Page 22 of Not the Bodyguard's Baby
“I haven’t talked to her yet. I need to know if you and your parents are ready to care for her. Your mother had PPD and thinks she knows what to watch for, some of the things we discussed in last night’s counseling.”
“Abrupt mood changes, not caring for herself or Harmony?”
“That and one of the possible side effects of the antidepressant meds she is taking is suicidal thoughts.”
“Is that some terrible irony?”
“Sadly, it is one of those two-edged swords, but the cure is worth the minimal risk. If you feel you are ready, I’ll release her tonight and give you my on-call number. Then, on Tuesday, I’d like you both to come in at nine in the morning so I can do a follow-up evaluation. I refer patients back to their ob-gyns or a more local doctor to follow up and find counseling. However, Rayne is who she is, and the fewer people in the city who know, the better.”
“Is there anything I need to bring for her release?”
“Did you bring up her personal clothing already?”
“My mother did.”
“Then make sure she has a coat. I’ll see you for your regular appointment at five.”
Adam waited until he was sitting in the car to call his mother, then he headed to the office. He wouldn’t be working this weekend after all.
* * *
Am I ready? Can I leave and be normal-ish?
The questions repeated themselves in her mind a hundred times before lunch. She nursed Harmony as the other women made their way down to the cafeteria. Twenty minutes later, her daughter fell asleep, and her lunch tray had yet to arrive, so she took her sleeping daughter to the nursery, laid her in her assigned crib, and talked with one of the caregivers. A new woman sat behind the reception desk.
“Pardon me, my lunch tray didn’t come up today.”
“I didn’t order any. What is your name?”
“Rayne.”
The woman shuffled papers. “Oh, here is the order.” She checked her computer. “It is too late for me to have it delivered, but I see you are cleared to go to the cafeteria. Why don’t you go down there? You have thirty minutes left until the parenting class starts.”
September could think of a dozen reasons why she didn’t want to go down, but her stomach was rumbling. “Sure, I’ll run down, but will you be sure to order up my dinner?”
“This isn’t the Waldorf. Not everyone gets room service.”
The comment took September a moment to process. It was the first rude thing she’d heard in days. “I am aware this isn’t a hotel, but my family therapy time is at five, and I will not have time to go down.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize. I thought you got special treatment because you are some big music star.”
A few choice words ran through September’s head. She hoped she looked confused. “I’m just a mom like everyone else. I think you may be confused.”
“Whatever. You’d better hurry.”
September hurried to the cafeteria and picked up a sandwich, apple, cookie, and milk so she wouldn’t need any utensils. After having her lunch checked twice by orderlies, she was allowed to return to her floor. She ate in her room, not wanting to experience another run-in with the receptionist.
Ready or not, Dr. Brooks was right. It was safest if she left.
* * *
Alan burst into Adam’s office and thrust his tablet across the desk. “You’ve got trouble.”
September––Bad Girl or Bad Mom?
The blurry photo showed a woman holding an infant over her shoulder. They were dressed exactly as September and Harmony had been when he’d dropped the baby off at the hospital that morning.
“The story broke in the last”—Alan checked his watch—“three minutes. So far it is only on a handful of not-so-reputable blogs. Since it violated HIPAA laws to get this photo, even the tabloids will double-check before picking this one up. But it won’t stop fans from sharing on social media.”
