Chapter 40 Spencer
FORTY
SPENCER
The next four days blur together like rain on glass.
We take turns at Esme’s bedside—never both of us at once. It’s hospital policy.
One parent in the room, the other waiting. Sometimes in the corridor. Sometimes in the small family lounge with dim lights and bad coffee. Sometimes just walking circles around the building because neither of us can stand to sit still.
Each morning, I drive home to shower and change clothes. I keep my phone in the bathroom, ringer on high, just in case.
And then I return.
I rent a hotel room next to the hospital for Rhea—have Gina arrange for it to be stocked with snacks, toiletries, comfy backup clothes, and ginger ale.
She never stays there overnight. She won’t leave Esme that long. But sometimes, when I’m with Esme, she slips away for a nap.
In the beginning, Esme sleeps. A lot. Sedated, mostly, but also bone-deep exhausted. Her tiny body rises and falls under the weight of machines and medicine. We watch. We wait. We breathe with her.
By day four, her color is better. Her breath slower, steadier. The sedation is lighter, and when she stirs, her hands twitch toward the wires on her chest and the IV in her arm.
She’s disoriented and cranky—and more alive than she’s been since the night Rhea called me.
It’s progress.
I read to her, and talk to her, about whatever comes to mind.
Rhea says, just talk, assume she understands it all. So, I talk her through the Bradford Group deal that’s closing next week, and the names of every French pastry I plan to introduce her to one day. And how we’ll rank them by flakiness, chocolate content, and joy.
But when she’s upset, I’m out of my comfort zone. I’m not sure how to calm her, or what to do when she fusses. I don’t have the magic touch that Rhea does.
On day five, Laney shows up. She’s there when I step out to hand off the baton.
“Spencer, this is Laney, your conspirator on the France trip.” Rhea says, trying to smile.
“Hey, Laney, good to finally meet you in person.” I’m on autopilot, and don’t have much else to offer. Laney sees it.
“Good to meet you, too, Spencer. And I hope you won’t think me rude, but you both look like you’ve been run over by a freight train.”
Rhea lets out a hollow laugh, “Well, it feels a bit like that, to be honest.”
I nod in agreement. “If not a freight train, at least a bus.”
“I’m banning you both from Esme’s room for the next three hours. So get out of here and go take care of yourselves. Take a nap, get some food, take a walk.”
Rhea starts to protest. “No, we can’t leave her…”
“I’m her damned second mother, Rhea. You leave me with her five days a week. I think I can three hours.”
So we go.
I propose a restaurant I know not far from here. She wonders if we should both just get some sleep. We agree on taking a walk outside, breathing the air, and stretching our bodies a bit.
It’s the first time we’ve really been together for more than a few minutes between shifts since the first day.
It’s beautiful and sunny outside, and we just walk. Not saying much, not holding hands. Just walking.
Then my phone buzzes.
Gina.
“I think I need to take this,” I say, “She’s screening things pretty tight, so it must be something…“
“Yes. Go. Take it.” She says, “I’ll hang out on that bench.”
“Hey, Gina. What’s up?”
There’s a pause. “Well,” she says. “The paternity test results are back.”
“Back?” I say, “ I didn’t even think it had been done.”
“It’s done,” she says, her voice softer than usual. ‘Spencer, she’s yours.”
I press my eyes shut, the words landing differently than I expect—even though I already knew.
“I know,” I say quietly.
“Well, you’ve definitely been acting like it this week,” Gina says. “Going to great lengths to save her life and all.”
“Gina, that was the right thing to do, either way. I may not like what Rhea did, but I care about her, and she needed help. Esme needed help.”
“Well, you know me. I wasn’t a believer. Wasn’t convinced she was telling the truth.”
“Really? I had no idea,” I sneer, dripping with sarcasm. “Here, I always thought you liked her.”
“I still don’t get why she didn’t come out with it sooner. But I will give her this - that girl is not a gold digger. In fact, if she is after your money, she’s got a piss-poor way of going at it.”
I let that land, then glance down the walk, where Rhea sits staring up at the sky.
“Yeah. I know.”
“So she’s yours. And you’re there with her. What now? Should I have your attorney start drafting a custodial trust? Educational account? Shared custody agreement?”
“No! No. Not now. Not yet. Jesus!” I snap, “Right now, I just need to see her breathe on her own. I need to see her leave this hospital. The rest can wait.”
Gina’s quiet for a second.
Then, in that no-nonsense voice I know so well, asks, “Spencer?”
“Yes?” Irritation starting to bubble up.
“Do you love her?”
“Esme? Of course. She’s my flesh and blood.”
“That I get. And I’m glad. But I didn’t mean Esme.”
I lean forward, rubbing the back of my neck.
“I mean Rhea. Do you love her?”
I’m staring at her, still. And even through the distance I can feel the pull. I hesitate. “I thought I did.”
“But?” she prompts.
“But she lied,” I say flatly. “She kept Esme from me.”
There’s a long breath on the other end.
“Well, buddy, as a single mom myself, let me just tell you—keeping a man out of a child’s life and doing it alone isn’t something most women choose unless they’re convinced it’s the only thing that’s right.”
I don’t respond for a long moment.
“So what, now you’re trying to push me toward her?” I say. “After months of trying to convince me I should forget all about her?”
“It’s different now, Spence,” she says, her voice firm. “Now you’re a dad.”