“I thought I could count on you for unbiased advice, but you’re sounding just like Daniel.”
“Because that’s the kind of thing that happened to you and Daniel and me,” Ian snapped.
His words hit Mike right in the gut. He’d never felt close to his parents. Daniel had felt only fear and loathing for his father. Ian’s mother had bonded with a liquor bottle, not with him.
“I see your point.” He heard Ian’s whoosh of breath. “I’ll cancel the trip. And, Ian, thanks.”
He left the folder on top of the stack to deal with first thing in the morning, then checked on Brian again. He’d never go to sleep now. He gave up, turned on the lamp in Brian’s bedroom—its base was a bright-red Mini Cooper—and settled into the biggest rocking chair for sale at Baby Heaven, and still not quite big enough.
Brian made him nervous. No, nervous was too mild a word. Brian scared him to death. He knew nothing about babies. Heck, he didn’t really know much about kids. Sure he hung around with Daniel’s foster kids, but those boys were older.
Brian couldn’t talk, couldn’t walk and, most importantly, couldn’t tell Mike when something was wrong or if he was in pain. Mike would have to figure it out all by himself.
Fortunately, he had the information at hand. He opened the baby-care book Allie had insisted he buy. “A user manual?” he’d quipped when she put it firmly into his shopping cart. In fact, it was just what he needed. The book was helping him understand more about Brian. What stage he’d reached, what he needed from Mike, and what Mike could expect in the near future.
The book had a short section on the fear new parents felt. Mike thought that part should have been much longer. He’d never been the type to give up on anything, but Brian hadn’t been one of his goals. A baby had been thrust on him, a complete surprise, a global change in his life.
He wondered again why his father had left Brian to him. Lilah’s he-trusted-you theory was pure Lilah, kind and positive, but he didn’t believe it for a second. Mike would stick with his own hypothesis, that his father had thought this day would never come, that Brian would be an adult before Evan died, that Celine would outlive him by thirty years, so he’d thought of it as a joke. A cruel joke.
Well, the day had come. Brian was entirely dependent on Mike. And Mike would not be like his father. But how? He had so much to learn.
Brian made a murmuring sound. Mike was on hisfeet in an instant, adrenaline racing through his body like fire. When he leaned over the crib, Brian moaned. Mike reached out and touched his forehead.
Hot. The baby felt hot.
It was not the time to look up fever in the baby book. He had touched Brian only a couple of hours ago, and he’d felt cool and normal. Now he was hot, and he was waking up.
Forcing himself to stay calm, Mike went to the bathroom and got the basket of medical supplies Allie had put together. Inside was a thermometer, the kind you stuck in the baby’s ear. He went back to the room and now Brian was whimpering. “It’s okay, buddy,” he said, trying not to let his anxiety show. Carefully, he took Brian’s temperature, and then he freaked. A hundred-two.
He wrapped Brian in his comforter and went for the door, his mind on autopilot. On the way down the outside steps to his car, he grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and called Allie. When she answered, her voice groggy with sleep, he immediately blurted out, “Something’s wrong. Brian’s sick. I’m on my way to the hospital with him.”
He didn’t wait for her answer, her calm voice, her reassurance. He couldn’t. Talking was the last thing he could do at the moment.
He was too consumed with fear.
A LLIE PARKED in the hospital’s parking lot near the E.R. and sprinted inside. When she reached the waiting room, she saw Mike immediately. He was holding a fussy Brian, and he looked desperate.
“Hi,” she said, sitting next to
“Because that’s the kind of thing that happened to you and Daniel and me,” Ian snapped.
His words hit Mike right in the gut. He’d never felt close to his parents. Daniel had felt only fear and loathing for his father. Ian’s mother had bonded with a liquor bottle, not with him.
“I see your point.” He heard Ian’s whoosh of breath. “I’ll cancel the trip. And, Ian, thanks.”
He left the folder on top of the stack to deal with first thing in the morning, then checked on Brian again. He’d never go to sleep now. He gave up, turned on the lamp in Brian’s bedroom—its base was a bright-red Mini Cooper—and settled into the biggest rocking chair for sale at Baby Heaven, and still not quite big enough.
Brian made him nervous. No, nervous was too mild a word. Brian scared him to death. He knew nothing about babies. Heck, he didn’t really know much about kids. Sure he hung around with Daniel’s foster kids, but those boys were older.
Brian couldn’t talk, couldn’t walk and, most importantly, couldn’t tell Mike when something was wrong or if he was in pain. Mike would have to figure it out all by himself.
Fortunately, he had the information at hand. He opened the baby-care book Allie had insisted he buy. “A user manual?” he’d quipped when she put it firmly into his shopping cart. In fact, it was just what he needed. The book was helping him understand more about Brian. What stage he’d reached, what he needed from Mike, and what Mike could expect in the near future.
The book had a short section on the fear new parents felt. Mike thought that part should have been much longer. He’d never been the type to give up on anything, but Brian hadn’t been one of his goals. A baby had been thrust on him, a complete surprise, a global change in his life.
He wondered again why his father had left Brian to him. Lilah’s he-trusted-you theory was pure Lilah, kind and positive, but he didn’t believe it for a second. Mike would stick with his own hypothesis, that his father had thought this day would never come, that Brian would be an adult before Evan died, that Celine would outlive him by thirty years, so he’d thought of it as a joke. A cruel joke.
Well, the day had come. Brian was entirely dependent on Mike. And Mike would not be like his father. But how? He had so much to learn.
Brian made a murmuring sound. Mike was on hisfeet in an instant, adrenaline racing through his body like fire. When he leaned over the crib, Brian moaned. Mike reached out and touched his forehead.
Hot. The baby felt hot.
It was not the time to look up fever in the baby book. He had touched Brian only a couple of hours ago, and he’d felt cool and normal. Now he was hot, and he was waking up.
Forcing himself to stay calm, Mike went to the bathroom and got the basket of medical supplies Allie had put together. Inside was a thermometer, the kind you stuck in the baby’s ear. He went back to the room and now Brian was whimpering. “It’s okay, buddy,” he said, trying not to let his anxiety show. Carefully, he took Brian’s temperature, and then he freaked. A hundred-two.
He wrapped Brian in his comforter and went for the door, his mind on autopilot. On the way down the outside steps to his car, he grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and called Allie. When she answered, her voice groggy with sleep, he immediately blurted out, “Something’s wrong. Brian’s sick. I’m on my way to the hospital with him.”
He didn’t wait for her answer, her calm voice, her reassurance. He couldn’t. Talking was the last thing he could do at the moment.
He was too consumed with fear.
A LLIE PARKED in the hospital’s parking lot near the E.R. and sprinted inside. When she reached the waiting room, she saw Mike immediately. He was holding a fussy Brian, and he looked desperate.
“Hi,” she said, sitting next to
Similar Books
