Rags To Riches Collection. Rebecca WintersЧитать онлайн книгу.
eyes met. His were sunk into weary shadows—the eyes of a man who’d spent some sleepless nights. A worried man, unsure, perhaps, for the first time in his life.
For the space of a breath his big hand lingered on her hip. As if suddenly aware, he pulled it away and took her arm. “Let’s go inside,” he said.
Leigh was familiar with the hospital, a sprawling one-story maze of wings and hallways. Having visited several friends there, she knew her way to the maternity ward. “Were you here when the baby was born?” she asked as Wyatt walked beside her.
“I was wrapping up a meeting and missed the delivery, but I saw Chloe in recovery. They’d given her an epidural for the birth. She was still groggy when I left. She probably won’t even remember I was there.”
Leigh glanced down a side hall where the nursery windows were located. She was hoping to see the baby for a moment, but Wyatt kept walking on down the corridor, checking the room numbers. He paused outside a door that was slightly ajar. “I guess this is it.”
“Go on in,” Leigh said. “I’ll wait out here until you’re ready to introduce me.”
Murmuring his thanks, he squared his shoulders, knocked lightly on the door and stepped into the room.
* * *
Chloe was sitting up in bed, peering into a small, round mirror as she dabbed mascara onto her eyelashes. With her mop of auburn curls, she looked like a little girl playing with her mom’s makeup. How could this child be a mother?
“Hello, sweetheart,” he said.
“Hello, Daddy.” Her voice was edgy. The bouquet of pink roses he’d sent earlier had been shoved into a space above the sink.
Wyatt cleared his throat. “I’m told you have a beautiful little boy. How are you feeling?”
“How do you think?” She twisted the top onto the mascara tube. “I texted my friends. They’re coming by to see the baby. His name’s Michael, by the way. Mikey for now.”
“Did you call your mother?”
She shrugged. “I sent a text. She’s on her way to New York with Andre. He has some kind of gallery show.”
“So she’s not coming to see the baby?”
“Why should she? Mom’s still in denial about being a grandma. Anyway, who needs her?” Chloe fished a lipstick out of her purse and swiped the burgundy hue onto her cupid’s bow mouth.
Wyatt lowered himself onto a handy chair. “We need to talk, Chloe.”
“What’s to talk about?” She looked at him warily, as if bracing herself for a fight. “You already know I’m going to keep him.”
Yes, she’d made that completely clear, despite his many arguments against it. But he wouldn’t rehash that now, not when he could see how tired she looked. “I understand. And I hope you know that you and Mikey will have a home with me for as long as you need it. But what about the rest? Have you ever taken care of a baby?”
Her sky-blue eyes cast him a blank look.
“For starters...” He wrestled with the delicate question that needed to be asked. “How are you going to feed him?”
Her eyes widened. “You mean, am I...? OMG, no way! I’m not going around with saggy boobs for the rest of my life—and I do plan to have a life, Daddy. I want my baby, but you can’t expect me to sit home with him all the time. As soon as you buy me a car, I’m going to—”
“The car can wait.” It was all Wyatt could do to keep from snapping at her. “Meanwhile you’ve got a child to take care of. Do you even know how to change a diaper?”
She stared at him as if he’d just climbed out of a flying saucer.
“Goodness, Daddy. What do you think we’re getting a nanny for?”
* * *
Waiting outside the half-opened door, Leigh heard everything. Wyatt had given her an inkling of what to expect. Now the impact of what she’d be dealing with smacked her full in the face. She could see what he’d meant when he’d said she’d have two children in her care. And Chloe sounded like a handful. Only the thought of the baby kept her from turning around and walking out of the hospital.
Seconds later he reappeared in the doorway, his face a mask of frustration. “Sorry you had to hear that,” he muttered.
“It’s just as well that I did.” Following his lead, she allowed him to usher into the room. Chloe was sitting up against the pillows. Even in the drab hospital gown she looked like a petite little doll with Shirley Temple curls and china-blue eyes—almost as blue as her father’s.
“Chloe,” Wyatt said, “this is Miss Foster. Unless you have some objection, I plan on asking her to become your son’s nanny.”
The girl scrutinized her carefully. Leigh wondered what she was looking for. Chloe seemed to be wondering the same thing as uncertainty passed over her face. She stole a glance at her father, but he seemed to be replying to a message on his phone. “Fine,” the girl said, clearly trying too hard to sound authoritative. “She’ll do.”
“Thank you.” The less said, the better, Leigh resolved.
Chloe glanced toward the door, where the nurse had appeared with a blue-wrapped bundle. “I hope you’re not staying much longer,” she said. “My friends are coming over to see Mikey, and they’ll be here any minute.”
“We were just about to leave.” Wyatt eased toward the door as the nurse entered.
“Wait!” Leigh said, seizing the moment. “Since I’ll be helping with your baby, Chloe, would you mind if I held him for a minute?”
“Whatever.”
Leigh felt her heart drop as the nurse placed the warm bundle in her arms. He felt so tiny, almost weightless. Scarcely daring to breathe, she pulled down the edge of the blanket to reveal the small, rosebud face. Little Mikey was beautiful, with his mother’s blue eyes and russet curls. But it was his other features she looked for and found—the aquiline nose and square chin, the ears that didn’t quite lie flat, the dark, straight brows—all coming together in one perfect package.
Leigh fought back welling tears. There could be no more doubt. She was holding her brother’s child.
With her emotions on the brink of spilling over, Leigh turned toward Wyatt. “Time for you two to get acquainted,” she said, thrusting the blue bundle toward him.
He seemed to hesitate. Then his big hands took the slight weight, holding the child away from his body like a jar of live honeybees. His expression was a stoic mask. Leigh stifled her dismay. Wyatt hadn’t asked for this little boy to come into his life, she reminded herself. Still it wouldn’t hurt for him to show some affection. How could anyone with a soul not love a baby?
Leigh noticed that Chloe was focused on the sight of her son in her father’s arms as well, but Chloe’s expression was difficult to read. Sadness? Wistfulness? Worry? Envy? Dismay? Maybe all of the above—or maybe none of them. Whatever she was feeling, she didn’t say a word. Leigh sighed, the task before her looming like a mountain. It wouldn’t be easy, maybe not even possible. But in the time allowed, she would do her best to help these people become a family.
* * *
Wyatt gazed down at the tiny face. The eyes that looked up at him were blue like Chloe’s, but with an openly trusting quality to them that Chloe’s hadn’t held in years. He saw his daughter in the wispy amber curls and full, heart-shaped mouth. But some features were unfamiliar. The unknown boy, who’d taken what he wanted without a second thought, had left traces of himself, too.
The boy who’d derailed Chloe’s young life.