21. Lizzie
21
LIZZIE
T he next few hours are a haze of sleep, feedings, and diaper changes. At first, I don’t want Isaac to leave my side. But after the third or fourth time of drifting off only for him to cry, Pippa calls the nurse for me. They come to take him to the nursery so I can get a proper rest. When I’d planned my delivery, I’d adamantly told Pippa that under no circumstances did I want them to take Isaac from my room. But after such an intense labor, I’m more than happy to have a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.
By the time morning rolls around, I’m more alert, as is Isaac. I hold him close to my chest as he stares up at me with big eyes. They had been black after he was born, but already they seem to have lightened up a bit, turning dark gray. I’ve got a feeling he has inherited his father’s bright-blue eyes.
Only time will tell.
I’m overwhelmed by the love I feel for the little guy.
People throw around the idea that love should be unconditional, a concept I’d doubted my whole life. In my experience, love always came with strings attached. But the moment I’d laid eyes on my newborn baby, something in me had shifted. No conditions, no expectations, no reservations—just a profound love for this tiny being I held in my arms.
It’s a different kind of love.
It’s immersive. It’s pure and simple. It’s abundant.
“You are the most wonderful, and most special, and most handsome little man I’ve ever seen. Aren’t you? Yes, you are. Yes, you are!” I coo, rocking Isaac in my arms.
“Easy now. Too much adoration and he might start demanding a crown.”
I look up, and my heart jumps. I settle against the pillows and smile at Dillan as he stands watching in the doorway, hands in his pockets, an easy smile playing on his lips.
“Listen here, Dr. Maxwell,” I say. “My kid is destined for greatness, and I’ll remind him of that every single day.”
“That kid is going to strut around like he owns the place.”
“Exactly! Who knows? One day, he might…I mean, confidence opens doors in this world.”
Dillan chuckles. “Except maybe the bathroom door when you’re in a hurry.”
I grin. “At least he’ll have a confident knock!”
“No doubt about it.”
It’s so damn easy to fall into our playful banter, despite everything we’ve been through. I’ve gone back and forth about telling Dillan that Isaac is his, but I’m still not sure if it’ll be the best decision. I’ve already come to terms with the idea of raising Isaac on my own. Dillan and I reconnecting hasn’t changed that, and I doubt his thoughts on having children has changed in the last nine months.
Seriously, how on earth would this conversation even go?
Hey, Dillan. Guess what? So, remember when we slept together? Well, the pill decided to take a coffee break and surprise, surprise, Isaac is yours! Life’s curveballs, huh?
I doubt he would take the news well.
“Where’s Pippa?” Dillan asks as he scans the room.
“She borrowed her friend’s car and ran home to get the baby’s car seat. We forgot it in our rush out the door.”
“Why is it that every time I come in here, you’re alone?” he asks, still standing in the door.
I pause for a moment, then shrug innocently. “Circumstances, I guess. It’s all right. I’m enjoying the Mommy-Isaac time.”
“Are you being discharged already?”
“I don’t see the point in wasting money and staying another night. We both have a clean bill of health, and I just want to get home.”
“I see that you’re ready to dive right into motherhood.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m absolutely terrified of being responsible for another living being. But I’d much rather do it in my own home and bed.”
Dillan finally enters the room and takes the seat by my bed. “I have to say, I was entirely surprised to see you here yesterday.”
“I bet.” I smile. “I was surprised to see you too.”
Our gazes meet, and it’s clear we’re both thinking about that one night, but we’re on the same page about not bringing it up now. I’m just too wiped out, and Dillan is a good enough guy to realize it.
But wait, that wasn’t the last time I saw him.
He was at the strip club.
I can’t imagine what he must be thinking. Seeing me on stage clearly wasn’t what he expected that night. Between that and being the one to deliver my baby, he’s probably as all over the place as I am.
“I couldn’t help but notice Pippa was with you when you delivered,” he says in a careful tone. “Is Isaac’s dad?—?”
He lets the question hang there.
It’s my turn to choose my words carefully. “He’s…not in the picture,” I answer.
I half-expect him to ask if Isaac is his, but by his tone and the question, clearly the thought hasn’t entered his mind. Either he hasn’t done the math, or he just assumes I’ve moved on. Although, if it’s the first one, I’m sure he would have come right out and asked. I’ve never known Dillan to beat around the bush.
It’s probably better this way , I think to myself.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dillan says. I notice his shoulders relaxing as some of the tension leaves his body. “But you know, he’ll never realize what he’s missing. You’re going to be an exceptional mother. I have every confidence in you.”
I swallow hard. How does he always know the right things to say? “Thank you. I…appreciate that.”
Dillan’s phone dings. He makes a noise of annoyance and checks his messages. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. One of my patients just went into labor.”
My heart sinks as he gets to his feet.
Why are we always pressed for time? It seems like, no matter how many chances Dillan and I get to connect, time is our enemy. We stare at each other in silence, neither seeming to know what to say. I find that I’m not ready to say goodbye again, but I don’t really have a choice.
“It was great to see you,” I say. “Really.”
Dillan smiles and leans down.
First, I think he wants to kiss me, and I almost gasp.
The next thing I know, he’s pulling both Isaac and me into a warm hug, wrapping us up like we’re the most precious things in the world. I close my eyes and savor the touch, knowing it will be the last time it’ll happen. My heart races, and I can’t help but loop one arm around him to return the embrace and to hold him as close as possible. He smells so beautiful—one hundred percent man, strong, and brave, and just…wonderful—and I hope he won’t let go. We stay there for a few precious moments before Dillan kisses my temple and draws away.
“Take care of yourself, Lizzie,” he says, briefly stroking my cheek.
I almost want to cry at his soft touch and the tender glow in his eyes. For a few seconds, our eyes lock, and I feel we’re staring into each other’s souls.
Tell him, tell him , the angel on my shoulder chides, kicking the devil in the gut, only allowing him a grunt.
Okay, okay. I will tell him.
I start to collect my words.
Hurry , the angel urges.
I open my mouth to speak.
Then Dillan’s hand is gone, leaving my body cold without the heat of his touch.
He gives me a smile before he gently places his hand on Isaac’s head, stroking his hair for a second before taking a step back. “Bye, Lizzie.”
“Bye, Dillan.”
I watch him cross the room. An ache grips my heart. Every fiber of my being hurts. Deep down, I want to call for him, to at least ask him for his number or another way to contact him.
But before I can, he’s out the door and gone from my sight.
A lone once more, I shut my eyes, battling the tears, refusing to let them spill into a vast sea of sorrow. In my arms, Isaac lets out a soft whimper and begins to squirm. Instinctively, I start to gently rock him, pulling myself together enough to give my son the attention he needs.
“It’s all right, little man,” I coo, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “We’ll be just fine.”
The angel on my shoulder sighs, and the devil grins.
I should have told him, shouldn’t I?
The angel nods, following it up with a dramatic eye roll that screams, “ Duh .”
Fortunately, Pippa waltzes in a minute later, sparing me from dwelling too long on my own pitiful cowardice. She helps me get dressed, and after I sign a few papers, Isaac and I are ready to go home.
M rs. Loughty is waiting for us when we get there. The apartment is decorated with balloons and numerous flowers and gifts, all courtesy of my friends and coworkers. Seeing it all makes my heart lighter than it has been since Dillan walked away. It reminds me that although he will no longer be in my life, I still have a precious support system.
“Oh, what a precious little love!” Mrs. L exclaims as soon as she wobbles through the door on her cane. “Look at him. Such an adorable little baby.”
“He is a handsome one,” I say, easing my sore body onto the couch and letting the older woman fuss over my son.
“He really is. He looks just like a young Prince William. That little chap was the cutest baby I ever saw. My late husband Charles and I always marveled about him. I used to call my husband Prince Charles, you know—like the Prince of Wales—and he called me ‘My Duchess.’ You probably remember that sort of silliness from your own parents. My friend Linda’s baby was very cute too. Ooh, I’m lucky to be surrounded by all this cuteness.” She’s on him in an instant, taking him out of the car seat so she can hold him. “How are you feeling, love?” she asks me, cradling the baby as she sits next to me.
“Incredibly happy and exhausted,” I breathe.
“I can imagine. Anyway, you just rest there and have a little snooze. We’ll keep an eye on the little one.”
“I’m all right, really, Mrs. Loughty. Besides, he’s probably going to be hungry soon.”
Dillan’s reappearance has thrown me for a loop, and I still haven’t recovered from it. Sensing my mood, Pippa steps in.
“I think we have this covered, Mrs. L,” she says, and I gently take the baby from her arms. “Lizzie and Isaac just need a little time to bond. That’s what the doctor said at least.”
“Oh, of course! How silly of me.” To her credit, Mrs. L can take a hint when she really wants to. She gets to her feet after patting me on the shoulder. “You just let me know if there’s anything you need. I’m going to do chicken for dinner. You want chicken? Of course you do. I’ll bring a plate over!”
Pippa closes and locks it behind her. “I love that woman,” she says. “She’s hilarious.”
“She’s a trip.”
Pippa takes over Mrs. L’s seat on the couch, busying herself arranging the gifted flower arrangements. “How are you doing, babes?”
I curl into the couch, clutching Isaac to my chest. “I honestly don’t know, Pippa. There are so many emotions rushing through me that I can’t even focus.”
“I don’t blame you. It’s been a wild ride these past two days, complete with drama, twists, loose ends dangling…and a truth waiting in the wings.”
We fall into silence.
I stare at Isaac while Pippa stares at me. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I don’t know what I feel. I’m happy, terrified, exhausted, excited, and numerous other emotions that I can’t identify. Overwhelmed is likely the best description.
“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
Pippa’s question is expected but not one I’m eager to talk about. I don’t answer right away, busying myself with taking Isaac’s little coat and hat off, making him comfortable. Pippa takes my silence as an answer. She doesn’t push or ask anything else, only puts her arm around me and gives me a hug.
“Get some rest. He’s calm right now, so you should get some sleep while you can.”
“No arguments here.”
Pippa helps me to my feet so I can shuffle to my bedroom. Fresh sheets have been put on the bed, and it’s all turned down, ready for me to climb in. I tuck Isaac into the cradle Alexis and Lori had given me, making sure he’s all cozy before I practically face-plant into bed. It’s a lot softer than I remembered, and when I turn to give Pippa a questioning look, she smiles.
“I managed to snag a mattress topper for you as a surprise,” she says. “I figured it would help with the lumpiness a little.”
“Aww, Pippa, you’re heaven-sent!”
“Well, this angel accepts payments in chocolate and foot massages, just so you know.”
I chuckle sleepily. She draws the comforter up and over me and places a kiss on my forehead.
“Rest well. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
“Left cupboard, kitchen. Behind the baking powder. Consider my chocolate stash yours.”
Pippa plants another smooch on my forehead. “Catch me in the kitchen if you need me. Saving you a piece, I promise. Sweet dreams!”
I lie there for some time, staring at the cradle that holds my newborn son and listening to the sounds of my neighbors. Usually, it gives me comfort. And yet, lying there, I can’t help but shake this feeling of worry. Because, when push comes to shove, the responsibility of raising Isaac rests solely on my shoulders, regardless of how sweet and helpful others may be. As much care and support as I’ve got in my life, I’ve got to make the decisions, and I’ve got to raise him.
Collecting all my mental strength, I purposefully close my eyes, mute any angel-devil talk, and snuggle under the comforter for a much-needed nap before my son wakes again.
It’s not like dancing and hearing no rhythm.
It’s more about finding your steps as you go along.