Page 40 of Daddy's Unexpected Gift

“Could I take a quick look at Hector’s room? I don’t want to disturb him, I just want to see what kind of equipment you have in place. I might have some ideas about what else you’ll find helpful. And then we can sit down and go over what areas you are having difficulty navigating.”

I followed Lucille down a small hall. She opened a door to a room that hummed with equipment. In the middle of a huge medical bed and a wall of motoring equipment was a small child. He couldn’t have been more than five or six. Next to him was a stuffed tiger toy. It looked well-loved and worn. My heart clenched and my breath caught in my throat.

Hector was barely seven, and he looked small for his age. Or maybe he simply looked small because of the scale of all the equipment around him. I made note of the oxygen tank and regulators. Meters and monitors. There were plenty of tubes and leads. An electric wheelchair sat to the side, still in plastic wrapping and with information tags on the handlebars.

I nodded my thanks, and she closed the door. I followed her back down the hall and into her kitchen. She looked years older than I knew her to be when we sat down around the kitchen table. I pulled out the file folder with all of the pamphlets and brochures.

“I think the first thing you are going to have to request is an appropriate passenger van, fully equipped to help you get Hector to and from appointments.” I found the van brochure and handed it across the table.

I was there for hours. I didn’t bother stopping off at the office to write up my notes. I went straight home. I thought I was going to collapse. I dragged my feet up the steps. It felt like an impossible task. That’s what I got for having an apartment on the second floor of a walk-up, no elevators, no choice. Somehow, I managed to get the front door open. I think I closed it before I dropped everything I carried to the floor and staggered to the couch.

Gasping for breath, the tears came, and I started sobbing. I didn’t realize I needed to cry. I had felt tired, exhausted beyond reason. Apparently, that meant I needed to let all of my emotions out.

I clutched a throw pillow to my chest and curled in on myself. I gasped for breath and wailed.

I cried because I was so tired I couldn’t carry on. I cried for that beautiful child now trapped in his little, broken body. His mind was there, and he was smart, but all of the possibilities of his life had been taken from him. I felt anguish for his family and the struggle they now had. Their bright, joyful son would never be able to run and jump. Eventually, he would learn to play, and his parents would get used to the routine that now made up his life. I cried for the fear and hopelessness I saw in his mother’s eyes and the anger I saw in his father’s.

I sobbed out all the self-pity I had because I had been reassigned. I didn’t understand why Greta couldn’t have given me a second assignment if the agency needed to limit the time I spend with Sterling and Georgie? Why did they have to take them away from me?

Because I was growing too attached. And I cried because I had grown very attached, and I missed them. I missed Georgie’s wide open-mouthed smile as she learned to control her face. I missed her little grabby hands, and I missed Sterling.

There was no possible way that the agency knew I slept with him. They couldn’t. As my feeling of stupidity dragged me back down, I cried even more. I couldn’t believe I was such an idiot.

I had slept with Sterling. A client! That was the worst. So dumb, so incredibly dumb. And so incredibly amazing. Part of me knew it had been worth it, just so that I had something to remember when I was old and lonely. A beautiful man had made me feel like I was his every desire.

And of course, that had me crying even more. Of course, Sterling made me feel amazing. He was good. That was experienced and skilled and had nothing to do with anything between us. Because there wasn't anything between us. He was my client.

But he and Georgie didn’t feel like clients. They weren’t some problem for me to solve. When I was with them, I felt like I belonged. They felt like family.

With a groan, I rolled off the couch. I hit the floor with a jolt. I needed to knock some sense into my head. I cried to the point of swollen eyes, and my sinuses were closed from swelling and snot. I staggered through my small apartment and into the bathroom.

I selected a shower scent bath fizzy, eucalyptus and lavender. It would bubble up and fill the air with a calming smell that should also open my air passages. I turned the shower on, scalding hot, and stripped down.

I couldn’t wash away the failures of my day, but the heat felt good to my aching heart and sore muscles. It had been an emotionally long day. All I wanted was to be comfortable and fed. After the shower, I pulled on leggings that felt like a hug and an oversized long-sleeved T-shirt. My hair stayed wrapped up in the towel.

The weather outside was nice, maybe even warm, but I needed the weight and comfort of a blanket. I curled up on the couch and turned the television on. Eventually, I might want something to eat, but for now, I needed something to take my mind away from all the mistakes I had been making. I needed to focus on someone else’s problems.

21

STERLING

The woman across from me flipped her hair, again. How many times can a person flip their hair and giggle inanely at nothing in the span of twenty minutes? Too many, far too many.

I was done with this interview. I stood. “Thank you for your time.”

“Aren’t you going to show me the baby?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t think that will be necessary.” I swept my arm out, palm up, indicating that she needed to go.

“Mr. Sterling, Ms. Stanholt has arrived,” Wayne announced.

“Please show Miss”—fuck, I forgot her name in all the hair flipping. I glanced down at her resume— “Stevens out and Ms. Stanholt in.”

Hair-flip Stevens twisted up her lips and sneered at me before flipping her hair, this time in aggravation and with a finality I didn’t expect. I had no idea that hair could be so expressive.

“I hope you weren’t planning on hiring that woman as a nanny,” Ms. Stanholt said with stern disapproval as she stepped into the living room.

“Why is that?” I wasn’t planning on having anything to do with her and her hair flipping, but now I almost felt like running after the Stevens girl just to piss this woman off.

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