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“I’m not going to wake him.” Esme wiped a hand over her cheeks. “It’s getting late, and I need time to think. I’ll call County Hospital in the morning and—”
“They’ll have an answer for you,” Bea assured her. “One that explains all of this. Do you want me to stay? I can sleep in the spare bedroom so you’re not alone.”
“Thanks, but it’s okay. I’m fine.” And even though Bea sat beside her, Esme had never felt more alone.
They talked for a few more minutes, then after another long hug, Bea left, and Esme walked up the stairs and slipped into Chase’s nursery.
The crib was lit by the soft glow of a night-light plugged into the wall, and she pressed a hand over her mouth to keep in the cries that threatened to escape.
Her sweet boy slept peacefully on his back, swaddled in a cotton blanket her grandmother had sent after his birth. He looked like a baby burrito, and Esme sank onto the carpet next to the crib, content to watch his chest rise and fall. Chase was her son, she reminded herself.
No test results or mix-up in a lab would change that. Tomorrow, she’d go to the hospital and demand an explanation. Standing up for herself didn’t come easily to Esme, but she’d do anything for her baby boy.
After a while, exhaustion got the best of her, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the nursery. She grabbed a blanket and a pillow from the glider in the corner to arrange a makeshift bed on the floor. Then she closed her eyes and commanded her heart to remember that Chase belonged to her—forever.
Chapter Two
Ryder Hayes was determined to be a calm, organized, totally together single dad to his three-month-old son, Noah.
Just not this particular morning.
After staying up past his embarrassingly early bedtime last night to wash and dry dirty bottles, fold laundry and pack his son’s extra clothes for the babysitter, he’d almost made it out the door on time.
Then Noah had a diaper blowout—all over Ryder’s crisp white button-down. Weren’t diapers supposed to hold in the poop? Ryder’s baby seemed to be a master at pooping sideways, diagonally and with the force of Old Faithful erupting.
Thirty minutes after his planned departure, Ryder clicked Noah’s infant seat into the base in the back of his car and headed toward the house of the older woman who watched him daily.
Anna Mitchell was an absolute angel, and he honestly didn’t know how he’d manage without her. Although he’d offered to marry his late ex-girlfriend, Stephanie, after discovering she was pregnant, she had wanted nothing to do with marriage—or motherhood, as it turned out.
He shook his head, committed to believing that if a car accident hadn’t taken her life a few weeks after Noah’s birth, she would have eventually warmed to the idea of being a mom.
From the moment Noah’s tiny hand curled around Ryder’s finger in the hospital, he’d been a goner—completely smitten with his son. Too bad that loving a baby didn’t intrinsically equate to knowing how to care for one. Ryder was doing his best, but most days, it felt like his life was on the brink of collapse in almost all areas.
Speaking of collapse...
He grabbed his phone from where he’d tossed it on the passenger seat, ready to call his father and offer a better excuse than a diaper blowout for why he would be late to the meeting with Hayes Enterprises’ senior management team along with several key investors. After deciding to retire in this small town, his dad had made plans to move the headquarters for their family’s portfolio of private social clubs and resorts to Chatelaine. Chandler Hayes was ready to give up running the mini empire he’d built but refused to relinquish complete control.
The question was whether Dad would be handing over the reins to Ryder or his brother, Brandon, who was a chip off the old womanizing block and seemed to relish Ryder’s struggle to balance his work duties with fatherhood.
Noah’s uncle Brandon would have laughed his butt off at the diaper emergency, only Ryder would keep that debacle to himself. Because anything that revealed a perceived weakness could and would be used against him, and he had a son to care for now, entirely on his own. He needed this promotion.
Before he could place the call, his phone began to ring. He answered, his heart pounding as he listened to the hospital administrator’s cryptic request that he bring Noah to the facility immediately for an urgent meeting with the hospital’s attorney.
An attorney—what the hell was that about?
The woman, who identified herself as County Hospital’s chief executive, refused to answer the questions Ryder fired off and insisted everything would be explained in person.
His mind raced as he turned the car around and quickly called his father’s assistant to explain that an emergency would prevent him from attending the board meeting. Cynthia’s voice was tight as she promised to relay the message, and he knew it was cowardly not to call his dad or Brandon directly, but he had more important things to worry about.
Nothing took precedence over Noah, and the fear pounding through Ryder refused to abate no matter how many times he reminded himself that though he might not have a handle on parenthood, Noah was his son. No one could take that away from him.
But what if Steph’s family wanted to try? He assured himself they wouldn’t have contacted the hospital. That didn’t make sense. None of it made sense, but Ryder would figure it out. He glanced into the rearview mirror and took a deep breath.
Noah had drifted off to sleep, which he often did in the car, blissfully unaware that his daddy was having a slight panic attack in the front seat.
Ryder stiffened his jaw. He would protect his son no matter what this impromptu meeting threw his way. He might not be confident in his skills as a parent, but he would do anything for his child.
Esme stared out the window in the empty conference room next to the administrator’s office at County Hospital, hoping the view of the outside world would calm her nerves.
