[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
Chapter 176

“I… I didn’t do anything,” gasped Jamie, as the infant’s monitor sounded its alarm.

Claire couldn’t speak; she felt like gagging. Her heart racing, she turned to the monitors. She had learned, through experience, what range of numbers was normal for herself, but not for a premature baby. But when she saw a red light flashing on the pulse ox monitor, she knew what it meant – even with the ventilator, Delaine was not getting enough oxygen.

Fernanda hurried over and flipped a switch on the monitor to silence it. But the red light still flashed, even as she fumbled with the wires and probes hooked to the baby, and finally, she confirmed what Claire feared. “Her oxygen saturation – that is, the amount of oxygen in her bloodstream – is lower than we would like it to be. She’s on one hundred percent oxygen through the vent already, so I can’t increase that. I’m going to page the doctor on call to find out why she’s suddenly having more trouble breathing.”

“Dr. Connor? He spoke with me earlier,” said Claire, feeling numb as she thought back to their conversation. He had told her how Delaine was struggling… but she couldn’t believe that this could be it, that there might be nothing more they could do to help her baby.

“Dr. Connor’s off now; he left about an hour ago. Dr. Estrella is the neonatologist on call now, and I assure you, she’s very skilled. I’ll page her, but I need to ask you to please go back to your room for the time being so she can examine Delaine and run some more tests.”

Claire wanted to ask if she and Jamie could just wait off to the side, with Caitlin, but Jamie grabbed the handles of her wheelchair and pulled her out from between the twin incubators.

“I wanna go back. We can’t just leave her, Jamie,” Claire cried, as Jamie wheeled her back to her room, but she was still too weak to do much to stop him. She hated feeling so helpless, like her whole life was out of her control. She couldn’t stop her husband from taking her away from her daughters; she couldn’t help Delaine; she couldn’t even get a handle on her own emotions. Instead, the tears poured freely from her eyes the whole way back to her room.

“I hate feeling this way,” she sobbed, as Jamie dutifully helped her out of the wheelchair and back into bed.

“Shh… you’re just tired. You need to rest,” he said, patronizing her.

She smacked his hands away as he tried to pull the covers up around her. “Don’t do that,” she snapped, sniffling severely. “Don’t treat me like I’m some fragile little girl. I’m fine. It’s Cait and Lainey you need to be worrying about, not me. I’m-”

“Leaking.”

Claire was in the midst of continuing her rant when she processed what he’d said and cocked her head. “What??”

Jamie made a gesture, his eyes traveling downward to her chest. Glancing down, she groaned when she realized the front of her hospital gown was soaked through. In all the excitement, she had failed to notice she was leaking breast milk. “Damnit,” she cursed miserably, burying her face in her hands. All she wanted was to hold her babies in her arms and nurse them, the way mothers of full-term newborns got to, but her infants were too young. And it was all because of her, her and her stupid body, her crappy, leaky body, forcing them out two months too early because it couldn’t handle carrying them any longer.

“Clairie?” She felt Jamie’s hand on her shoulder, his breath near her face. “Shh, don’t cry. It’s okay; I’ll call your nurse. I’m sure she can get you another gown to put on.”

She snorted derisively at his pathetic attempts to console her. “God, Jamie, that’s not it. You think I’m crying over leaking milk? I’m not! It’s not that; it’s… it’s everything! I feel like a failure as a mother, alright? They’re not even a day old, and they’re sick, and it’s all because I couldn’t carry them long enough.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not your fault,” murmured Jamie, rubbing her shoulder.

“Maybe it is. I wanted this so bad… I ignored all of the risks.”

“Because having a baby outweighed them all, right?” said Jamie firmly, taking her chin and tipping it upwards, so that she was forced to look into his face. “Don’t tell me you regret it.”

Her stomach gave a horrible jolt at his words; how could he think that? “Of course I don’t,” she whispered. “I love them more than anything. I’d die if it meant saving either of them.”

Jamie blanched. “Well, don’t think that way. It’s gonna be alright, Clairie; I think God’s with us on this one. You got pregnant the very first time we tried the IVF. That has to mean something! They’re going to be okay. We just need to keep praying.”

Claire couldn’t believe he was being the optimistic one, but he did have a point. She nodded and finally let him hug her, her stiff body going limp in his arms. When he pulled away, the front of his shirt was moist with the leaked colostrum, and she allowed herself to crack a smile.

Jamie chuckled weakly. “Uhh, I’m gonna go towel off. I’ll see if I can track down a nurse to bring you another top.”

She nodded. “Okay. Thanks…”

“You’re welcome.” He kissed her cheek, which felt sticky with tears, and left the room quickly, leaving her to exhale the last of her emotions. Grateful for a moment of solitude, she slumped back against her pillows, feeling utterly drained. A nap might help her collect herself, she thought, but quickly nixed the idea. How could she sleep, knowing that Delaine was having trouble breathing? What if something happened while she was asleep?

She would never forgive herself.

Determined to stay awake until she knew her daughter was out of danger, she wiped her eyes and reached for a tissue to blow her nose. This quickly proved to be a mistake, as her belly hurt way too much when she tightened it to blow, so she settled for wiping her streaming nostrils instead and balled the kleenex in her fist, hoping Jamie would be back soon with a fresh gown. Maybe she would feel better once she was dry and clean.

***

Stopped at a red light halfway home from the hospital, Nick dug into his pocket for his cell phone, intending to call Laureen and see what time she wanted to get together, only to realize the phone was gone.

“Crap,” he cursed aloud, raking a hand through his hair as he did a mental inventory, trying to remember the last time he’d seen it. Well, he’d had it this morning, when Laureen had called. Knowing him, he’d walked into Claire’s hospital room with his keys and phone in hand. The keys had somehow made it back into his pocket, but not the phone, and he was willing to bet that’s where it was.

Too attached to his phone to leave it, especially on his birthday when friends might be calling, he jerked his car into the left turn lane and pulled a U-turn the first chance he got, heading back in the direction from which he had come.

With a sense of déjà vu – and for good reason – he parked in the hospital lot and made the trek into the building, wishing, for once, that he had just swallowed his pride and gotten one of those handicapped stickers for his car so that he could park in the close spots.

Slightly winded from some quick walking (though he wasn’t sure why he was in such a hurry), Nick pushed the button for the elevator and waited for it to carry him to the second floor. He may have been too proud to label himself “handicapped,” but not to take the elevator over the stairs. Stairs still weren’t his friends and never would be.

He looked around as he walked through the maternity ward on his way to Claire’s room. Of all the floors of the hospital he’d been on, this was by far the most pleasant. In most cases, the people that came here did so for good reasons, happy reasons – for pregnancies, babies, new family members and new life. He couldn’t help but smile as he caught glimpses of glowing mothers, excited fathers, nurses wheeling tiny babies in their clear bassinets.

It once would have freaked him out to be around so many pregnant woman and crying babies, but these days, it filled him with a sort of yearning. He was now twenty-nine… getting close to the big thirty… and he wanted this for himself. He was ready to settle down; he wanted a family, a wife and children, a big, close-knit clan like the one he’d grown up in, though without all the craziness.

He’d come close several times… been engaged once, almost engaged before that, and, for a few months, an expectant father. Yet here he was, years later, still unmarried and without children, his closest family four older guys that technically weren’t even related to him. And with three of his “brothers” married, two with sons of their own, Nick was starting to wonder when it would finally happen for him. He envied Brian, Kevin, and AJ for what they had, for what he’d tried to have several times and failed.

His thoughts slowed him down, but he was not too lost in them to notice, out of the corner of his eye, an all-too-familiar figure slumped in one of the small family waiting rooms he passed on his way. Stopping in his tracks, Nick did a double take, and, sure enough, there was Jamie, in the otherwise deserted waiting area, hunched over in a chair, his head bowed so that Nick could not see his face.

At first, Nick, remembering the time they had all sat around the hospital together after Claire’s dad’s heart attack, thought he might be praying. But Jamie’s hands were not clasped in front of him; they were in his hair, clawing big tufts of his dark curls. Recognizing this as a sign of stress, Nick felt an unexpected swell of empathy for the other man.

Standing frozen in the doorway, he debated silently over whether or not to go into the room. Jamie seemed lost in his own thoughts; he hadn’t looked up and noticed Nick. It would be easy to just keep walking. But an odd feeling was gnawing at Nick’s stomach, and before he knew it, he was stepping hesitantly into the room, knocking lightly against the wall to attract Jamie’s attention.

The curly head flew up, and a pair of red-rimmed blue eyes flashed. “I thought you left.” His voice was as flat as always, yet it wavered slightly.

Nick picked up on his vulnerability. He had been crying; that much was obvious. With growing apprehension, Nick wondered why. Had something happened to one of the babies? Or Claire?

He had to ask; if it was Claire or one of her children, he felt like it was enough of his business to know.

“I forgot my phone,” he said. “Did… did something happen?”

Tight-lipped, Jamie shook his head once. But Nick sensed that wasn’t the whole answer and waited to see if he would give anything more away. If not, he would just go talk to Claire – she never kept much to herself.

It took a long time for Jamie to say anything, but just when Nick was about to turn and leave, he did.

“I don’t think I can handle this.”

His voice shook, and Nick wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Jamie sound so weak – or admit weakness, for that matter. He suddenly seemed very small, more boy than man. Were it in any other situation, Nick might have screamed “Pussy!” in his head, but maybe because he was so awed by Jamie’s candid confession, he didn’t. Instead, he came over and sat down next to him.

“What do you mean? The babies? The whole NICU thing?” he asked, leaning forward so that he could look Jamie in the eye. He hadn’t yet been to the NICU to see Claire’s babies – he wasn’t sure if he’d even be allowed – but he had the image in his head of those plastic boxes with tiny, alien-looking babies inside, all hooked up to tubes and hoses, the sort of image of a preemie he saw on TV from time to time. Though he’d never experienced it, he could understand how it would be unsettling, even overwhelming, to see your own baby that way.

“That… Everything…” mumbled Jamie miserably, putting his hands back over his eyes and drawing them slowly down his face. “I mean, it’s not just the babies…. It’s Claire too. She’s falling apart, man. God help us if we lose one of them – she’s gonna blame herself.”

“Why would she blame herself?” asked Nick slowly, frowning.

“Cause she was s’posed to carry them nine months, and she couldn’t. She thinks it’s her fault they’re sick. She thinks we shouldn’t have even tried to get pregnant.”

“What??” Nick drew in a breath, shocked. “She said that?”

Jamie shrugged listlessly. “She said something about the risks… how we ignored all the risks going into this. And we did. I wanted to do it too; I thought, if it’s meant to be, God will make it happen. But maybe we were wrong to do it. The Church is against in-vitro, you know. They view it as playing God. Maybe that’s all we were doing, and now we’re being punished for it.”

Nick wasn’t sure how to respond to the God talk; he hardly knew a thing about the Catholic church. But a thought popped into his head, and he voiced it. “But people do that all the time, don’t they? In-vitro? And they have healthy babies from it… right?”

“But do they sacrifice one baby for the life of another? Maybe that’s what we’re being punished for.” Jamie’s voice took on a sudden angry tone, and he jammed his fist into his palm. “I let her go through with it… I let her kill our third child… and for what? For nothing. Fucking nothing. The other two are still sick. How would one more have made it any worse?”

Nick sat up, staring hard at the back of Jamie’s head. He didn’t have to dig very deep into his memory to remember what Claire had told him about Jamie’s reaction to the mere thought of aborting one of their triplets. That conversation was as vivid as ever, cemented into his memory with the sound of her crying, the emotion of her voice over the phone.


“Claire? Is Jamie there with you?”

She sniffled loudly in response and gulped, “No! He’s… he’s out with his friends. He won’t talk to me. I’ve tried, but all he’ll say is that we’re not k-killing our baby, and then he goes back to avoiding me. I don’t know what to do…”

Nick’s temper flared. “So you’re sitting at home crying, and he’s not even there?!” he asked in disbelief, his voice rising. “What kind of man is he, leaving his wife alone to deal with all of this?? God, Claire… that’s just not right! You shouldn’t be alone through this! When I… when I was trying to decide about my leg, I had to call someone, or I would have gone fucking crazy! If Brian hadn’t come to be with me, I don’t know what I would have done. And this decision isn’t something you can make on your own… he’s the fucking father; he needs to talk it over with you!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it ‘talking it over,’ but he got his point across, that’s for damn sure,” she sniffed bitterly. “It’s like, because he is their father, he gets the final word. He won’t even listen to me! I didn’t tell him I wanted to go through with it, but he won’t even consider it. It’s against our religion… abortion is a sin…”


At the time, Nick had hated Jamie stronger than ever for saying those things to Claire. Now, remembering them, hearing what he was saying now, Nick hated him even more.

“So are you saying it is her fault? Are you blaming her? Are you making her blame herself?” he accused, his pulse accelerating.

Jamie’s head snapped towards Nick, his eyes flashing again with anger. “No,” he growled, and his cheeks reddened. “It’s not just her; I don’t want her to blame herself. I can’t stand to see her crying the way she just was. She’s… God, she’s the strong one, emotionally. She always has been. She’s the one who talks about stuff; she doesn’t flip out and get upset. She doesn’t cry… but when she does, it’s either cause of me, or in spite of me. I dunno how to handle it! I dunno what to say to… to make her feel better. And I can’t stand it… if she falls apart, then I can’t hold it together either.”

“So that’s why you’re out here, and she’s in there,” said Nick through gritted teeth, not sure whether he should hug Jamie or hit him. He definitely didn’t want to hug him. The word “pussy” was coming back into his mind, as he pictured Claire alone, crying and upset, with no one to offer her comfort because her husband was sulking out here. Get over yourself, he wanted to say to Jamie. Buck up, get your shit together, be a man, and go be with your wife. She needs you.

But she didn’t. Jamie was right about one thing: Claire was the strong one. She didn’t need a man to wipe her tears, and she certainly didn’t need Jamie. All she needed, thought Nick, was a shoulder to cry on – forget wiping the tears away – and an ear to pour out her heart to. That was all Claire had ever really needed, someone to talk to, someone who understood her. She had mastered the concept he and Jamie both struggled with – that misery loves company, and it helps to talk your feelings out. She’d done so with Nick many times, and he was convinced that if Jamie could not comfort her, he could. He could be the friend she needed. He wanted to be.

Abruptly, he stood, causing Jamie to look up. “Where are you going?”

“To get my phone. I’ll tell Claire you’re getting coffee. Take all the time you need.”

“Thanks, man,” mumbled Jamie, his voice again muffled by his hands, which were holding his face once again.

Nick shook his head; what a pathetic case. Jamie hadn’t even clued into the fact that he wanted him to take as much time as possible so that he could talk to Claire himself. “Sure,” he muttered back and left the waiting area quickly.

He walked at the fastest pace he could handle; now he really was in a hurry, anxious to get to Claire. The anxiety got the better of him, and he pushed open her door without knocking this time, only to stumble to a stop, a blush creeping rapidly across his face.

He’d walked in on her completely topless, her hospital gown lying in a heap on the floor next to her bed. Her nurse from before stood next to her, unfolding a fresh gown for her to put on, and when she saw Nick, she quickly used it to cover Claire, but not before he saw her swollen breasts.

“Oh god, I’m so-sorry,” he stammered, looking away, his cheeks burning.

But in typical Claire fashion, her response was perfectly casual, unembarrassed. “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she said, and when he chanced another look at her (the nurse had helped her slide the gown on by now, thankfully), there was a wry smile on her face.

He gave a weak chuckle, still ashamed, not only because he’d walked in on her, but because the sight was actually arousing. He didn’t want to admit him, but the old feelings he’d had for her, emotions he’d had while making love to her, were stirring in him. Feeling like a teenage boy again, he fought hard to keep the emotions and physical responses at bay.

Who knew that the mere sight of her body, looking lovelier and, er, larger than ever, could still do this to him. But suddenly, even though she was pale and haggard, he couldn’t look at her without seeing the woman who had once filled his bed, lain on top of him in the sand and on the deck of his boat…

He cleared his throat, trying to clear the thoughts from his head as well. He couldn’t start doing this now. He couldn’t have feelings for her beyond friendship; he was dating Laureen now, and she was married and in need of a friend – nothing more.

“Thanks, Anita,” Claire said to the nurse, shifting her weight against her pillows.

“You’re welcome. Can I get you anything else before I go?”

“No… I’m fine, thanks.”

So the nurse went away, leaving an awkward silence in her wake. Claire, of course, was the one to break it.

“Sorry. I leaked breast milk all over my other gown,” she said bluntly.

“No, I’m sorry. I should have knocked,” he apologized again, unable to meet her eye.

She shrugged. “No big deal. Like I said… nothing you haven’t seen before, right?” Smiling, she held the gown to her chest and leaned forward, grimacing painfully. “That said, do you mind tying the back? I hate feeling naked back there, though I guess I should be used to it by now.”

“Sure,” Nick obliged, fumbling awkwardly with the thin ties that closed the gown in the back. His fingers brushed against her skin as he tied them, and he thought of how they’d once memorized every curve, every freckle of her back as they’d massaged and caressed the creamy white skin that stretched across it. Her skin was just as soft and smooth as ever. She never went without some kind of lotion, usually in a sweet-smelling, fruity or tropical scent. He leaned down just a bit, pretending to concentrate on the laces, and tried to catch a whiff of that familiar lotion, but all he could smell on her now was hospital. Antiseptic and latex. Blah.

“Thanks,” she said, once he had finished, relaxing against the pillows once more. “Ugh, moving sucks.”

“I hear that. How was the wheelchair?” he asked.

“Mm, sucky. But worth the pain, I guess, to see my little ones.” Another faint smile crossed her lips.

“How are they doing?”

“Caitlin, pretty good. Delaine… pretty bad. She’s not getting enough oxygen, even though she’s on a hundred percent with the ventilator,” Claire sighed. “They kicked us out so they could run more tests, try to find out if there’s anything they can do for her.”

Nick nodded and put his hand on top of hers. “I’d love to see them sometime, if they’d let me.”

She managed to smile again. “I want you to. I’m sure they’ll let you as long as you’re with me. Maybe we can go later this afternoon, when-” She cut herself off suddenly, cocking her head at him as if she’d only just noticed him. “Hey, what are you doing back anyway? I thought you left. You’re supposed to be out having fun, for your birthday!”

“I forgot my phone,” he admitted, suddenly remembering the real reason he had come back. He looked over to her bedside table, and there it was, right where he had apparently left it.

She looked over too. “Oh… I didn’t even see it there. Whoops.”

“It’s okay.” He reached for it, tipping it up to glance at the screen before pocketing it. “No missed calls.”

“Well, I would have seen it if it had rang,” said Claire, sticking her tongue out.

“Not if you were out of the room,” he replied, sticking his tongue out right back at her. Then he stopped, suddenly wondering what they were doing. She was supposed to be upset. The way Jamie had made it sound, she was a wreck. But she wasn’t acting much like a wreck. Sure, he could tell she’d been put through the wringer – she looked tired and stressed, and her face was blotchy from crying. But her eyes were dry now, and she seemed quite composed, almost like her normal self. Maybe it was just Jamie that made her cry.

He smirked, in spite of himself.

“So… you know you don’t have to stay. Not that I’m trying to kick you out,” Claire added quickly. “I just meant, it’s okay to grab your phone and go. Don’t feel like you’re stuck here with me now.”

“Who said I was ‘stuck’?” Nick shot back, offering a smile. “I don’t mind staying awhile, as long as you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Claire smiled back. “I like the company. But it’s your birthday, and we’re at a hospital, and Jamie’s here, so if you wanted to leave, I wouldn’t blame you one bit.”

“I already ran into Jamie in the hall. He said he was gonna go get some coffee,” Nick said, using the excuse he’d invented. It seemed believable; after all, Jamie had come on an early flight. But when Claire didn’t look totally convinced, he added truthfully, “He looked a little upset.”

She nodded. “This is hard on him,” she murmured.

Nick frowned. “And what, it’s not hard on you?” he blurted, unable to stop himself. As far as he was concerned, Jamie had no excuse to be out moping in the hall when his wife was worrying about their two babies and trying to recover from a C-section at the same time. If it was him, he told himself, he would be here by her side the whole time. Jamie didn’t deserve to call himself her husband.

“Of course it is,” answered Claire, “but-”

What the ‘but’ was, Nick never found out. She trailed off as the door opened, and he groaned inwardly, expecting it to be Jamie back already. But it wasn’t. It was Anita, back again and, this time, with a smile on her face. “Claire, I took the breast milk you pumped down to the NICU, and they’d like to use it to tube-feed Caitlin. They think she’s ready. Would you like to be there for the feeding?”

“Yes!” Claire gasped, her whole demeanor brightening. “I would love to be!”

Anita was still smiling. “I thought so. Let me get you a wheelchair.”

She left the room, and Claire immediately turned to Nick. “Do you want to come?” she offered.

“Well, sure… if it’s okay with you,” replied Nick. He didn’t want to impose on her, but he was curious to see how the babies were today.

“Would I have asked if it wasn’t okay?” Claire winked. “Of course it’s okay. Just do me one favor first…”

“Sure.”

“Would you take a walk up the hall and see if Jamie’s back yet? If he is, tell him what’s going on. I don’t want him to miss this if he’s around. But if not, it’s okay… there will be more feedings. I don’t want Cait to go hungry just cause her daddy’s off wandering somewhere.” She smiled.

“Alright,” Nick agreed, wondering if Jamie was still sulking where he’d left him. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay. Make sure you wash you hands on the way back… I don’t want you spreading cooties to my kid.”

Nick laughed at the playful grin on her face and nodded. “Will do.” He left the room and strode up the hall to the waiting area where he’d talked to Jamie earlier. To his surprise (and a little to his relief), it was empty. Maybe Jamie had gone for coffee.

Shrugging, he turned and walked back to Claire’s room, figuring it was Jamie’s loss. He ducked into the men’s room on the way, to wash his hands as she had requested, and when he returned, Anita was already back, waiting with a wheelchair. “Can’t find him,” he told Claire. “He must still be in the cafeteria.”

“Alright. Well, I don’t want to wait too long, so let’s just go,” Claire decided, and Anita helped her back into the wheelchair. Nick could tell, by the grimace on her face, that the movement hurt, but once she was in the chair, she set her jaw determinedly and folded her hands in her lap.

“Comfortable?” asked the nurse.

“Close enough,” replied Claire, and they set off for the NICU.

***

With pride, Claire introduced to Nick the twin daughters he’d seen born the night before. “This is Delaine Ryann,” she said, her hand lingering lovingly over Delaine’s incubator. Delaine’s sats were still low, and Fernanda told her the lab was running tests on her blood and urine as they spoke. Trying to keep her worry contained until the test results were back, Claire turned to the other incubator. “And this is Caitlin Patrice.”

“Beautiful,” said Nick, smiling into the incubator. Glancing at Claire, he asked, “You think they’ll look like you, or Curly?”

Claire laughed. “I dunno…” she murmured, gazing into the incubator. “Too early to tell, I guess. I just hope they don’t get my complexion. I want them to at least have a chance out in the sun.”

“Do they get sun up there in Iowa?” Nick chuckled.

“Ha ha,” Claire said, and sighed. No one knew it yet, but she was dreading going back to Des Moines. With the girls in the hospital, she knew it would be awhile before she had to, but still, she wished she could stay in Florida indefinitely. Everything was better here – the weather, the people around her – and she’d been spoiled by the beautiful condo Nick had set her up in. It depressed her to think of packing up and leaving, taking her little family back to the isolation of Iowa, with no one around but Jamie’s mother. “I wonder if Jamie’s talked to his mom yet.”

Nick didn’t reply, and she realized she was thinking out loud. Shrugging, she finished, “He probably has; he’s a mama’s boy,” and Nick chuckled lightly.

Fernanda came over then, carrying a bag of yellowish breast milk. “Time for lunch,” she smiled, waving the bag a little. She went about hooking the bag up to the thin feeding tube that ran into one of Caitlin’s tiny nostrils and all the way down to her stomach, explaining what she was doing as she went along. Claire didn’t bother to tell her that she herself had had an NG tube in place at one point during her bone marrow transplant and already knew the drill. She felt sorry for her baby, having to be fed this way, but there was no alternative – it would be another week or two before Caitlin was strong enough and coordinated enough to breastfeed, and for Delaine, it would be even longer. With a sigh, she settled for watching as her pumped milk traveled slowly through the tube.

“Not very exciting,” she said finally, to break the sudden silence, smiling over at Nick.

He smiled back. “I don’t mind. Thanks for letting me come see them.”

“No problem.” A sudden thought made her giggle, though it was sort of sad. “Though, at this rate, if Jamie keeps going MIA, they’ll start to think you’re their daddy.”

Nick reddened. And then she heard an all-too-familiar voice behind her say, “Is that your plan, Claire?”

Groaning inwardly, Claire turned her head to face Jamie.

***