“Night, Viv.”
“Night, Seth.”
She caught a waft of his aftershave as he turned away, and she could feel the spot where he’d kissed her, her skin tingling from the slight rasp of his stubble. He shut the car door quietly, then disappeared into the house. She waited until a light came on inside before reversing into the street.
She felt both relieved and guilty as she headed home—relieved because she was in a position to drive away from the heavy sadness that had taken over Seth’s world, and guilty for the same reason.
He would be okay, though. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she did. Despite his devil-may-care demeanor, there was a very grounded solidity to Seth, something she’d only really understood tonight.
Yep, he was going to be okay. But it might take him a while to get there.
* * *
CALLING LOLA’S PARENTS was the hardest thing Seth had ever had to do in his life. It had been tempting to put it off even after he’d done an online search and confirmed it was 10:00 a.m. there, but his gut told him that the news wasn’t going to get any better.
Maybe that made him the world’s biggest pessimist, but the doctors and nurses had been very conservative in their predictions for Lola’s chances. He figured he’d be an idiot to ignore their expertise.
Lola’s father, Dennis, answered, and Seth introduced himself before saying he had some bad news. By the time he’d finished, Seth felt ten years older and as close to weeping as he’d ever been.
Dennis and Melissa signaled their intention to be on the first plane possible, and they exchanged contact details before Seth assured them he would be in touch the second he heard anything new. One of his key roles in this drama, he was quickly learning, was keeping all of Lola’s loved ones informed.
It was the least he could do, as well as the most. At the moment anyway.
Afterward, he floated around the house, gritty-eyed with tiredness but still buzzing with adrenaline, his mind crammed with thoughts. Chief amongst them was his daughter, the red-faced little miracle he’d held in his arms for too few minutes tonight.
She’d been so light. He hadn’t expected that. It had been a few years now since Sam had been a baby; he’d forgotten how damned tiny they were. Little fingers, microscopic nails. Squashed-flat noses and curled-up bodies. His daughter’s head had been beautifully round, however, unlike his nephews’, since she’d been in the breech position and had been delivered via emergency C-section.
She’d been deeply asleep, her eyes screwed tightly shut. He could still remember the incredible softness of her cheek and the silky texture of the shock of blond hair on her head.
They wanted to keep her in the hospital for a while to monitor her progress and ensure she gained weight, but after that she would be ready to come home. His home, now, not Lola’s.
He pivoted as the thought hit him, heading up the hallway to the room he’d mentally allocated as the baby’s when he’d learned Lola was pregnant and had finished freaking out about it.
It was a junk room at present, filled with all the flotsam and jetsam that hadn’t found a home anywhere else. An old bed frame, the office chair he’d used before he bought a more comfortable one, boxes of old CDs and books, a lamp with a crooked shade. He’d thought he would have time to prepare it for the baby, figuring she would need to be near her mother for at least the first six months of her life and that sleepovers would be some way off as of yet.
But Lola would not be breastfeeding their child. She would be lucky if she even knew she had a daughter.
It hit him then, the visceral reality of it. Lola, all blond hair and long legs and loud, raucous laughter, was fighting for her life in a hospital bed, her baby cut from her body to save them both.
“Jesus.” He pinched the bridge of his nose so hard it hurt, but it didn’t stop the tears from coming.
He sank into the manky office chair, hung his head and let the tears roll down his face and drip from his chin. He might have felt like a complete moron for getting Lola pregnant, and he might have had some serious reservations about how they were going to negotiate their relationship once the baby was born. But he wouldn’t wish this on his worst enemy, let alone a woman with whom he’d laughed and had sex and more than his fair share of vodka shots.
Come on, Lola. Show us all what you’ve got. Show those doctors they don’t have a clue. Get through this. Wake up and meet our girl.
His hands were fisted with the force of his plea to the universe. Slowly he loosened them. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and pushed himself to his feet.
He turned off the light and went to his bedroom, stripping to his underwear before hitting the en suite. He eyed his reflection in the mirror while he brushed his teeth. He looked fifty, every line etched deep, his skin pulled too tightly over the bones of his face.
He expected to stare at the ceiling for hours once he hit the bed, but he dropped off almost immediately, his weary mind checking out. He woke to the sound of persistent knocking at the door, and it took him a moment to blink himself to wakefulness.
As soon as he opened his eyes, it was all there, bearing down on him. Lola, the accident, the baby. He threw back the covers and went to let in his brother, smiling wearily when Jason passed him a giant coffee as he stepped over the threshold.
“You’re a legend. Bless you.”
“I got bagels, too. How are you doing?”
Before he could answer, Jason enveloped him in a hug that threatened to crack a rib or two.
“I’m so sorry, man. So sorry,” Jason said brokenly. He and Jodie had met Lola a couple of times before she’d gotten pregnant.
“Yeah. Me, too.” Seth had to blink to clear his vision. He led his brother into the kitchen and set down his coffee. “Give me two minutes to shower.”
“I’ll save you a bagel.”
He was back in five, reaching for the coffee before taking a seat opposite his brother.
“Did you contact Lola’s parents?”
“They’re flying out as soon as they can.”
“Jodie wants to know if you need help with the baby. Did they say when she can come home?”
Even though he’d spent time in the spare room last night, thinking about what needed doing, he still felt a bone-deep shock at the notion that home would be with him for the foreseeable future. Maybe forever.
He explained that the doctors wanted to keep an eye on the baby until they were confident she was gaining weight and holding her own.
“As for her coming home, I need to sort out the spare room. I thought I had a few months before she’d be able to stay nights with me.”
“Jodie and I will clear it out for you today,” Jason said without hesitation. “Leave your house keys with me. Anything in there you want to keep or should we donate it all?”
“Just dump it. I’ve been meaning to get rid of it all for ages.” Seth’s throat got tight. He’d always known his brother was solid, but it was insanely reassuring to know he had his back. Jodie, too. And the way Vivian had stepped up last night...she’d been incredible.
“I owe Vivian the mother of all apologies,” he said, rubbing his forehead.
“Yep, you do. But she’ll forgive you. Probably already has.”
Seth scowled into his coffee. He didn’t want to be forgiven because this shit storm had descended on his life. He wanted to earn it.
The phone rang, making him start. He practically leaped out of his seat to grab it. As he’d hoped—and feared—it was the hospital, and he listened intently and made notes as they told him that Lola had stabilized and that he would be allowed to visit her if he wanted to.
“Thank you. I appreciate the call,” he said.
He filled in Jason, then texted Zara. He checked the time in the U.K., and decided to send an email instead of calling to update the Browns. Then, after a small hesitation, he asked his brother if he had Vivian’s number.
“Sure. I’ll shoot it to you.”
A second later, his phone chimed with the shared contact and he texted Vivian a quick update.
Lola stable, am allowed to visit. Hope you got some shut-eye. Thanks again for last night.
“Eat this in the car.” Jason passed over the bakery bag, clearly sensing Seth’s eagerness to be on his way to the hospital. “Anything we’re unsure about tossing I’ll store in the garage, okay?”
“Cool. And thanks, Jase.”
“Mate, I wish this wasn’t happening, but you gotta know you’re not in this alone. Whatever you need.”
They hugged again, and Seth had to fight the prick of tears. Apparently almost losing your ex-girlfriend and your daughter turned a guy into a complete sooky la-la. Something he could have lived without knowing.
Minutes later he was on the road, eating a bagel one-handed while steering through dozy Sunday-morning traffic. His thoughts raced ahead of him to the hospital. He wanted to hold his daughter again. Maybe this time she would open her eyes for him.
And he wanted to see Lola, no matter how traumatic that might prove to be. She needed to have someone who cared for her with her. She needed to know she had reasons to live.
God, he hoped she was going to be okay. That the doctors had gotten it wrong this time. That he wouldn’t have to deliver more bad news to her parents.
The hospital parking lot was depressingly full, and he had to park in one of its far-flung corners. He sat in the car for a few minutes, trying to get his thoughts straight before heading inside.
He needed to keep a clear head today. He needed to listen, to ask the right questions, and be the best advocate he could be for both his daughter and Lola. Because neither of them had anyone else.
Letting his breath out on a harsh sigh, he opened the door and went to face the future.
* * *
VIVIAN WOKE AT ten and immediately rolled over to check her phone. Sure enough, there was a text there. The only surprise was that it was from Seth instead of her sister.
Lola was stable. He was allowed to see her.
Thank. God.
She closed her eyes for a moment, images from last night flashing across her mind. The hospital. Seth’s face as he held his daughter. The life-interrupted messiness of Lola’s bedroom.
It was all so sad. Poor Lola. And poor Seth.
She flung back the covers. After Jodie’s revelation yesterday, sympathy was the last emotion she’d expected to be feeling toward Seth today, which just went to show that life was a complete crapshoot.
She was tempted to call Seth for a more current update now that she had his number, but managed to stop herself from doing so. He had enough people hanging on his coattails, asking for reassurance right now. She would not add to his stress by making herself one. She would ask her sister to keep her up to speed. That would have to do.
She spent the day setting her place to rights, leaving all the doors and windows open to let the warm summer breeze sweep through her second-floor apartment. Part of a boutique development, the space had been carved out of an old shoe factory, and the walls were exposed brick, with bright red water pipes running from floor to ceiling in one corner. It was a rental, but she already felt at home here.
She’d brought only a few items she couldn’t bear to part with from L.A., freight costs being so exorbitant. The huge chinoiserie chaise she’d bought at a yard sale in Beverly Hills, the Hollywood Regency dining chairs and table, a few boxes of kitchenware. And, of course, her clothes.
It was late afternoon by the time she’d finished washing the floors and finally gave in to the need to call her sister.
“Hey. Have you heard anything?” she asked the second Jodie picked up.
“Seth’s been at the hospital all day, but he rang a couple of hours ago to say that he’d seen Lola.” There was an ominous heaviness to her sister’s words.
“That bad, huh?”
“I gather she’s pretty messed up. Seth sounded like someone had hit him on the head with a shovel.”
Viv sank onto the arm of the chaise. “What about the baby?”
“She’s doing fine. He gave her his first feed, and the nurses were apparently impressed by his diaper-changing skills, something I’m more than happy to take the credit for.”
“That’s great.”
“He’s under orders to come up with a name. We can’t keep calling her The Baby.”
“They must have had some names picked out?”
“According to Seth, they had a short list of ten for each gender.”
“Wow. That’s a long short list.”
“I know. I think Seth wants to talk to her parents before he makes the final decision. Since Lola can’t cast her own vote.”
Vivian sighed. Every time she thought she had a grip on how grim this situation was, something new popped up.
“How’s Seth sound?”
“Tired, but he’s hanging in there. You’ll be pleased to know he told Jase he owed you some serious belly crawling.”
“He does, but it can wait.”
“Listen, I gotta go. We’re clearing out Seth’s spare room for the baby and Jason needs my help moving the bed frame.”
“What? You should have called, I could have helped.” Vivian frowned as she registered the strident urgency in her voice. She figured her sister must have noticed it, too, because there was a small silence.
“I didn’t think you’d be that keen on helping Seth out again, all things considered,” Jodie said carefully.
“It’s kind of an all-bets-are-off situation, don’t you think?”
“I guess. Listen, I’ll call you if there’s anything new, okay?”
Vivian dusted her hands down her vintage 501 jeans after she ended the call. She wasn’t quite sure where the urgent I-must-help-Seth impulse had come from. She felt sorry for him, of course, but there was no need for her to be insistent with her sympathy. And she was still pissed with him. So, really, there wasn’t a single reason under the sun for her to be feeling the urge to snatch up her car keys and go help her sister and Jason fix up Seth’s spare room.
“I feel sorry for him. That’s all it is. Pity,” she said out loud.
It sounded perfectly reasonable, and she decided she was going to roll with it, even though her gut told her it wasn’t the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
Jodie kept her informed on Seth’s progress throughout Monday, but the reports dried up on Tuesday. Vivian fretted all day, unable to concentrate on the upcoming shoot she had for an online fashion retailer. It was only a week away, and generally by this time she liked to have all her clothes and accessories specified, with a few variations at the ready should the client not be happy with what she’d come up with. So far, she had about half the shoot complete and a mishmash of props and accessories chosen.
Every time she hit a snag or paused to consider a color or texture combination, her brain slid from work to Seth. He was in such a difficult situation, with so much weight bearing down on him. If she were in his shoes, she would be freaking out 24/7.
It didn’t help that it was a stinking hot day and every time she glanced out the window, bright blue skies beckoned. She gave up the battle at four, tossing down her pen and heading off to search for Robin.
She found him in the stockroom, rummaging amongst his light stands, muttering to himself. As usual, he looked runway-ready good-looking—hair perfect, clothes crisp and effortlessly stylish despite the hot day.
“Hey, crazy man, I’m outta here.”
“You haven’t seen my spare umbrella stand, have you?” Robin sat back on his heels, an exasperated expression on his face.
“Didn’t we use it for the ad shoot last week?”
He snapped his fingers. “You’re right. It’s still in the van.” He sprang to his feet, ready to race off.
“Before you go. What should I buy for someone who has just had a baby and almost lost his ex under tragic circumstances and who may or may not be completely freaking out about all of the above?”
/> Robin paused, his grey eyes narrowing. “This is your brother-in-law, right?”
“My brother-in-law’s brother, if we’re being technical about it.”
“Well, if we’re being technical about it, I think he’s still your brother-in-law.”
“Okay, Rain Man. Yes, it’s for my brother-in-law. I was thinking I might drop in on my way home to see how he’s doing.”
“I thought you said his place was in Ivanhoe?”
“I did.”
“And you live in Brunswick, which is five minutes from here, versus almost half an hour to Ivanhoe, in the wrong direction.”
“What’s your point?” she asked, feeling caught out for the second time in as many days.
“No point. As long as you’re aware that you’re making excuses to see the guy.”
“I feel sorry for him.”
“Okay. Sure.” Robin tilted his head, considering. “Scotch. I’d buy him a bottle of expensive Scotch.”
“He owns a bar.”
“So he’ll appreciate the good stuff. See you tomorrow.” Robin strode off, pastel-pink Ralph Lauren shirt billowing behind him.
She tried to come up with a better option as she took the stairs to the parking garage beneath the building, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized Robin was probably right. Strong alcohol would be pretty welcome in Seth’s life right now.
She stopped by the liquor store on her way to Ivanhoe and bought him a stonking great bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label. The sun-warmed bitumen was so hot she could feel it through the soles of her shoes as she walked to the car, and she could literally see the haze of vaporized eucalyptus oil coming off the leaves of the gum tree next to her car.
Summer in Melbourne. She’d forgotten how damn uncomfortable, sweaty and scorching it could be.
The blithe belief that she was doing a good thing for someone in a tough spot carried her all the way to Seth’s front door. Then doubt kicked in, and her courage—or whatever it was—failed.
She had no idea why she was here. They weren’t buddies. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to prove just how not-buddies they were only a few days ago, doing his best to talk her sister and Jason out of appointing Vivian as co-guardian. He’d proven himself to be a jerk of the highest order, and the fact that tragedy had since come crashing into his life didn’t change that.
Her Kind of Trouble (Harlequin Superromance) Page 9