Page 6 of Dr. Single Dad

I nod, taking in the weird-looking creature in the bassinet.

“Oh, I forgot,” I say. “Is Kelly here? Can I speak to her?”

The woman winces. “She was discharged. She left a few hours ago.” She flips through the papers in her arms. “But she left this for you.”

It’s a sealed brown envelope. When the woman leaves, I sit back into the chair and pull out the papers, checking everything’s been signed properly. While we were traveling, I had my lawyers draw up some paperwork. She’s signed everything, renouncing all her rights to the child and giving me all legal and moral responsibility. I don’t want any muddy waters. Kelly wanted the baby adopted and the outcome will be the same. She doesn’t have to have anything to do with the child. That’s my job now.

I push the papers back in the envelope and stuff them into my backpack. There’s no note or forwarding address. Makes things much easier.

When I clip my backpack closed, Vincent is standing over the bassinet and I go over to join him.

“She’s sleeping,” I say.

“They do a lot of that in the first few weeks,” Vincent says.

I don’t know where the thought comes from, but before I have the chance to think, I blurt out, “How do we know she’s actually sleeping and not…” I can’t actually say the worddead, but that’s what I mean.

“You can get monitors that clip on to the diaper,” Vincent says. “It detects if there’s a lack of movement.”

My heart squeezes a little. After Sutton and Jacob’s miscarriage, some of the excitement for Vincent and Kate’s baby turned to fear. Hopefully, the fact that Sutton announced atChristmas she was four months pregnant will make life easier for everyone. But I can feel his anxiety.

“Maybe I should get one of those,” I say.

“You going to pick her up?” he asks.

I reach behind my neck and scratch. “I don’t want to disturb her. Not until I’ve signed all the discharge paperwork and we’re leaving.”

Vincent’s grinning like an idiot at the baby. “You told your parents yet?” he asks, not taking his gaze from the bassinet.

I shake my head. “I’ll tell them on the way back.”

“You know they’re going to be fine with it.” He laughs. “Who’d have thought you’d be a father before me?”

Considering this was a race I never thought to enter, it’s safe to say the answer is “no one.”

I sigh. I’m not worried about my parents’ approval. I know they’ll be thrilled—even if the circumstances are a bit unconventional. I just want life to get back to normal. I wish we could speed through this bit where I have to have family members come round to meet her and coo over her and ask me a thousand questions I don’t have the answers to. I want the nanny in place and for us all to be in a routine. Then life can get back to normal.

Jacob crashes through the door, looking slightly disheveled. “I got one.” He holds up a car seat. “It fits on to this pushchair I got. You can wheel it around.”

“Thanks,” I say, and I glance at the baby. “Let’s leave her in that cot thing until I have the discharge paperwork.”

Jacob follows my eyeline and his expression instantly melts. “Oh, that’s her. He crouches over her. “Hey, baby Cove. I’m your uncle Jacob,” he coos. “I’m going to have a daughter soon. You two are going to be best friends.”

“She’s going to like me better,” Vincent says.

“Impossible, I’m brilliant with kids. It’s my job.” He goes to the other side of the room and washes his hands in the sink I hadn’t even noticed. “Have you picked her up?” he asks. With clean hands, he strokes her cheek, and she turns her head towards his finger.

“Hello, sweet girl,” he says.

Her eyes are closed, but in her sleep she moves her mouth so it forms a perfect ‘O’, and the corners of my mouth twitch. I reach out and touch her forehead with my fingertips and sharply pull my hand back.

The door opens again and a nurse and someone in scrubs comes in. We go through the discharge paperwork while Vincent and Jacob compete over my daughter’s attention.

“That’s it,” I tell them. “We’re free to go.”

“Are you going to put her in the car seat?” Vincent asks.

“Sure.” I go over to the sink and wash my hands. It’s not like I’ve never handled a newborn before. Of course I have—I had an obstetrics residency. But I’ve never handled someone who…I’m responsible for. I feel like I’m about to fuck it up and drop her or something.

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