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"I hope you’re giving her a ‘push gift’ that makes up for everything she went through." I narrow my gaze on him.
Summer laughs. "This" —she glances at the baby— "is enough of a gift. I don’t need anything else."
Sinclair rubs his cheek on her hair. "You know I’d pluck the moon from the sky and place it at your feet if I could, baby. You showed me what it means to feel. Without you, I was lurching from one disaster in life to the next. Then you came along and taught me what it is to belong. I love you, Summer."
"Aww," Summer raises her head for a kiss.
I look away and my gaze clashes with Hunter, who’s been standing on the opposite side of the bed.
All of the others came by and saw the baby in pairs, so as not to crowd the newborn, until it was only Hunter and me. When we were ushered in together, I didn’t protest. It seemed silly to say I’d go in separately. But being here with him, and watching Summer and Sinclair cuddle as they enjoy their first few moments as a family with the baby is, somehow, more difficult than I expected.
"Do you want to hold him?" Summer’s voice interrupts my thoughts.
"But he’s just been born." I blink.
Summer laughs and holds him in my direction. My stomach coils in on itself. I glance blindly in Hunter’s direction.
He must sense my panic, for he steps forward. "I’ll take him." He scoops up the little bundle from Summer and cuddles the baby close to his chest. The sight of the tiny infant against his big broad chest as he holds him carefully is unexpectedly poignant and hot. So hot. I’ve never found the sight of men carrying babies sexy, until now. For that matter, I’ve never consciously gravitated toward babies.
I have friends who’ve been obsessed with their biological clock and swore they needed to have children to feel complete, but I’ve never been like that. Maybe it’s because I had to be the strong one in my family, and was used to taking on responsibility from a very young age. Or it's because my father always encouraged me to be independent. Because I wanted to break stereotypes from the time I was little. Because I had to protect my twin brother and be strong for him. Because I was so focused on my career.
Either way, having children has never been a priority for me. So why am I so shaken at seeing Hunter with a baby? Why is my mouth dry, my stomach churning, and my heart pumping so hard, I’m sure it’s going to break through my ribcage? "Excuse me." I rise to my feet and stumble toward the door.
12
Hunter
"Zara, wait!" I hand the baby over to Summer and follow Zara out of the hospital room. One second she was fine. The next, she jumped to her feet and bolted for the door. I’m not sure what upset her, but I plan to get to the bottom of it.
She hustles down the corridor and toward the waiting room at the far end. By the time I enter the space, she’s standing by the window looking out.
"What’s wrong?" I draw abreast with her, but she refuses to look at me. "Zara, why are you upset?"
"I’m not upset," she says in a hard voice. But when I try to peer into her face, she looks away.
"You are definitely upset." I step around her, and she instantly looks the other way again.
"Zara… Fire."
"Stop already with your silly nicknames. Especially when you don’t mean it," she bursts out.
"How do you know I don’t mean it?"
"If you did, you wouldn’t have just disappeared after the last time we met. Not a message, not a phone call, not even a goddamn dick pic."
I stifle a chuckle. "Do you want me to send you a dick pic?"
"No. I don’t want anything to do with you. Can’t you get that through your thick skull?"
"And yet, you’re pissed off at me because I wasn’t in touch with you."
"I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at myself." She locks her hands together in front of herself.
"And I’m trying to figure out why that is."
"I don’t need to tell you anything." She pulls out a handkerchief from her handbag and dabs under her eyes.
"Zara, baby, don’t cry. Please." I grip her shoulder and turn her to face me, but she averts her gaze. "Please, tell me what set you off. Please?"
