Page 34 of Silver Fox's Secret Baby

"I know you probably don't know what to say to me or how to act. I want to apologize for what happened five years ago. I don't fully understand Lily's pain, but I recognize how badly I hurt her." My words felt empty, like they were too little consolation a bit too late, but it was all I had to offer them. "I can see why she was upset enough to keep such a secret from me." I assumed they knew what I was talking about and got the confirmation I needed in the recognition on Mrs. Carter's face.

"Ethan, you don't have to?—"

"But I do," I said, cutting her off. "I want you to know, Mr. and Mrs. Carter, that I in no way intend to cause problems for Lily or Noah. We have a lot of things to talk about, and maybeit will or out or maybe it won’t. But right now, nothing could be more important to me than making sure my son is cared for in the best way possible. That includes making sure his mother is okay."

David's expression softened, and I saw the heart of a father in his eyes. He wanted to make sure his child and grandchild were safe, but my words were bringing him hope. His shoulders relaxed, and he extended his hand to me.

"Dr. Matthews, I appreciate your words and respect your thoughts." His lips pressed together into a line as he shook my hand, and when he pulled his hand back, he said, "Just make sure she sleeps a little. She's going to be so tired tomorrow when Noah needs her."

I took that as permission for me to go up to their room, which I didn't need, but I valued deeply. I nodded at them, and without saying anything else, Ellen hugged me and then they walked away. I watched them until they walked through the exit doors and vanished into the night. Then I turned toward the elevators.

When I finally walked into Noah's room, I heard Lily snoring softly. She was draped over the side of the bed with her hands wrapped around Noah's. I didn’t want to disrupt her, so I shooed the nurses away and checked Noah's vitals myself. His blood pressure and heart rate were steady. He didn't have a fever, and he was resting peacefully.

It allowed me to really take a good look at him for the first time. In surgery, I hadn't allowed myself to really examine him. I had to focus, to keep my heart in check and make sure he got the best care possible. But now, as tears welled up in my eyes, I marveled over how perfect he was. He looked so much like his mother that had she not told me the truth, I would fully have believed her if she'd lied and said he wasn’t mine.

He snored lightly too, sounded just like Lily, and I pinched the bridge of my nose to stop from crying. How many years I hadlost with him, missing his first steps, first words. I didn't know what his favorite food was or what shows he liked to watch. I wondered if he knew his letters and numbers yet, or if Lily had taught him any nursery rhymes. I wanted to hold him too and cradle his frail little body in my arms to protect him.

So very many emotions washed over me, so many things I wanted to say and ask. But Mr. Carter was right. Lily needed her sleep or she would be no good for him, and since Noah knew nothing about me, I couldn’t exactly pick up the slack. Though, just looking at him and how full my heart felt knowing he was mine, I hoped one day, I would be able to. How would that go, anyway? How did you tell a four-year-old, "This man is your father but you've never met him."

I checked his chart as a distraction to avoid crying anymore. This time, I really examined it. The information in my file was limited, but this file on the computer in his room held all his medical records back to birth. Dr. Butler had them forwarded here so that Dr. Adams and I could review them. Noah had been through so much for such a little guy, and I hated that I wasn't there for any of it. I wasn’t angry with Lily as much as I was disappointed that I had missed it.

When I locked the computer, I decided to sit down next to her and wait for her to wake up. Certainly, it wouldn't be very long. With her neck craned like that, she'd get a kink in one of those muscles and her body would rouse her. So I pulled up a chair and sat down, but the noise startled her and just as I was seated, she sat straight up and looked at me with surprise and fear.

When the initial shock of being woken up wore off, she said, "Ethan…" and I heard the sorrow in her tone.

"Can we talk?" I asked, nervous she was about to throw me out, but she bit her lower lip and nodded her head.

Now, if God would only grant me the serenity to know the things I couldn't change and the courage to embrace the present, everything would go well.

25

LILY

Irubbed my eyes and stared at Ethan who looked calm, not angry the way I expected. I never heard him come in, and I wondered how long he'd been sitting here watching me sleep. My phone, lying on the mattress by Noah who was fast asleep, was dead. I didn't know what time it was or how long I had been sleeping. My neck hurt, and even though I had been so eager to speak with him and find out how angry he was with me, I suddenly didn't want him in the room.

I felt self-conscious and nervous. I was afraid there would be shouting that would wake Noah, or that I would break down crying and when Noah woke up, he would be scared or uneasy with that. Add to that my fears of Ethan taking Noah away from me, and I was a bundle of nerves and wished Mom and Dad were here to be a shield between me and Ethan.

"Can we talk?" he asked, and I froze.

All of the questions I had earlier this evening were suddenly just out of reach. The things that had been on the tip of my tongue were gone. I couldn’t conjure up a single thought other than the gripping fear of losing my little boy and the man I loved all in the same hard conversation. I dug deep and reached for any answer other than "yes", but instead of fight or flight, Ifound myself like a deer in headlights wishing the car would just hit me and put me out of my misery.

"Lily, I'm sorry."

Ethan's apology wasn't at all what I expected. I thought he'd demand the truth and question me with a thousand things—where I was, how I never told him, what I thought I was going to do for the rest of Noah's life. The words were almost painful because I assumed he was angry with me and would shout or judge me harshly for my mistake. Why was he apologizing to me? I was the one who hurt him this time.

"What?" I mumbled, and then I rubbed my eyes. It had been a long day. For all I knew, this was just a horrible dream and I would wake up to find out what I actually feared happening was true.

"I said, I'm sorry." He looked over at Noah and sighed. Then he continued. "I guess I never really understood how much I hurt you five years ago." Ethan's shoulders dropped as he watched our son sleeping in the hospital bed that seemed to swallow his thin little body.

"I know I apologized for it before, but all of this" —he gestured with his hand— "just shows me how much pain you were in. I know you would never have kept our little boy a secret." He turned to look at me. "It must have destroyed you when I said those words."

My mind had replayed that sentence over and over in my head. When I finally came to terms with the fact that Ethan hadn’t called me a mistake but that he'd called our not telling HR early on in the relationship a mistake, it was too late. I was a mother with a very sick child alone in a strange city, and Ethan was for all intents and purposes a stranger to me again.

His hand reached for Noah's arm, and he rubbed his thumb up and down beside the IV port. I could see the pain and fear in his eyes. Pain because of what I'd put him through, and probablyfear over how Noah would recover. Or maybe he was worried I wouldn't let him be around Noah, which couldn't be further from the truth. I wanted Noah to know Ethan. I just wasn't sure how to make that happen with the challenges we faced.

"Ethan, I…" I didn't know where to begin. Nothing I could say would give him back the four years he'd missed with his son. It felt useless saying anything, or even apologizing.

I watched him for a few minutes. He seemed torn, like he wanted to shout at me but knew better. Or maybe he wished I would yell at him, let off all the steam of five years of being alone, being pregnant without him, raising a very sick child who'd been through medical procedures and trauma. I didn't know how to read him anymore. I didn't know if I ever knew how to read him. If I had, maybe we wouldn't be in this situation at all.

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