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Lily lifted her chin a defiant notch. ‘I did what I thought was right at the time.’ Not long ago she had had no doubts that her choice was the right one. Now...she thought again of his face, the pain and regret she had seen in his eyes.
She pushed away the guilt, but it resisted. There was no escaping it—she’d been wrong.
‘And there’s no going back. This is the way it is.’ She wished she could feel as hard and practical as she sounded.
‘We should talk.’ Because the world carried on, life carried on. Even when just down the corridor the baby he had fathered fought for her life. ‘The lawyers have drawn up a trust fund for your approval.’ A spasm of self-loathing crossed his face and he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. ‘God, that must sound incredibly crass of me, talking about money when—’
‘No!’ she cut in. ‘You’re talking about Emmy’s future...you believe she has one.’ She gave him a watery smile of gratitude and Ben felt something in his chest tighten.
He studied her face. ‘But maybe this can wait till later?’
Lily nodded. ‘Mum is heading back home to pick up some things. Everything happened in such a rush, she’s worn the things she has on for two days straight, and Emmy has forgotten Timmy. Her teddy bear,’ she explained, catching his look. ‘I should get back to relieve her.’ She glanced at the clock on the wall above the doorframe just as a couple came in. She had seen them before. The woman was weeping on the shoulder of her husband, whose face was grey and strained.
The stab of sheer visceral fear made Lily oblivious to the hot liquid she spilled down her front. She stood blinking as the empty cup was prised from her hand.
‘Come on.’ There was no resistance in her trembling body as Ben urged her from the room. As he reached the door his glance connected with the husband of the weeping woman. The level of understanding in that look brought the situation sharply into focus...he might lose a daughter he had not known he had.
Lily looked at the tissue extended to her and shook her head, clinging to her self-control with the grim determination of a drowning man grabbing a lifeline. ‘It’s fine...’ She dug her teeth down hard into her trembling lower lip. ‘I’m not going to cry.’
‘Maybe you should,’ Ben roughed out, fighting off the protective feelings her delicacy and distress had shaken loose inside him. It mingled with the ever-present lust—the combination was one short teeth-grinding step from insanity. ‘There’s nothing wrong with letting go.’ Good advice, he told himself, thinking of the anger he had nursed towards Lily, now recognising it for what it was—a self-indulgence for which he didn’t have the time or energy to spare. ‘It would be some sort of outlet,’ he told her evenly. ‘You’re carrying around a lot of stress.’
The comment brought her chin up with an angry jerk. Her green eyes blazed. ‘My daughter, my beautiful baby daughter who has never done anything to anyone, never had a mean thought in her life, is fighting for her life. Stress? Yes, I suppose you could say that!’ She stopped, her chest heaving, and pressed a hand to her mouth. ‘Sorry, I... Sorry, it’s not your fault—’ She gritted her teeth over a gulping sob.
He had reared back as though struck when she’d begun to yell, but when the first tear fell his anger had melted away. ‘It’s nobody’s fault, Lily.’
He touched her shoulder and with a lost little cry that he felt at a cellular level she pressed her face into his chest. ‘I should have known,’ she wailed. A moment later she was straightening up, wiping her face with the backs of both hands and shaking her head. ‘I am so sorry. You don’t want to hear this.’
‘This is my child too.’ Head back, he dragged a hand through his hair, missing her wince. ‘This place...’ His blue eyes brushed her face. ‘I’m not keen on hospitals. I could do with some fresh air. So could you.’
If she got any paler she could have been taken for a ghost. Except ghosts didn’t have hair like fire. His eyes followed the sweep of the glorious curls over her slender shoulders and down her back. The inevitable warmth in his belly, the hot charge that zigzagged through his body, was mingled with a less explicable tenderness—she looked so damn fragile it hurt.
He couldn’t explain it. God knew he was no white knight, but maybe there was a part of him that was pre-programmed to respond to that vulnerability.
Lily, who hadn’t even looked in a mirror for two days, was suddenly conscious of how awful she must look. The coffee stains added the finishing touch.
