Page 80 of Wait for Him

“I hope, when the day comes that I need it, and I probably will, you'll find some way to forgive me. You should've been born out of love, James. You deserved that much before you ever got here, and instead you were born out of the worst thing that's ever happened to me. None of that is your fault. I need you to know that, even if I'm the only one who ever hears me say it.”

His fingers stay curled around mine while I stare at the little face I've spent months refusing to imagine.

“I will never regret you.”

That part comes easily.

It's the first thing about any of this that does.

“Not for one second. You're the one good thing that came out of the worst night of my life, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that yet, so I'm going to let Samson and Lauren do what I know they can do better than I can right now. They're going to love the absolute shit out of you.”

Another tear slides down my face and lands on the blanket.

“You'll always be my one good thing.”

I don't know how much time passes before the nurse returns. Long enough that my arm has started to ache beneath his weight, long enough that I've memorized the little noises he makes in his sleep and the way his mouth moves when he roots against me, but nowhere near long enough for what comes next.

I know what time it is anyway.

So I gather whatever is left of myself together and carefully loosen his tiny fingers from mine before handing him over as gently as I can.

“Don't bring him back,” I tell her. My voice is steadier than I feel. “His parents will pick him up when he's ready to be discharged.”

She pauses, clearly confused, but whatever she sees on my face keeps her from asking the question.

Thank God for small mercies.

I watch her wheel my son toward the door and make myself memorize him while I still can: the round cheeks, the tiny nose, the dark hair and that streak of white that belongs to me whether either of us ever says so out loud.

The door starts to swing shut behind them, and for one terrifying second every part of me wants to call her back.

I keep my mouth closed and watch until the last edge of the bassinet disappears from view.

Then the door closes.

And I understand, finally, what Lauren meant when she said the wanting would come.

Chapter Five

Jackson

“How is it only Tuesday?” Emily asks, dropping the latest Meridian file onto my desk. The tenth one they've sent over today.

“It's cruel, is what it is.”

“Want me to have Mr. Sullivan hunted down and properly chastised?” she asks with a smile.

Emily is sixty-eight years old and built like she could bench-press half the executive floor. Competitive bodybuilder in her off-hours, trophies, spray tan, the whole production. She can give me a run for my money on the treadmill and has, more times than my ego cares to count.

“Properly chastised meaning kick his ass?”

“What other kind of punishment is there?”

I laugh and close the file in front of me. “Go home, Emily. It's past nine. My driver will take you.”

“That's kind of you, Mr. Jackson. Thank you. See you in the morning.”

“Night, Em.”