The nurse raises both brows but chuckles and waves her off. “Well, it’s good to meet you, then.” She reaches for Aurora, gently lifting her from my arms. “I assume we’ll be seeing you around a bit more while we’ve got this sweet girl here?”
I pale.
“Wait—sorry, does—do I have to go?” The words fall out before I can stop them.
The nurse’s smile dips into something sad. “Unfortunately, it’s not just the poo that’s got your girl all riled up. She’s due for pain meds. She’ll be fussy till they kick in, but after that, she’ll sleep for a good while. Probably out until morning.”
I nod, throat thick, eyes fixed on Aurora’s little face as the nurse soothes her. Her cheeks are still damp, her mouth puckering like she’s about to cry again.
“When can I—” I start, but she cuts in before I can finish.
“Visiting hours start at eight tomorrow morning, end at five. But since you’re the guardian—”
“Intended guardian,” Georgia says crisply.
I shoot her a glare sharp enough to cut glass. She doesn’t flinch, just lifts one of those sleek brows and shrugs.
“I have to say it, Mr. Archer,” she murmurs, full of bureaucratic bite. “Until things are legal, they need to know the situation.”
“But she needs visitors,” the nurse says smoothly, saving me from snapping back. “All the love and cuddles she can get.”
Stepping forward one last time, I brush my finger along Aurora’s red, tear-streaked cheek. My heart’s damn near lodged in my throat.
Why does this hurt?
I just met her.
I shouldn’t feel anything yet. I shouldn’t care.
But the idea of leaving makes the room spin.
“Feel better,” I whisper, my voice too thick to clear. I meet her big, watery eyes and force a smile. “You sleep good, okay?”
She blinks once. Twice. A soft coo hums from her lips as she grabs for my beard like she’s saying goodbye, and my ribs cave in on themselves.
“I’ll be back tomorrow. I promise.”
I don’t even know where I get off making promises like that. But there it is.
The nurse untangles Aurora's fingers from my beard, so I step back and finally tear my gaze away before I do something stupid like steal a baby that’s not mine.
When I look at Georgia, her expression’s unreadable. She jerks her chin toward the door. We don’t speak. Not until we’re out in the parking lot where the sun’s sinking low and painting the sky a lazy orange. The air’s cooler now, wind curling around the edge of my collar.
I follow her blindly, my mind’s still a thousand miles away, stuck in that hospital room. Thank God Georgia doesn’t walk me into oncoming traffic, because I wouldn’t have stopped her.
When she stops, I drag a hand through my hair. “What now?”
She flips through her file and I catch sight of the paperwork I filled out at the courthouse the other day.
“I have your number and email address. I’ll send you the requirements the judge specified so you have a checklist to work through. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be your point of contact, but you’re welcome to reach out if you need anything.” The folder snaps shut. “You have less than a month, so please don’t waste it.”
“Christ,” I mutter, irritation burning through me. “Despite the state I was in when you met me, I’m not completely fucking useless.”
This whole thing’s been one gut punch after another with no time to breathe. I feel raw. Exposed. Like my life’s been ripped open and set under a microscope, and she’s been the one reminding me it’s not good enough.
“I never said you were,” she whispers, throat bobbing.
My stomach twists as I glare down at her, holding onto the anger instead of the clawing ache in my gut to break down. “You didn’t have to say it. You’ve made it damn clear from the beginning.”
