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“Your daughter. She and I work at the hospital together.”
Audrey’s eyes closed and Stone thought she’d fallen back asleep, but she opened them and glared. “I-If you th-think sh-she’ll t-take you b-back, y-you’re wr-wrong.”
Stone wasn’t sure who she meant, but didn’t speak, just waited to see if she’d say more and hoped she didn’t become agitated to where he’d need to wake Carly.
When her gaze met his, tears shone. “D-don’t l-leave me a-again.”
Her request didn’t fit her previous comment, but Stone took her tremoring hand into his. “I’m here, Audrey.”
“I—I knew y-you w-would ch-change your m-mind.”
“About?”
“Our b-baby. I’m p-pregnant.”
She thought he was Carly’s father. Stone wasn’t sure what to say or do, so he held her hand until, murmuring about their future life together, she fell asleep.
Then he held her frail, shaking hand longer.
Memories hit him.
Once upon a time, he’d been no better than Carly’s father. Oh, he’d married Stephanie, had insisted upon helping her, but she hadn’t wanted his help or anything else from him.
Yeah, he had some hefty baggage of his own that he didn’t think Carly was likely to understand.
* * *
Carly woke with a start, letting her eyes adjust to the low light, realizing she’d fallen asleep on her living-room sofa.
What had she been doing…? Stone had been massaging her neck and she’d gone to sleep. Stone. She smiled at the joy that swelled in her heart when she thought of him.
Where was he?
She glanced at her watch, strained to read the time.
Panic hit her. Almost five a.m. Soon her watch alarm would be going off to wake her to leave for the hospital.
She had to draw her mother’s labs, get a urine sample even if it meant catheterizing her mother, plus, get to the hospital early to drop off the samples to the lab.
Her mother! She’d not checked on her or changed her adult diaper or given her feeding-tube meal or… Guilt hit her as she jumped from the sofa.
Recalling all the insurance claims she’d not done from the night before, she winced. She needed those claims. No, not needed. She had to have them. How was she going to pay Joyce when she failed to do her work?
What had she done? Gone to sleep as if she didn’t have a care in the world. How could she have fallen asleep?
Maybe she could get a few claims cleared out in the thirty or so minutes before she had to jump into the shower. Tonight, she’d have to stay on task and get lots done even if it meant not sleeping. Maybe she could work extra over the next pay period, balance things until that check came in, and somehow not go under. Maybe. After the almost nine hours she’d slept she ought to be rested up enough to pull an all-nighter.
As quietly as she could, she made her way to her mother’s bedroom and stopped in shock in the doorway.
The small bedside lamp was on, casting a golden hue around the room. Her mother slept peacefully.
So did Stone.
His large body was stretched out in the rocking chair, his head leaned back, and his breathing even and steady.
He’d stayed? She’d automatically assumed he’d left after she’d fallen asleep.
Why had he gone to her mother’s room?
Had her mother awakened and Carly slept through it?
More guilt hit her. How could she have allowed this to happen?
Even worse, how was she going to get her laptop without waking him up?
Without waking him up? She needed to wake him up. He couldn’t be there when Joyce arrived. No way.
Never would she be able to explain away his presence overnight.
Yes, she was a grown woman and could do what she wanted, but Joyce was an old-fashioned woman, which Carly loved about her. Her mother’s caretaker would not approve of Stone having spent the night, four desserts or not. Plus, there was that worrying-about-her thing that Joyce did—which hadn’t she acknowledged the night before was a good thing?
There were downsides to someone worrying about you. Like a responsibility to not do things that made them worry.
She reached out and touched Stone’s shoulder. “Stone? Wake up.”
Although appearing groggy, he opened his eyes and immediately smiled. “Good morning, Beautiful.”
Good grief. First thing in the morning, her highly stressed, and his smile still rocked her world.
Which was scary.
And unacceptable because look at what had happened the night before.
“You have to leave,” she told him in as low a whisper as she could with hopes of still being heard. The last thing she needed was to wake her mother.
“What time is it?” To his credit, his voice was equally low.
She told him. “Please. You have to leave. Before Momma wakes and definitely before Joyce gets here.”
