24. Rosie
24
ROSIE
Daire slams his palms on the counter, startling the nurse on the other side.
“Sammy—Samuel Jensen, where is he?”
The nurse taps her keyboard, her attention fixed on the computer screen. “And you are?”
“His father,” Daire pants. “Please. I need to know if he’s okay.”
Sympathy fills the nurse’s face. “He’s been moved to pediatrics.”
“Where’s that?” I ask, gently grasping Daire’s arm.
“Third floor. Take a left and then a right when you get off the elevators.”
I give her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
When I turn around, Daire’s already jogging for the elevators, so I have to run to catch up.
He holds the elevator doors open for me as I approach, his face a mask of panic. “Hurry.”
I step on beside him and clutch his hand. He tugs it from my hold before I can get a firm grip. A violent wave of embarrassment floods me as he takes a step away.
“Sorry.” He leans against the side of the elevator and hangs his head. “I just… I can’t right now. Not until I know he’s okay.”
I nod in understanding, even if hurt still sits heavy in my chest.
When the elevator opens, he’s running again. My fluffy boots make it impossible to keep up.
He pauses in front of the pediatric doors, panting.
I slide to a stop beside him and study his profile. “What are you waiting for?”
His Adam’s apple bobs, and he turns worried eyes my way. “What if he’s not okay? What if he’s hurt? What if… what if?—”
I shake my head and place a gentle hand on his arm. “Don’t go there. Not yet.”
He sniffles and takes a deep breath that quakes through his whole body. “Okay, okay.” He chants, rolling his shoulder back.
He shuffles forward and pushes the call button next to the double doors, then takes a step back.
A smooth voice echoes through the speaker on the wall. “How can I help you?”
“I… uh… I’m Samuel Jensen’s father. I got a call that there’d been an accident and I needed to get here right away.”
“Oh. Of course.”
There’s a buzzing sound, and then the doors glide open.
The desk is around the corner, lit brightly by the halogens above despite the late hour.
“I need to see your ID first,” the nurse says, standing from her rolling chair.
Daire fumbles in his pocket for his wallet. When he finally gets it out, he hands her the whole thing, hands shaking.
She doesn’t bat an eye, just opens it up and looks from his ID to her computer screen, then up at him.
Passing it back, she looks to me. “And you are?”
“My wife. She’s my wife.” Trembling, Daire runs his fingers through his hair. “Please, is my son okay?”
“Room six,” she says, her tone gentle, and points. “It’s that one.”
Daire keeps his feet planted and turns to me, blinking. I nod, encouraging him.
Junior is in a room. In the pediatric unit. Not the ER. That has to be a good sign, right?
I put my hand on his back and whisper a gentle “go.”
It’s all the encouragement he needs. With a shuddering breath, he moves forward, his steps brisk, until he reaches the door to room six.
Inside, we both come to an abrupt stop. The social worker we met with this afternoon is standing on one side of the room, along with a police officer.
Daire assesses them and opens his mouth, but before he can speak, movement from the other side of the room catches his attention. Sammy is lying in a crib, wearing nothing but a diaper. He’s hooked up to monitors, but he looks fine, at least on the outside.
“Hey, buddy,” Daire croons, shuffling over and reaching his finger out to the baby.
Sammy stirs, closing his hand around Daire’s finger, his eyes fluttering sleepily.
“Daddy’s here.” The gentleness in Daire’s tone is so painfully sweet.
I take a step closer to the social worker and officer, arms crossed over my chest. “Can someone tell us what’s going on?”
“We’re waiting for your lawyer to arrive,” the social worker tells me. He can’t be more than a few years older than us, but he looks tired. Like he’d rather be anywhere else. “You might as well make yourselves comfortable.” He motions to the chair on my left.
I don’t feel much like sitting, so I step up to the crib beside Daire and run my fingers through Sammy’s downy soft hair.
“It’s weird that Danielle and her husband aren’t here,” I whisper. “Do you think they’re talking to a doctor?”
Daire shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
Thankfully, Daire’s lawyer strides in only a few minutes after we arrive. It’s nearly one in the morning, yet her makeup is impeccable and there’s not one wrinkle in her dress suit.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, setting her bag on a plastic chair. Clapping her hands, she turns to where Daire and I stand. “Have they given you any information?”
Daire shakes his head. “I got here as fast as I could after you called.”
“We haven’t been here long,” I add, worry sitting heavy in my gut.
“All right.” Nina tucks her hair behind her ear and clears her throat. “Then I guess it’s up to me to inform you that Mr. and Mrs. Jensen have passed away.”
My heart stops, and I blink, certain I’ve heard her wrong. “Passed away?” I look from her to Daire with a frown. “Like… dead?”
It’s perhaps the dumbest question I could possibly ask, but right now, my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders.
Daire doesn’t take his eyes off his son when he says, “You… you said there was an accident. I thought you meant Sammy was hurt. I didn’t…” He shakes his head. “I didn’t think to ask about them.”
Nina nods solemnly, hands gently folded together in front of her. “It’s why they didn’t arrive for the scheduled meeting. It… um… took a while to get them out of the car and for everything to get settled.” She nods toward the social worker and officer.
Daire rubs the side of his face with his free hand. The other is still occupied with Sammy’s fist wrapped around his index finger. “This is a lot to take in.”
“I understand.” Nina nods. “It’s late. We’ll discuss everything tomorrow. And by tomorrow, I do mean the twenty-sixth. I have to play Santa for my kids.”
Shit. I didn’t even realize it’s already Christmas day.
“So, what happens next? Is Sammy okay?”
“A doctor will be in shortly to speak with you,” the social worker pipes up. “I have some papers I need to go over with you—it’s about temporary custody. We should do that while your lawyer is still here.”
Daire nods, his complexion paler than normal. “Yeah. All right.”
“There’s a private room down the hall.” This comes from the cop who hasn’t spoken until now. I honestly forgot the guy was in the room.
“Okay.” Daire nods woodenly. “Will you stay with him?” he asks me.
“Yeah.” I give his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Of course.”
When it’s only Sammy and me, the room is eerily quiet. I stand beside his crib, watching him, at a loss for what else to do. After a few minutes, he flails and fusses.
“Shh,” I croon, touching his cheek. I wish I knew more about kids and how to comfort him. The poor thing is hooked up to machines monitoring who knows what. I don’t even want to think about how bad the accident must have been if his mom and… well, dad, for lack of a better way to describe the guy, didn’t survive.
It hits me then—that Sammy has lost the only parents he knows.
And he’s stuck with us.
His biological father and a… me.
Two people who’ve been doing all we can to prepare to have shared custody of him but who are sorely lacking in hands-on experience.
“Oh, Sammy.” I smooth his soft blond hair back. “What are we going to do?”
His bottom lip juts out, wobbling.
“Please, don’t cry,” I beg. “I don’t know what to do if you cry. I’m not even sure I’m allowed to pick you up.”
What are we going to do?
The house is babyproofed, and we took the CPR class. We’ve even watched numerous videos, but all the information we’ve received feels useless when I consider having to actually care for a tiny human.
I find myself running through a mental checklist of what I remember and noting things we might still need to do.
It’s all so overwhelming, but it pales in comparison to what this baby has been through in the past twelve hours.
I didn’t know Danielle or her husband, but it doesn’t matter. They lost their lives, and that’s tragic.
I wipe a tear off my cheek. “We’re going to take good care of you, Sammy,” I say, stroking his head. “You’re already so loved by us.”
I pull the chair up beside his crib and sit. I don’t have much of a voice, but I sing to him, nonetheless, hoping it’ll comfort him since I’m not sure I can hold him.
Shockingly, it only takes a few moments for his eyes to grow heavy.
As he drifts off, I curl my legs beneath me and settle into the chair to wait for the others to return.
At some point, I doze off, but when my head lolls, I pop my eyes open and scan the room. Sammy is sleeping peacefully. I’m peering at him, studying his features and fighting a yawn when Daire enters the room. He smiles at the sleeping baby before crouching down in front of me.
Taking both my hands in his, he whispers, “I’ve been granted temporary custody. We’ll have to attend a hearing to establish permanent custody, but Nina said it shouldn’t be an issue. Danielle and her husband don’t have any family that should give us any trouble.”
I nod, wiping the sleep from my eyes. “When can we take him home?”
This cold, white place can’t be good for a baby.
“The hospital wants to monitor him for another couple of hours to be sure they haven’t missed anything.” He plucks his keys from his pocket and hands them to me. “Are you okay to drive home? You could get a few hours of sleep and come back and get us when he’s discharged. I didn’t even think to grab his car seat or anything before we rushed out.”
I take the keys from him, trying not to yawn again, wishing I could stay but knowing he’s right. I’ll need to prepare to bring him home. “Yeah, I can do that. Keep me updated, okay?”
He steps back, giving me room to stand. “I will.” He drops a kiss to the corner of my mouth.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply, hating myself for wanting more. A real kiss.
“Be careful. Text me when you’re home.”
“I will.” I look at Sammy sleeping peacefully in the crib, then I slip out of the room.
I get turned around approximately three times before I find the emergency entrance. When we arrived, I was so focused on helping Daire get to Sammy that I barely registered our surroundings and just how large the hospital is.
I’m dead on my feet by the time I enter the house and stomp snow off my boots in the entry. After hanging up my coat, I bend down to undo the laces, then pull my boots off.
Every cell in my body longs to be with Daire, but we need the car seat and supplies, and getting a few hours of sleep in my own bed before we bring Sammy home is probably a good idea.
My bed calls to me, but after being in the hospital, I want to shower first. I scrub my body practically raw and dive under the covers. I’m out within minutes, and when I wake up and check my phone, there’s a text waiting for me from Daire telling me that the earliest they’ll be discharged is ten.
“Holy shit,” I mutter to myself, collapsing back on my pillows.
There’s going to be a baby living here. Permanently.
The events of last night come rushing over me.
In a blink, everything has changed. Here we were, preparing for court and a fight to establish some sort of shared custody, and now… now poor Sammy doesn’t have his mom. It breaks my heart. I didn’t know the woman, and I might’ve hated her for having Daire’s child, but the fact that she’s gone? Just like that? It’s scary how quickly it can all come to an end.
I hastily make my bed and throw on a sweater and jeans. Then I hurry into the nursery I’ve worked so hard on creating. Thank God all the furniture has finally arrived.
Once I’ve tossed a couple of Sammy’s new outfits, along with a few diapers and wipes, into the diaper bag I ordered, I spin in a circle. “Do I need anything else?” I ask aloud, filling the silence. “Blanket.” I answer my own question.
I zip the bag, then carry it downstairs and set it, along with the car seat, by the door.
Munching on an energy bar, I pace the length of the kitchen. We have bottles, but we don’t have formula, and I don’t know what kind he needs.
“This is too much.” I fan my face with my hands. “Get your shit together, Rosie.”
With a calming breath, I pluck my phone out of my back pocket and text Daire; Ask a nurse or something what kind of formula I need to get.
It doesn’t take long before he sends me a screenshot of one.
Me: I’ll pick that up before I get you guys. Ten still seeming likely?
Daire: Probably closer to 12. The doctor is running behind.
Me: Anything you want me to bring you?
Daire: Nah. I’ll just shower and change when I get home. We can eat lunch then too.
Me: All right. Keep me posted.
I set my phone down and resume my pacing. My brain is having an extra difficult time dealing with this rapid turn of events.
Why didn’t we take more classes?
Read more parenting books?
Watching tutorials?
Wait, are parenting tutorials a thing? Probably not.
I’m a certifiable mess.
I didn’t bother with makeup when I was getting ready, but since I have time to kill, I trudge back upstairs. When I’m finished, it’s still a bit too early to leave, but I can’t be in this house a second longer.
I shrug into my coat and swipe my keys and purse off the small table in the laundry room, then I’m out the door.
Walmart is on my way, and thankfully open, so I run in and get the formula, but once I’m back in the car, I freeze behind the wheel.
It hits me in intervals, what a big deal all of this is. Daire’s going to be Sammy’s sole guardian. Sammy’s mom is gone, just like that. It’s easy to forget how fragile life really is. We take it for granted—believing we’re destined to live until we’re old and gray and die peacefully in our sleep, but that isn’t always the case.
I take a deep breath.
Then another when that isn’t enough.
Before I pull out of the parking lot, I send a text to Daire that I’m headed his way. He sends back a thumbs-up.
Daire: We should be discharged by the time you get here.
We’re bringing a baby home with us.
A real-life, screaming, eating, and pooping baby.
Daire’s baby.
“You can do this, Rosie. It’s a baby, not a snake. People keep them alive every day. You can do the same.”
Right?
I put on a playlist and crank the music up to drown out my thoughts as I drive.
When I arrive at the hospital, I have to circle the lot a few times before I find a parking spot.
I take out the car seat, along with a stuffed dinosaur from the nursery that I thought Sammy might like and the diaper bag that I definitely overpacked.
My heart pounds the entire trek through the hospital up to the room. By the time I step inside, I’m sweating. The doctor is just leaving, so I step to one side and give a polite smile as he passes.
“Hey, I’m here,” I say, still breathless from the walk.
Daire turns around to face me, Sammy cradled against his bare chest.
And just like that, my poor ovaries implode.
“Where’s your shirt?” I blurt.
He chuckles, kissing the top of Sammy’s downy soft blond hair. “The nurse suggested that even though he’s six months, skin to skin might help with bonding.”
“Bonding.” I swallow, taking in all six feet and four inches of a shirtless Daire holding a baby. “Bonding is fun.”
I set the car seat on the floor while Daire puts Sammy into the crib and picks up the diaper bag. He shuffles through the clothes I stuffed in there and settles on a cute pair of footie pajamas covered in a caterpillar print.
Sammy wiggles around, giving Daire a hard time as he tries to wrangle him into the sleeper. Finally he manages, and then it’s time to put him in the car seat. We’re both silent as we stare at the contraption.
“You put him in.” Daire holds the baby out to me.
“Me?” I practically shriek, holding my hands against my chest. “He’s yours.”
“I don’t know how all those straps and things works. What if I put him in wrong?” He frowns, his eyes pleading. “The only reason he’s still alive is because he was strapped into a good car seat properly.”
I take a deep breath. “We’re in a hospital. Surely a nurse could help us.”
“A nurse,” he practically shouts, his face lighting up. “Great idea.”
He all but shoves the infant into my arms and runs out of the room.
Sammy blinks at me, his big blue eyes round with curiosity. “Hi.” I put my hand behind his head. I’m not sure whether it still needs to be supported, but it makes me feel better to do it anyway. “How are you?”
God, Rosie, what a dumb question to ask a baby!
His little body stiffens, and he starts to fuss, so I gently rock from side to side while making a shushing sound. “It’s okay, your daddy will be back any second.”
Sure enough, Daire breezes back in a moment later with a nurse.
He’s still shirtless, and the sight of his abs is enough to send my libido into overdrive. It’s been way too long since I’ve had sex, and the craving is even worse after Daire proved how good an orgasm that isn’t of my own making can feel.
“Can you put a shirt on?” I practically beg him.
He grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Like what you see, baby?”
Baby.
I think I just melted into a puddle.
I’ve never liked the endearment, but when Daire says it, I love it.
He scoops up his long-sleeve Henley and tugs it on.
The nurse clears her throat. My cheeks heat with embarrassment. I didn’t mean to stare at his abs as they disappeared, but oops, guilty.
“You guys wanted some help strapping in the little one?”
“Yes, please.” I smile gratefully.
“All right, go ahead and put him in, and I’ll show you.”
I crouch and gently set Sammy in the car seat.
The nurse lowers herself beside me, and then Daire joins us.
“First things first, put his arms through the straps. Then we’re going to buckle it into the part down here. Now, this is the part that probably has you guys stressed.” She taps the chest buckle. “Snap them together, and then we’re going to tighten it. It should rest here at shoulder height. And you should have about this much room between the straps and his body.” She demonstrates with her fingers by pinching the strap.
“What about a coat?” I ask. “It’s cold out.”
The nurse shakes her head. “We don’t recommend putting coats on when kids are in a car seat. It can cause them to slip out of the straps if there’s an accident because there’s too much space here.” She pinches it again. “It’s overwhelming, but I promise it’s easier than you think.”
“Thank you for your help,” Daire tells her, standing.
I stand too, my knee popping as I do.
The nurse leaves, giving us a small wave, and then it’s just the three of us.
This weird pseudo-family.
And it’s going to be the three of us from now on.
Until Daire and I divorce, that is.
Daire picks up the carrier and reaches for my hand. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
Home.
Yeah, that sounds good.