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Amy knew he was being eminently sensible. But forty-eight hours’ worth of post-birth hormones didn’t care. ‘I need to see my son.’
Something washed over Lincoln’s face. Guilt. Why did he feel guilty? ‘I know you do, Amy.’ His hand was still pressed next to hers. ‘Let me see what I can arrange. I promise you’ll see your son soon.’
For a second she thought he was going to bend over and kiss her. But he hesitated midway across the bed, pulling back and heading out the door in his green scrubs.
And that’s when the floodgates opened.
* * *
Two hours later she was ensconced in a side room. Lincoln pushed the neonate crib into the room and Amy’s breath caught in her throat. Her son.
That tiny little scrap she could see through the plastic was hers. Her baby. Wrapped in a pale blue blanket with a tiny knitted cap on his head. Fists punching angrily in the air. And a tiny plastic tube coming from his nose and taped to the side of his cheek.
Her breast ached. She wanted to feed her baby. She wanted to feel his little body next to hers. She could feel her lips tremble as Lincoln lifted him out of the crib and handed him to her.
Zachary gave a little groan and snuggled towards her—a natural response. She felt transfixed. His little eyes were screwed up, his skin pale just like hers, a few tiny strands of dark hair on his head. The wrinkled forehead smoothed out and his eyes blinked open, staring upright straight into her eyes. Her heart gave a little flutter at the blue eyes, then she realised that all babies were born with blue eyes. His eye colour could change over the next year. The thought brought a little smile to her face.
The next year. She was going to spend all that time with her son. She might have missed the first few days but there was nothing to stop her now. A little warmth spread across her chest. She lifted her finger and stroked it down her son’s button nose. He was all hers. Six years she’d waited for this moment, and now she finally had her child in her arms.
Lincoln shifted his feet beside her, obviously not wanting to interrupt her first few moments with her son. She blinked back the tears forming in her eyes. ‘Thank you for looking after him,’ she whispered.
He looked uncomfortable. He sat down in the chair next to her bed, bringing him level with her. ‘I need to tell you something.’
‘What?’ She couldn’t take her eyes from her son.
‘I couldn’t do what you wanted me to.’
Cassidy’s words started to float around her brain again. This time, though, they started to register. Something about Lincoln not being her baby’s doctor…
She found the little hospital band attached to his tiny wrist and rotated it. Baby Carson. Three pounds eight ounces. And his date of birth. Dr Lomax. Who was Dr Lomax?
A surge of anger struck her. Her cold stare fixed on Lincoln. ‘What is it you want to tell me, Lincoln?’
She could see the pain on his face. This wasn’t easy for him—but right now she didn’t care. She’d asked him to do one thing for her. One thing. She’d travelled miles to find him, to find the best doctor to look after her son—and now this.
He ran his fingers through his hair the way he always did when he was nervous. ‘I’m really sorry, Amy. This is all my fault. I should have kept a better eye on you—I shouldn’t have taken you out to dinner. This would never have happened if I’d kept in the role I should have—as the doctor for your son.’ He shook his head and lifted his eyes to meet hers. ‘But I just couldn’t.’
Amy took a breath. The air felt tight in her chest. ‘What do you mean, this is all your fault? How is any of this your fault? Lincoln, you let me stay in your apartment—you drove me to hospital every day, how can you possibly think this is your fault?’
‘Your headache. You told me you had a headache and I ignored the signs, something a doctor on his game would never have done. I could have got you to hospital sooner. I should have been paying attention.’
She shook her head. ‘I should have paid more attention. Not you. I’d had that headache all day, but I thought it was nothing. Cassidy warned me—she gave me a list of signs and symptoms to look out for, and told me to come straight back to hospital if I developed any of them. But it seemed so mild, so subtle. It didn’t even start to bother me until later in the day. I honestly thought it was just a headache. I never thought it would lead to this.’ She glanced down at the bundle in her arms. ‘Do you honestly think I would have put my son at risk? The headache was so mild that I hadn’t even thought about taking anything until we were out. Up until then it really felt like nothing.’
The lines in his forehead were deeper than normal. She was doing nothing to alleviate his guilt. What else did he want to tell her?
Lincoln leaned forward in the chair, resting his arms on the side of her bed. ‘When I saw you seizing…it was the worst five minutes of my life. By the time we got here and stabilised you then made the decision to take you to Theatre, I knew I couldn’t be Zach’s doctor.’
‘What do you mean, you couldn’t be my son’s doctor?’ Her voice had a cold, hard edge to it. ‘It was the one thing I asked you to do for me, Lincoln. It was the only thing I asked you to do for me.’
‘I know, I know.’ The anguish in his voice was apparent, and she knew he was struggling to find the words.
‘Who is Dr Lomax, Lincoln?’
‘He’s my colleague. My friend—someone I would trust with my child’s life. As soon as I held Zach in my arms in Theatre, I knew I had to get someone else to do the job. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t think like a doctor while I was looking at him. I couldn’t be the professional that I needed to be. I couldn’t step back and see the wider picture. All I could see was the woman I loved lying on the operating table and her twenty-nine-week-old son in my hands. I knew I had to get someone else to do the job.’
His words hung in the air.
He loved her. He’d said it. Words that she’d been waiting to hear. So why wasn’t she jumping for joy? Why wasn’t she shouting it from the rooftops?
He was looking at her, waiting for her to respond. She tried to sort out her brain. She wanted to tell him that she loved him too. But something was stopping her. Something was pressing down on her chest, willing her not to say those words.
She kept her eyes on her baby. She didn’t want to look at those dark-rimmed blue eyes. She didn’t want them to pull her in and say something she would later regret.
Her son was staring up at her. Could he see her yet? Could he see the anguish on her face? How well could a twenty-nine-weeker see?
‘Cassidy said that you’d looked after him, that you’d done kangaroo care. That you hadn’t left his side for forty-eight hours.’
‘I couldn’t be his doctor, Amy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care—it means I care too much. I didn’t want anyone else to do his care. I wanted to be by his side. I wanted to watch over him. I wanted to feed him.’
A single tear slid down her face. It was just as she’d feared. He was professing not only his love for her but for Zach too. This should be what happy endings were about. But she still couldn’t lift her head to meet his gaze.
Her feelings for him were so strong. Since the first time she’d seen him again, all her thoughts and memories of him had increased tenfold. He was everything she could ever want.
But what did that make her to him?
She didn’t want to be his charity case. His poor ex with a baby he felt sorry for. He was feeling guilty right now. Guilt that he was confusing with love. He didn’t love her. She wasn’t the whole, healthy woman she’d been before.
She was damaged goods. Her body would never be the same again, even if she had the reconstruction surgery.
And Zach was it for her. She would never be able to have more natural kids. Her eggs were gone. Finis
hed. And Lincoln…he was just starting out. He should have a whole brood of children of his own. And a happy, healthy wife who could give them to him.
She didn’t want him to settle. She didn’t want him to settle for her and Zachary. Even though it could make her happier than she’d thought possible, she wanted him to have the chance at life that she’d missed out on.
He stood up and moved to the side of the bed, sliding his arm around her shoulders and bending over to look down at Zach. ‘Do you feel well enough to try the kangaroo care for a little while? Do you think you could manage him strapped next to your chest?’
She nodded. She couldn’t speak right now. Words were just too difficult. He’d just stood up, not waiting for a response from her. He seemed to accept that she couldn’t say the ‘I love you’ words back. What did that mean?
