Page 105 of Paternal Instincts
Before Quaid could ask another question, the waiting room door opened, and Bess poked her head in, looking gray and tired. She wrungher hands and scanned the faces in the room before speaking. “The baby is here. It’s a boy, and they took him to the NIC unit. Three pounds and one ounce.”
No one spoke, but at that moment, I witnessed Quaid’s panicked realization that we were supposed to be somewhere else.
Chapter 23
Quaid
“I’m an idiot,” I said as I ran toward the administration desk on the labor and delivery floor.
Aslan kept pace that time, not allowing me to outrun him. “You’re not. You’re caught up in a case.”
“I should be caught up in having a baby.” At the desk, I asked the woman behind the computer if Bryn McMillan had checked in.
She spent a second typing and squinting through a pair of readers before offering a warm smile. “Room 501B down that way.” She gestured to a hallway on the opposite side of the ward where we’d been.
I took off, but Aslan caught my arm to slow me down. “Breathe, Quaid. She’s in labor and needs us to be calm, not frantic.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re frantic. Stop for a second. Relax.”
Stilling, I tried taking Aslan’s advice but couldn’t stop my heart racing. I could barely think in a straight line. The case had broken open at the worst possible time, and I needed to call Jordyn to find outif they had located Flynn or Nixon. Was Crowley safe? Unharmed? Alive?
The horrific nature of Odelia’s revelation had yet to sink in, but the pieces were clicking. What a horrible thing to cover up. It made me sick to think a parent would choose money over their daughter’s well-being. Thirteen was not old enough to consent. Diane should have fought for Imogen. Protected her.
The unfolding years from then until now had likely been tainted. Did she love Nixon? Was Flynn still manipulating her? Was her silence born out of fear? Self-preservation? Love?
I still didn’t know how or why Clementine was entwined in all this, but she and Imogen were unavailable to ask. Although I didn’t have proof, I suspected Imogen was responsible for putting her ex-nanny in the hospital.
“Your head is still racing,” Aslan said, bringing me back to the present and kissing my temple.
“Absorbing.”
“Let it go. You can’t take on the world right now.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“I know.” He held my hand and rubbed his thumb along the surface. “Try. For our baby. For Bryn.”
He was right. I spent another second finding stability and letting the case move into the background. Once Aslan recognized I was ready, he led me to Bryn.
Some rooms on the ward were designed as labor rooms, and others were strictly for delivery. The one Bryn occupied functioned as both. She wouldn’t need to be moved when the time came to push the baby out.
The door was propped open, and inside, a smiling Bryn reclined in a padded chair, chatting cheerily with her brother and his partner. Aslan knocked lightly on the frame, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Hey. You’re here.” Bryn excitedly waved us in. She was perky and rosy-cheeked, not at all like I imagined a woman in labor might appear. It helped to bring down my stress another few notches.
“Sorry we’re late.” I kissed her cheek, and Aslan did the same.
“You’re not late. You remember my brother, Arden, and his partner, Iggy?”
I did. We had met the couple once before during one of Bryn’s late-term appointments after she’d relocated to Toronto. We exchanged hellos and handshakes.
“We’ll leave you in their capable hands,” Arden said to his sister. “We won’t be far.” Bryn’s brother kissed her forehead and promised to check in again soon.
Iggy and Aslan exchanged fist bumps.
I got a pat on the shoulder and a quiet “Congratulations” from Arden’s partner. He was a kind and caring man, and it didn’t surprise me that he worked as a paramedic. It suited what I knew about him.
