Page 129 of Dirty Pool

His son swaddled in light blue, and his wife holding the baby close to her chest where she sat on the edge of the hospital bed. He didn’t remember how he crossed the room, but the next thing he knew, little Antony was in Michel’s arms, and he was kissing the top of his wife’s head.

“I’m sorry,” he heard himself say.

Gabbie shook her head. “Don’t ever be sorry for that, Michel.”

The patient was still alive. After twenty-four hours, Michel had to go back in for another twenty-four-hour shift. He knew he should put those thoughts aside, so he did for the moment. It allowed him to focus on the baby in his arms as he settled into a chair in the corner of the room.

Antony slept on.

God, he was small.

Peach and cream skin.

“He looks like you,” Gabbie said in the background.

He did.

Michel whispered, “I know. He’s perfect, Gabbie.”

And then he fell asleep like that, reclined on the chair with his newborn son tucked safely into his arms. He didn’t wake up again until the baby needed to feed, and it was only long enough to hear his father tell someone that a visitor would be arriving soon.

Who the hell was coming?

It could be anybody.

Their family was huge.

It was not who Michel expected.

• • •

“Da,” Gabbie whispered.

Michel’s back stiffened at his wife’s soft exclamation, and he spun fast on his heels to find a man he never expected to see again standing in the doorway of the hospital room. Another three hours, and Michel would have to head back to the hospital he worked at across the city.

Seeing Charles Casey standing there made him want to say fuck those plans in a big way. It was hard for Michel to feel like … he could trust Charles, not after everything. The man had promised, as he said, Gabbie was “dead to me.”

Exact words.

And yet, there he stood.

Next to Dante.

Michel gave his father a look, and subtly moved sideways to stand in front of his wife and child. “What is he doing here?”

“Michel, now—”

“No, I asked a fucking question.”

Dante cleared his throat. “This is his grandchild, too. His only grandchild, and that woman is his only child, Michel. I extended the gracious offer when I first got the call that Gabbie was in labor for him to … make his way here and share in this joy with the rest of us. If, of course, we were all willing to let the bygones be bygones. That’s what good men do, son.”

Michel was a good man.

He still didn’t like this.

“It’s been almost ten years,” Charles said, “and I would like it if it wasn’t one more, lad.”

“Michel,” Gabbie said behind him.