18. Haley
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Haley
“Yes, Lily, you can sleep in your bed tonight.” I twisted around in the passenger seat to look at her, strapped into her car seat with her stuffed rabbit clutched against her chest. “And all the nights after that. No more hospital.”
“Uhm.” She scrunched up her face, that expression she made when she was working through a problem too big for her three-year-old brain. “Why did you leave me there?”
My heart cracked right down the middle.
“I didn’t leave you, sweetheart.” I reached back and squeezed her knee through her blanket. “You had to get all better. The doctors needed to give you medicine, and Mommy stayed with you the whole time. Remember? I was right there when you woke up.”
“But the bed was weird.”
“I know. Hospital beds are weird.”
“And it smelled funny.”
“It did smell funny. You’re right about that.”
She considered this for a moment, her brow furrowed with the intensity of a Supreme Court justice weighing a landmark case. “Can I have chicken nuggets?”
The emotional whiplash of parenting a toddler. One second she was processing abandonment trauma, the next she was thinking about fried food.
“We’ll see about chicken nuggets.” I turned back around in my seat and caught James watching me. He gave me a small smile, and I felt my face flush.
I looked away.
Lily had been whining since they discharged her an hour ago. About the wheelchair they made her sit in. About the sticker the nurse gave her being the wrong color. Normal toddler complaints amplified by exhaustion and residual sickness, but my patience was wearing thin.
James had offered to drive us home before I could even think about calling a cab.
He had been at the hospital all night, sleeping in that uncomfortable chair beside Lily’s bed, and when the doctors came in to give Lily her final checkup, he was right there asking questions about follow-up care and warning signs to watch for.
Like he belonged there.
I glanced at him now, his profile sharp against the morning light filtering through the windshield. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, his hair slightly disheveled from running his hands through it too many times.
He looked tired.
He looked good anyway.
God. Why was it so hard to not look at him?
I caught him glancing my way again, his eyes flicking to mine for just a second before returning to the road. That was the third time in ten minutes. Maybe the fourth. I had lost count somewhere around the highway exit.
Every time our eyes met, he smiled. That same reassuring smile. That same warmth.
I needed to stop looking at him.
“The exit for your place is coming up,” he said, his voice breaking through my thoughts. “Two more miles, right?”
“Yeah. Two more miles.”
Lily had gone quiet in the backseat. I turned to check on her and found her slumped against the side of her car seat, her rabbit dangling from one limp hand, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open.
“She’s out,” I said softly.
“Good. She needs the rest.” James adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “You do too, for what it’s worth.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been awake for almost forty hours.”
“I’m a mother. Sleep deprivation is part of the job description.”
He laughed at that, a low sound that did things to my chest I didn’t want to examine. “Fair enough.”
We pulled into the underground parking garage of my building a few minutes later. James killed the engine and turned to look at me, his expression serious.
“Stay put.”
“What?”
“Don’t wake her.” He nodded toward the backseat. “Let me get her out. She’ll fuss less if she doesn’t fully wake up.”
“But I can’t carry her. I mean, I can, but with all the bags, I don’t think I can manage both.”
“Haley.” He put his hand over his heart with exaggerated offense. “You think I’m that weak? I’m hurt.”
He made a show of flexing his arm, then immediately let it drop like it weighed a thousand pounds, his face contorting into an expression of theatrical exhaustion.
I laughed despite myself. “Stop it.”
“I can barely lift a coffee cup these days.” He held up his hand and made it tremble. “The muscles have completely atrophied. It’s tragic, really.”
“Come on, your ego doesn’t need any boost.” I shook my head, still smiling. “I’ll grab the bags. You can get her up.”
“Deal.”
We moved quietly, conscious of the sleeping child in the backseat. James helped me gather the bags first, slinging the overnight duffel over his shoulder and handing me Lily’s smaller backpack. Then he opened the rear door and leaned in to unbuckle her car seat.
I watched him lift her out, his movements careful.
Lily stirred but didn’t wake, her arms automatically reaching up to wrap around his neck, her face burrowing into his shoulder.
She let out a small sigh and went still again, her body molding against his chest like she had done this a thousand times before.
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
Just like that. Casual. Natural. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.
My chest seized.
Why did these moments hit me so hard? Why did watching James hold my daughter make me feel like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, one strong wind away from falling?
“You okay?”
I blinked. He was watching me, Lily secure in his arms, his brow furrowed with concern.
“Yeah.” I forced myself to nod. “I’m fine.”
But he had caught me staring, and now I could feel the heat creeping up my neck, embarrassment flooding through me. I needed to say something. Anything to break the tension I had created by standing here like an idiot watching him hold my child.
“We should.” I gestured vaguely toward the elevator. “I could, um. The apartment is on the fourth floor, so we should probably.”
“Lead the way, Haley.”
His voice was gentle. Like he understood exactly why I was fumbling over my words and had decided not to make it worse by pointing it out.
I nodded and turned toward the elevator, my face burning. He followed behind me, his footsteps quiet on the concrete, Lily’s soft breathing the only sound between us.
The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside. I pressed the button for the fourth floor and leaned against the wall, watching James’s reflection in the mirrored doors.
He was looking down at Lily, adjusting his grip slightly to keep her more comfortable. His hand spanned almost the entire width of her back. She looked so small against him. So safe.
All the feelings I had been trying to bury for three years came rushing back.
The way he had looked at me in the hospital.
Why had I pushed him away?
“Did I do something to upset you?”
His voice startled me out of my thoughts. I looked up and found him watching me in the mirror’s reflection, his expression unreadable.
“No.” I shook my head quickly. “God, no. Why would you say that?”
“You just look sad.” He shifted Lily slightly, his eyes still holding mine through the mirror. “Are you sure? Is it Lily? Are you worried about her?”
“No, it’s not Lily. She’s going to be fine. The doctors said so.” I took a breath, trying to find the right words. “It’s just seeing you like this with her. It makes me feel things I don’t know how to process.”
“I know what you mean.”
Before I could respond, he spoke again.
“Does she ask about him?”
I didn’t need to ask who he was talking about.
I shook my head. “She hasn’t brought it up.
Not once, actually. And I don’t want to push her either.
She’s only three. She doesn’t understand what a father is supposed to be, so she doesn’t know she’s missing one.
” I hesitated, the question I had been wanting to ask sitting heavy on my tongue. “Uhm.”
“He doesn’t.” James said it before I could figure out how to phrase it. “If that’s what you were going to ask.”
Right. Why would he? It wasn’t like he had wanted the child anyway.
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.
“Sometimes I wonder what our lives would look like if he’d been a good husband. If he’d been the person I thought he was when I married him. If any of it had been real.”
James stepped out of the elevator and waited for me to lead the way down the hall. When he spoke, his voice was hard.
“I don’t think he knows how to be a good husband, Haley. He’s barely a man. He’s a child in an expensive suit who’s never had to face a consequence in his life.” He paused, his jaw tight. “You deserved better than him. You always did.”
It hurt to hear James talk about his brother that way. Even after everything, there was still a part of me that remembered they were family. James had grown up with Caleb, shared a childhood with him, had once probably looked up to him.
But there was another part of me, a larger part, that felt warm knowing he had always been on my side. That he had chosen me over his own blood, again and again, without hesitation.
“I’m glad you’re here, James.” I stopped in front of my apartment door and turned to face him. “Thank you.”
“You keep saying that.” His voice was soft, his eyes holding mine. “And I keep telling you, I’m not doing you a favor. This isn’t charity. I’m here because I want to be here. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. So I just nodded and unlocked the door.
The apartment was exactly as I had left it two days ago. Dishes in the sink. Lily’s toys scattered across the living room floor. The blanket I had been using when I first noticed her fever still crumpled on the couch.
“Her room is down the hall,” I said, pointing. “Second door on the left.”
James carried Lily down the hallway, and I followed, watching him navigate the narrow space with ease. He laid her down on her bed gently, so gently she didn’t even stir, and then pulled her blanket up to her chin. He tucked her rabbit under her arm and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
He looked so natural doing it. So fatherlike.
Lily had Caleb’s features. I had noticed it from the moment she was born, the shape of her nose and the curve of her chin and the stubborn set of her jaw when she didn’t get her way. She was her father’s daughter in every physical sense.
But standing here now, watching James tuck her in, I realized for the first time that she also looked like him. The Sinclair genes ran strong. She had the same eyes as James. The dark hair. The furrowing brow when concentrating.
How had I not noticed that before?
We slipped out of her room and closed the door softly behind us. I led James back to the kitchen and started making coffee, more to have something to do with my hands than because I actually wanted any.
“You should sleep,” he said, leaning against the counter. “I can let myself out.”
“Stay.” The word came out too fast, too desperate. I tried to cover it with a casual shrug. “I mean, the coffee’s almost ready. It seems rude to kick you out before you’ve had any.”
“If you insist.”
We sat at my small kitchen table with our mugs, the morning light streaming through the window. The exhaustion was catching up with me, making everything feel slightly unreal, slightly dreamlike.
“So.” I wrapped my hands around my mug. “What’s going on in your life? I realized I’ve been so caught up in my own drama that I haven’t asked you anything about yourself in ages.”
“Not much to tell.” He shrugged. “Work is busy. The distillery is doing well. I bought a new car a few months ago that I don’t really need but couldn’t resist.”
“Very practical.”
“Practicality is overrated.”
I laughed. “What about your personal life? Are you seeing anyone?”
He took a sip of his coffee, his expression unreadable. “No.”
“No?” I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? There’s no one you’re interested in?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way.” He set his mug down and looked at me. “There’s someone. But I don’t think she’s interested in me.”
“Who is naive enough to not be interested in you?” I was rambling. “You’re a catch, James. You’re smart, successful, you’re…” I waved my hand at him. “You know. Attractive. What’s her hang-up?”
“Is that so?” There was a glint in his eye now, amused and a little dangerous.
“Come on, you want me to compliment you? Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re hot. You showed up at a hospital in the middle of the night because my kid was sick. You’re basically a romance novel hero. So what’s this woman’s problem?”
He smiled, and there was a smugness to it I couldn’t quite interpret. “Well, if I get around to asking her, I’ll fill you in.”
I stared at him, trying to read his expression, to understand why that smile made my stomach flip.
“You do that,” I said finally.
He held my gaze for a beat too long, that smug smile still playing at the corner of his lips. Then he raised his coffee mug in a mock toast and took a long sip, his eyes never leaving mine.