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How had Lizzie managed, alone, pregnant and in school? Was there debt? He’d settle that immediately.
Had she been all alone at the birth?
How long did it take an infant to eat?
He gave it half an hour, pacing back and forth between Lizzie’s apartment and the coffee shop they’d frequented, last year and this.
She’d called him after he’d left her last year.
Because of Stella.
He was a father.
His mom and dad were grandparents.
Oh, God.
He couldn’t think of them right now. Couldn’t think of the family.
He was the youngest son, and the first to produce an heir to the family fortune. The thought gave him a stupid little thrill.
It lasted all of two seconds and then the sick feeling of dread, accompanied by a weight he had no idea how to carry, descended on him again. Accompanied by just a hint of something more.
Something...beyond good. It was nebulous. Completely out of reach. But hanging there.
He was a father. Forevermore there’d be another human being in the world that he’d helped create.
With Lizzie.
His yearning had become his coparent.
Who wanted nothing to do with him. Wanted nothing from him.
In fact, she wanted him out of her life. And Stella’s, too.
Nolan wanted to give her whatever she wanted, but he couldn’t walk away from them. Maybe physically he could put distance between them. Maybe. But they were his responsibility. His family now. And family was everything.
As that one thought settled, he headed back up to Lizzie’s door. When she answered his knock, almost immediately, holding his sleeping daughter, he didn’t hesitate as he said, “We need to talk.”
As though she’d expected him, maybe had even been watching for him, she nodded, pulled open the door and settled back in her chair in the living room, tucking her bare feet up into the cushion with her.
“Do you need to put her down?” he asked.
That small bundle, the sweet pudgy face with closed eyes and that tiny little puckered mouth—it made him speechless. And he had a lot he had to say.
“She’ll sleep better if I hold her,” Lizzie said. He had no idea if she was speaking the truth, half wondered if holding the baby gave her some kind of edge over him, and figured, if it did, she deserved it.
“She looks perfect,” he said, dropping back down to the edge of the couch, his hands on his thighs. They seemed out of place, having nowhere to hang. Nothing to do.
They were too empty.
And easier to focus on than anything else in that room.
“She is perfect.” The love in Lizzie’s voice was audible.
And heartrending. He’d lost his chance to be a part of this little trio from the beginning. To be a partner to her in bringing their child into the world. She’d called him and he’d made himself completely unattainable.
“So...she’s healthy? There were no problems? With her birth, I mean. Or the pregnancy?”
