34. You Handle Your Baby and I’ll Handle Mine
34
YOU HANDLE YOUR BABY AND I’LL HANDLE MINE
DAISY
I slip into the back seat of the car, and the dam of tears I’ve been holding finally bursts free.
Every moment since I walked out of Charles’ office after signing those marriage papers rushes back to me. In these months, my life changed in such a way that I’ll never be the same person I was before.
“We’ve arrived at the hospital, Daisy.” Dave’s voice breaks through the speakers before he opens the door. “Is everything alright?” His movements stall as he finds me sniffling.
“Yes, everything’s fine.” I look at the tissues strewn around on the leather seat beside me. “I…I just got a text from Dad and got a bit emotional. He’s waiting for me in the waiting room.”
What have you become, Daisy?
A wife who lies and a daughter who profits off her father’s illness.
“I’ll walk with you to reception.” Dave begins to turn away, but I grasp his wrist, halting his steps.
“Sorry, but my dad gets anxious around too many people.”
Understanding flashes in Dave’s eyes, mingled with concern, before he says, “Mr. Hawthorne asked me to ensure you and your dad see the doctor immediately, Daisy. He won’t be pleased otherwise.”
My feet falter. Did Charles call Dave before or after I asked for a divorce?
As if nature wants me to have an answer to my question, Dave’s phone rings.
“It’s Charles, isn’t it?” I ask as he retrieves it from his pocket.
The bodyguard nods.
“May I speak with him, please?” I extend my hand, and without hesitation, Dave places the phone on my waiting palm.
“Has Daisy met with the doctor yet?” Charles’ no-nonsense business tone hits me like a shock. It’s been months since I heard him speak this way. How much has changed between us?
“Charles, it’s me,” I respond slowly.
“Daisy?” There’s the sound of something crashing in the background before he curses softly. “Fuck. Sorry, I just knocked over a paperweight onto my coffee mug. Is everything okay?”
“I don’t want Dave to accompany me to the hospital.”
There’s a tense silence for a few heartbeats before Charles clears his throat. “I didn’t mean to intrude—”
“No! That’s not what I meant.” My throat clogs with emotion. How did we become almost strangers in such a short time? “Dad gets anxious in hospitals, especially when there are a lot of people.” My tongue feels like lead as I recite the lie.
“Dammit.” I can imagine Charles tugging on his hair. “Sorry, Daisy. I didn’t consider that.” His voice tightens the knot of guilt around my throat some more, making it hard to swallow. “Of course. You go ahead. Dave will wait for you in the parking lot.”
“Thank you.”
I hand the phone back to Dave before striding away, dragging along my aching heart.
As planned, Willow is already waiting for me in the hospital lobby, which is thankfully empty.
“Thank God you’re finally here! I thought you got last-minute cold feet.” My best friend’s fingers, tapping away on her phone, pause as she looks up at me. She places a baseball cap on my head and pink sunglasses, which threaten to engulf my entire face, over my nose.
“Can you recognize me?”
“I’d recognize you in a room full of masquerade masks, Daze.” She gives me a duh look, but before my master plan completely loses its spirit, she hands me a bag. “But that’s because we’re besties. Change into these, and no one will know it’s you.”
We slip into the ladies’ bathroom, and I promptly duck into a stall to shed my lavender skirt and white silk blouse.
“How do I look?” I walk to her in baggy jeans so ripped up, they look more shredded than stylish. Her red crop top shows my midriff in a tasteful and not indecent way. I feel like an adult trying to pass as a high schooler.
“You look smoking hot!”
“The point is to make me invisible and not stand out.”
“Trust me, everyone will be too busy admiring your curves to notice your face. Now, let’s go, I’ve already booked the appointment for you.”
“Under your name?”
“Yep. We’ll tell the receptionist I’m the patient, and then hopefully the doctor will understand why you want to keep it a secret, with you being Mrs. Daisy Price-Hawthorne and all.”
Not for much longer.
We settle in at the OB-GYN and pediatric unit waiting room. The metal legs of the chair groan under my nervous fidgeting legs, but they still as Willow’s phone goes off. Her annoyed expression could carve ice as she lets it go to voicemail.
The incessant ringing persists, and her expression turns murderous. “Stop calling me, Gus. I’m not having this conversation on the phone.”
The other voice is muffled by her sharp inhale.
“Did you hear a word I said this morning? I’m not signing anything. And if it comes to it, I’ll drag you and your greedy billionaire friend through court. You’re a fraud, and I won’t let you touch my grandfather’s land—”
Mid-sentence, she springs up from her seat, eliciting a squeal out of me.
“That’s private property, you jerk! If you don’t leave now, I’ll sue you for trespassing.”
She ends the call but doesn’t return to her seat. She’s like a human pressure cooker right now, and I can practically hear the lid rattling as she paces the floor. We’ve been friends since kindergarten, and I know her every move. She needs to be somewhere else right now.
“Go.” I stand before her, bringing her marching to a stop.
“What? No. I’m not going anywhere.”
“We’ve already done the hard part together.” I jerk my head toward my clothes. “I’ll be okay from here.”
“Stop it, Daisy. I’m not leaving you alone. Your husband should be here with you, dammit. But if that stupid guy is too busy or too scared to be a father, you don’t need him anyway. But I’m not going anywhere.”
Oh, Wills.
Who would know the importance of a dad more than her?
A tingling sensation runs down my spine, like a gentle electric current swirling with gratitude.
“Do you know how lucky I feel to have you in my life? You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.” I feel the anxiety rolling out of her as I hug her tight. “If I’m thinking of doing this alone, it’s only because of my friends. I know I can count on you all.”
“We’re here every step of the way. You—” Her words are once again cut short by her ringing phone. The soft lyrics about a first love don’t sound so peaceful right now.
“Go, Willow. Please.” I don’t know what exactly is happening in her life, but soon I’ll get to the bottom of it.
Indecision flickers in her eyes as I gently nudge her toward the door.
“I’ll be fine, I promise.”
“You call me the moment you’re done or if you need anything, Daze.”
When Willow’s phone rings for the millionth time, she finally leaves.
In the eerie silence of the waiting room, a tightness grows in my chest. To calm myself, I get up from the chair and pass by the numerous posters on the wall.
Can I do this alone? Not just today’s appointment but this journey—
My anxiety doesn’t even get to see the full light, because it’s soon replaced by pure fear.
A familiar voice, loud and clear, booms from the hospital lobby. Mayor Gretel Coggeshall.
What the hell is she doing here?
It hasn’t been long since I gave my uncensored drunk performance to prove I’m not pregnant, yet here I am.
Crap! That woman has X-ray eyes. If she could correctly judge I was pregnant even before I knew, how could she not recognize me?
I skip out of the waiting area, aiming for the ladies’ room where I changed, but that’s not going to happen. She’s already headed my way.
I look around and spot a door. The shining metal doorknob to my right calls my name, and without a second thought, I turn it open.
The moment I step inside, my whole world tips at the sight before me.
Ray sits across from a female doctor, cradling in his arms the most adorable little girl, about five or six years old. She hides her face in his chest and wraps her tiny arms around his neck at my unexpected appearance.
Is this some sort of portal to a parallel universe?
Because the corporate shark Raymond Teager, who’s equally revered and feared among his competitors, doesn’t do cute. And for the love of God, I can’t imagine anyone using him as a protective shield. But right now, he’s the picture of cuddliness, except for the murderous expression on his face that shifts to confusion as he looks at me from head to toe.
“Daisy?”
So much for the disguise.
“Sorry. I got lost.”
The doctor rises from her chair. “You’re in the OB-GYN and pediatric wing right now, Mrs. Hawthorne. Where exactly were you trying to go? Perhaps I can assist you.”
My palms turn clammy under her well-intentioned probing. Nervous, my gaze jumps to Ray, who continues to regard me with the same trust level a grizzly bear has for strangers approaching her cubs.
But his hands…
I can’t pull my gaze away from them. His large palms, which are strong enough to throttle anyone and do serious harm, are stroking the little girl’s back with featherlight touches.
The doctor clears her throat, making me jump.
“I…I was here to talk to my dad’s doctor.” The lie slips out of my mouth again.
“It’ll be the news of the year if the media spots you in this swing. You know that, right?” Ray smirks as if he’s the one who’ll be benefiting the most out of that horrible situation.
The little girl releases her arms from around his neck. Pushing her bangs out of her eyes, she looks at me. Her untidy ponytail shifts in the air as she moves her head like a puppy, while Ray’s hold around her stays firm.
“You have a daughter?” I ask. After watching them for a few moments, I have zero doubts about their relationship.
Nobody replies until the girl nods excitedly.
She doesn’t say a word and just grins at him, and my heart melts.
“Yes,” Ray replies with his lips curling.
Holy crap! In all the years I’ve known Ray, I’ve never seen him smile so wide, and ladies and gentlemen, that man has a seriously beautiful smile.
While I stand there stunned, Ray does the honors of introductions. “Daisy, meet my daughter, Quill.” He then looks down. “She’s Uncle Charlie’s wife, your aunt Daisy.”
Quill’s forehead puckers as if solving some serious algebra equation, until she leaps out of her father’s lap and dashes to stop right before me. Before I can make sense of her overenthusiasm, she hugs my legs, squishing me in the cutest and softest shackles ever.
My pregnancy hormones start to kick in when this sweet bundle presses her face to my thighs and I hear destiny whispering, “Get ready for a whole new kind of love, Daze.”
“I’m so happy to meet you, Quill.” I crouch down, getting at her eye level.
But she doesn’t say anything, instead showing me her toothy grin once again.
“Okay, Quills. Back to Dad.” Ray’s voice is soft, but there’s an unmissable underlying tension.
Quill immediately returns, situating herself right back on her dad’s lap.
Before I can turn around and give these three their privacy, which I ruined by my sudden arrival, Ray tips his head to the side.
“That disguise is absolute shit, Daisy. I’m sorry to say, but the person who loaned you the clothes either has bad eyesight or doesn’t care about you enough.”
I’m about to remind him that I never asked for his advice, but Ray shakes his head.
“If even one picture of you in this wing goes public, it’ll create a massive PR headache for Charles, you, and Jimmy. Unless that’s the intention? To attract media attention?”
“What? Crap!” Does that mean I’ll have to camp out here for eternity?
“No, Mrs. Hawthorne. That’d just be too cruel of us.” The doctor smiles, making me realize I’ve once again spoken the words out loud.
“We will see you next week, Doc.” Ray gets up from his seat, and my heart squeezes when he waits for Quill to grab his index finger in her tiny hand, and only then does he turn to me. “You’ll leave with us.”
The hell I will!
I immediately step away from the door, but so does Ray.
Instead of walking to the door behind me, he saunters in the other direction toward a PRIVATE sign on the wooden-paneled wall. My curious gaze follows as he flips the light switch and the door opens to an elevator car.
“What in God’s name is that?”
“This is a secret elevator that will lead you to a private parking lot, Mrs. Hawthorne. It’s built for cases exactly like these, to ensure privacy for some of our well-known patients.”
I’m still reeling at the sight of such James Bond technology in our sweet small town, where all the innocent grandmas think they know everything about everyone.
“I hope you and Mr. Hawthorne will be using this elevator together soon.” The doctor winks as I follow Ray and Quill inside.
“I’ve already texted Dave that I’ll be giving you a ride home.”
My gaze continues to move between Ray and Quill, who’s sleeping peacefully on her father’s chest, her breaths soft and even.
“How come no one knows about her?”
“Who says no one does? All the relevant people do.” His omnipresent cocky smirk is right there on his face. But when I don’t look away, Ray makes himself busy brushing invisible lint from his pants—the only sign of unease.
“Then let me ask again. Why are you keeping her hidden from irrelevant people like me? And where’s her mother?” I whisper, careful not to disturb Quill.
But Ray is done playing nice.
“Why don’t you worry about your own secrets, sis? Because if my sources are correct, your dad didn’t have an appointment at the hospital today.”
I gasp. “Are you spying on my dad?”
“Don’t be dramatic. Jason texted me about going on a hike with Kai and invited me along.” Ray pushes his phone toward me, revealing a picture my father sent just an hour ago of him and Kai having a picnic in the forest.
Ray had replied with a thumbs-up emoji. I’m about to scroll up, but before I can read anything further, he snatches his phone back.
“You talk to my dad? How did he even get your number?”
“He asked at the last Christmas party.” Ray shrugs as if it’s no big deal.
But don’t I know how seriously these men take their privacy? Charles’ private number is shared with fewer than ten people, and I’m sure the same is true for Ray.
“Why would you do that?”
“He’s a good, genuine person, unlike most people these days.” He raises an eyebrow. “So, are you going to tell me why you’re hanging around the OB-GYN department dressed like a teenager?”
Within the next second, my brain has crafted lies ranging from meeting a friend who just had a baby to picking up some stuff from a neighbor, who’s a doctor in that wing. But for some reason, the words remain trapped in my throat.
Looks like I’ve finally consumed my daily quota of lying.
“I had my first appointment…at the OB-GYN.”
“Does Charlie know?” Unlike my pounding heart, Ray’s voice is calmer than an instructor on a meditation app.
“He doesn’t need to.” I shake my head. Do I care about him telling Charles? Maybe a little, but it will come out eventually. It’s not like I can hide this from Charles forever.
“May I ask how you reached that conclusion?”
“Can you stop doing that? Speaking in that ice-cold voice,” I blurt, running my hands over my arms involuntarily. “It’s giving me chills over here.”
Ray finally loses his stoic expression and runs a hand over his face.
“What’s going on, Daisy? Why isn’t Charlie with you?”
“He doesn’t know,” I whisper. “He doesn’t want kids.”
“Isn’t it a bit late for that?”
“It was a mistake,” I whisper slowly.
If I thought I knew how Raymond Teager looks when he’s angry, I was horribly mistaken.
If looks could kill, I’d be burning in flames right now.
“I expected a better answer from you, Daisy, at least on this matter. Coming from someone who was taken in by strangers, the word mistake sounds a bit harsh, wouldn’t you agree?”
I stiffen at his venomous tone.
“Charles told you about my childhood?” My words are low, embarrassed and annoyed, but he shakes his head.
“You really think we wouldn’t do a background check on the girl our cousin marries?”
“If you know everything, then don’t you know how Charles feels about babies?”
So many emotions fly across Ray’s face, yet he remembers to cover Quill’s visible ear with his hand.
“How does that fucking matter now? You’re pregnant. He’s going to be a father. With all due respect, his feelings can go fuck themselves.”
Watching Ray fight for his cousin’s unborn child tightens my throat.
“Charles never hid his feelings about being a dad, and I respect that. And who am I to judge someone’s fears?”
“You’re his wife, aren’t you?” Ray nods toward my wedding ring.
“Since you know so much, I’m sure the reality of our marriage isn’t a secret to you and your brothers.”
He’s about to say something when I bring my hand forward. “Please. I can’t talk about this anymore. I’m grateful for your help at the hospital, but this”—I motion toward my belly—“doesn’t concern you.”
Isn’t he the one who doesn’t even consider me relevant enough to know about his daughter?