were coming.”
“You didn’t get my email?” he asked. “I sent it earlier today.”
“I don’t think I did,” I said. In the blur of bringing Lucas home, I hadn’t exactly been keeping an eye on my emails.
“Oh,” Richie said. “Well, sorry for dropping by unannounced.”
“Not a problem at all,” I said, following his gaze to the mug of cocoa in my hands. “Want some hot chocolate?”
“Sure,” he said. “Perfect night for it.”
“Have a seat,” I said. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Richie dropped into one of the living room chairs as I headed into the kitchen.
“Where is the little guy?” he asked when I returned, handing him the steaming mug.
“Sleeping. For now, at least.”
“Fussy kid?” asked Richie.
“No, he’s pretty calm, all things considered. Problem is that it’s just me, so if he ever gets too much to handle, I don’t have anyone else to back me up.”
A quick expression flashed on Richie’s face, one that struck me as odd. It almost looked, for the briefest of moments, as though he was conflicted about something. But he shook his head, and his expression quickly went back to the congenial one he’d worn since he came in.
“It’s too bad,” he said. “Bet it would be a big help to have a dad around. It’s a damn shame that things turned out the way they did.”
A hush of silence fell over us, one that was slightly awkward.
“Anyway,” he said, apparently feeling the same way and shooting out a word to dispel the odd vibe in the air. “It’s good to see you, Shayna.”
“Good to see you, too,” I said. “And thank you so much for all the goodies. But you really didn’t have to get me anything else. What sent me at the hospital was already so generous.”
He waved his hand through the air, dismissing the notion.
“Don’t think anything about it,” he said. “I felt terrible for not being able to visit you at the hospital after Lucas arrived, so just consider it my way of making up for it.”
I smiled, but it really was almost too much. Richie had sent so many flowers and toys to me in the hospital that they nearly took up all the free space in my car on the way back. And now he’d brought even more.
“Say,” he w
ent on, “I know that he’s sleeping, but is there any chance I could at least see him?”
“Of course,” I said. We just have to be really quiet.
I got up and led Richie upstairs to the nursery. Once at the door, I opened it as slowly as I could. The room was shrouded in darkness, the moonlight casting a silvery sheen on the crib in the center of the room, Lucas sleeping peacefully swaddled in blankets.
We tiptoed over and stood at the side of the crib, looking in.
“Wow,” Richie said, whispering. “He’s beautiful.”
“Isn’t he?” I said, a warm happiness spreading through me as I watched my baby sleeping soundly, his little chest rising and falling.
“And I know you’re going to be a great mom,” said Richie, turning to me.
We watched him for a few moments more before I nodded toward the doorway.
Back in the living room, the two of us sat down around the coffee table, our mugs of hot cocoa in hand. The fire crackled, and the air was pleasant and warm.
A pensive expression appeared on Richie’s face, one that suggested he had more on his mind than he was letting on.
“What’s up?” I asked. “You look stressed.”
He pursed his lips together, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say what he was thinking. After one more sip of cocoa, he spoke.
“Listen,” he said. “There’s a reason I wanted to come talk to you in person, and it’s not just because I wanted to congratulate you.”
I tilted my head, curious.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Hold on,” Richie said. He got up and headed over to the kitchen table, opening up the briefcase that he’d had slung over his shoulder when he’d arrived. After a moment, he slipped out a manila folder and brought it over.
“What’s this?” I asked as he handed it to me.
“Before you open it, I want to tell you why I did it. Shayla, the idea of you being a single parent was killing me. I know you’re a responsible woman, and I know you’ve got what it takes to do whatever you put your mind to. But raising a child on your own is something else. And the thought of you struggling was something I couldn’t stand.”
Tension tightened in my belly.
“What did you do, Richie?” I asked, my eyes locked onto the envelope.
“I reached out to Colton’s legal team. And they responded…poorly.”
The tension turned into a sharp, ice-cold feeling in my stomach. Without saying another word, I opened the envelope and dumped the contents out onto the coffee table. It was a single sheet of paper with a legal firm’s letterhead.
I snatched the sheet of paper from the table and scanned it with eager eyes. Written in cold, professional text was a statement declaring that their client, Colton Cooper, emphatically denied the baby’s paternity, and any other “baseless” claims would have serious legal repercussions.
The letter concluded ominously—“Consider this your first and final warning.”
“I thought it was worth a shot,” said Richie. “I mean, the worst they could do is what they did there, right?”
I couldn’t believe what I held in my hands. Tears formed in my eyes, and I quickly wiped them away.
“I’m really, really sorry if I overstepped my bounds. But like I said, it was impossible for me to stand by.”
“It’s…okay,” I said, placing the letter back in the envelope, the mere sight of it making me sick to my stomach. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been wondering if it was stupid to not tell him, you know? What if you were wrong, and that he’d be eager to help?”
Richie said nothing, letting me say my piece.
“But now I know,” I concluded. “You were right. He doesn’t want to be a part of his own child’s life.”
Richie snorted in contempt.
“Might even be worse than that. He could even be so cynical that he thinks you’re making it all up to get some money out of him. Guys with that much money are always paranoid about people trying to scam them out of what they have. I’ve seen it again and again.”
Without thinking, I took my now lukewarm cocoa into my hands and took a long sip. In that plain folder on the coffee table was proof that I was alone in all of this. Any hope of Colton swooping in and doing the right thing had been dashed.
“But I’ll tell you this until you believe it,” said Richie. “You can do this. You’re going to be the mother that this kid needs. And you don’t need to worry about work or anything like that. Sure, I was hesitant to have you working so far away, but you’ve stayed the killer employee that you’ve always been.”
He took a quick look around the room. “And you’ve built a great little life for yourself here.”
“Thanks, Richie,” I said. My eyes were still locked onto the envelope.
Sensing this, Richie took it out of my sight.
“Maybe he’ll come around,” he said. “It’s the right thing to do, and he knows it. His conscience might gnaw away at him.”
“If he even has a conscience,” I spat.
Richie said nothing. And just as well—there wasn’t anything to say.
I was alone, and that plain little envelope was all the proof I needed.
Chapter 22
Colton
Four Months Later
It was the day of the annual Christmas party, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I wasn’t in the spirit.
The Santa costume, the one I’d worn every year since the founding of the company, hung on the back of my office door. Any other year I’d be as excited as a kid to put that thing on and spread Christmas joy, but today was different.
A knock sounded from my office door.
“Come in,” I said.
The door opened and Trey stepped in.
“Okay,” he said, a tablet held in front of his face. “We’ve got the caterers coming in an hour. The band’s showing up at five, so they’ll be all ready when the staff starts showing up. Once the party’s in full swing, you can pop out and do your Santa thing.”
His eyes flicked up from the tablet for long enough to notice the pile of presents for the staff on my office table, more than half of them still unwrapped.
“You…need some help?” Trey asked.
I shook my head and sat back in my chair. I couldn’t muster the will to even get up.
“Nah,” I said, my tone flat. “Just taking a break.”
A quizzical expression appeared on Trey’s trim face.
“Okay,” he said. “Something’s up. I’m speaking to the living embodiment of Christmas cheer the day of the staff party, but you look like you’ve just been told that Santa isn’t real.”
“Just tired, is all,” I said.
“Now that I don’t believe,” he said, taking a seat on the edge of my desk. “Last year you were so excited for the party that I was half-convinced you’d managed to synthesize Christmas spirit in a drug and were high as heck on it.”
He was right. I loved the holidays, but this year I couldn’t muster up the energy to care. I was only going through the motions, and I knew it.
“You want a cup of coffee or something, boss. Or…you want to talk about whatever’s on your mind?”
I don’t know what I’d talk about even if I did want to. The year had been killer—the CooperWare VR project had been a hit, and each fiscal quarter since the release had been better than the last. Over on the coffee table was a stack of magazines, each of them with my face on the front. My entrepreneurial dreams were coming true, and it was my favorite time of the year.
Then why the hell was I so melancholy?
“Nothing on my mind,” I said. “But some coffee would be nice if you wouldn’t mind grabbing it.”
“Sure boss,” said Trey, his tone making it clear that he didn’t believe me for a second that nothing was on my mind.
He took one last skeptical glance at me before leaving the office.
Truth be told, I didn’t even want the coffee—what I
really wanted was to be alone. I appreciated Trey’s concern, but explaining feelings that I didn’t even understand was the last thing I wanted to do.
With great effort, I heaved myself out of the desk chair and plopped down on the couch on the other side of the office in front of the presents. Trey returned with my coffee a minute later, and after taking a sip, I picked up where I had left off wrapping.
“I just noticed what’s strange about your office,” said Trey on his way out the door. “It’s silent in here. No Christmas music.”
He was right. I hadn’t even noticed that I’d been sitting in silence for the entire day.
I reached for the remote, but before picking it up my hand stopped. I realized that I didn’t want the music—I actually preferred the silence.
Once the presents were wrapped, I could hear the bustle of caterers and staff arriving. I picked up my coffee and stepped in front of the office window, looking out onto the snow-covered city, the sky a sheet of slate gray.
I thought about what Shayla had said last year, about how the white of fresh powder soon quickly turns to gray slush. This year, I was noticing the slush more than the powder.
Once Shayla appeared in my mind, she wouldn’t leave. I was still upset at how things had turned out between us, all on account of that damn logo.
Strangely, the thought of Shayla roused me. The melancholy broke for a brief moment, and I felt a tinge of happiness run through me as I thought about our time together last year.
Was my unusual mood all because of her?
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I needed to see her again. I knew she’d told me to never talk to her, but surely she had to have put those bitter feelings behind her after so much time.
Another knock, and Trey appeared at the door.
“The guests are starting to show up,” he said. “You ready?”
“Sure,” I said, the despondent tone returning to my voice.
I filed away the thoughts of Shayla for now, instead focusing all my energy on getting through the Christmas party. It struck me as strange that I was looking at the party as something to endure rather than something to enjoy.
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