Page 24 of Mafia Doctor's Secret Baby

I don’t want to let myself get drawn into all of this, this feeling of being part of a family. It’s not what I need here, not what I can live with. I have a whole life that has nothing to do with this place, and it’s a life I’m not willing to abandon for anything. It’s a life I have trained for as long as I’ve been alive, and a life I won’t let slip through my fingers.

And yet, as she holds Polly out toward me, I find myself cradling her in my arms for the first time. And as she gazes up at me, taking me in for the first time, I feel a rush of emotion so intense it nearly takes me off my feet.

“You okay?” Katie asks, probably able to read the expression on my face right now.

I nod. “I’m fine,” I assure her, gently brushing a strand of Polly’s hair aside. “I’m fine.”

I just hold her for a moment, relishing this chance to be close to her. It’s unlike anything I have felt before, this connection with her—knowing that she is my own flesh and blood, and being able to see her for all the potential she holds in her own right too. A whole lifetime stretched out ahead of her, from this moment when she’s resting in my arms, and it’s hard to wrap my head around just how much that means.

After a few moments, she starts sniffling again, and Katie reaches out for her once more.

“She must be exhausted,” she murmurs as she brings her back to her crib. “You get some rest, baby. I’ll be back to check on you soon, okay?”

And with that, she slowly backs out of the room, setting up the baby monitor so she can keep an eye on Katie from the other room. She plants the screen on the table in the living room, and sits down on the couch again, rubbing her hand over her face.

I’m not sure what to do. Does she want me to go now? She seems like she has calmed down, and I can’t imagine she wants to keep me kicking around for any longer than I need to be.

“You can sit,” she tells me softly, glancing up at me.

“You sure? I can go?—”

“I want you to stay.”

The words are simple, but they send a shock wave through my system. There’s something completely all-consuming about being here with her right now, as though everything that exists outside of this apartment has ceased to be. I take a seat next to her, and glance over to the baby monitor.

“She’s sleeping already,” I remark, and she smiles and nods.

“Yeah, she does sleep well,” she agrees. “I’m really lucky. I know a lot of babies have trouble at this age, but she usually goes down like it’s nothing.”

“It’s not just luck.”

She glances over at me, confused.

“You’re a great mom, Katie.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “I appreciate the sentiment,” she replies. “But I don’t know if it’s possible to be a great mom this early on in her life. Give me a few months and I can really accept that compliment, you know?”

I reach over and grip her knee tightly, gazing at her. I need her to hear this from me. I need her to know how serious I am. Because something tells me she doesn’t have a lot of people in her life who are willing to tell her what she needs to hear.

“No, I’m serious,” I murmur to her. “You are. I can see it in the way you look at her, the way you talk to her—you’re great at this already. I see plenty of mothers come in and out of the hospital, so I know when I’m looking at a natural.”

She smiles again, but this time, it’s a little more sincere. She looks a little more certain, as though she’s starting to trust the words coming out of my mouth.

“I’m not saying that I ever could have planned for any of this,” I tell her softly, reaching my hand up to rest on her cheek. “But if I’d had the choice—I would have chosen to have a baby with someone like you.”

She draws in a sharp breath at those words. For a second, I worry I’ve overstepped—worry that I have said something too intense, something too hard for her take.

But then she grins at me. “You really mean that?”

“I really mean that.”

“Well,” she breathes. “That’s…that’s a lovely thing to hear, that’s for sure.”

She falls silent for a moment, and as I study her face, curiosity gets the better of me. Despite the fact that we have a daughter together, I still hardly know anything about her, and I want to.

“What about your mom?” I remark, trying to keep my voice casual, not to make it too obvious that I’m delving for more information about her. “Are the two of you close?”

She nods—but then shakes her head.

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