“We’ll talk later,” I promise him, and hang up before he can argue with me.
I rub my belly. “Daddy and I will work it out. It’ll be fine. It has to be.”
There’s no doubt in my mind that Griff and I have an abundance of love for each other, but I also know that sometimes love isn’t enough to right everything that goes wrong between two people.
Chapter Four
Griffin - Past
“God damnit!”I shout and throw my phone. I immediately regret it, because I didn’t get the insurance. With a baby on the way, I don’t need to be blowing money because I’m a dumbass.
Hattie peeks her head into the waiting room where they deposited me while the social worker meets with the doctor. “I’m guessing that Wren didn’t take the news well, did she?”
I cross the room to get my phone. At least one thing is working in my favor. My phone landed on one of the padded chairs, and it isn’t broken.
“Everything is fucked,” I answer Hattie. “I keep wondering when something is going to happen that pushes her over the line. I know I’m really fucking lucky that she gave me another chance after I pushed her away. Every day I get with her is a bonus, but I’ve always known that someday it would be too muchhaving Liam around. I don’t know how to balance having both of them in my life.”
She nods. “Yeah, that sucks.”
I stare at her, waiting for advice or reassurance, but she only stares back at me. “That’s it? I’m telling you I think my wife might leave me over this, and your only comment is, ‘That sucks’?”
Hattie shrugs her shoulders. “It does suck, but you’re an idiot if you think something like dealing with Liam is going to run Wren off, and you don’t know her very well. Have some faith in your wife.”
Those words keep banging around in my head after she leaves. I have what feels like endless minutes to reflect on having faith in Wren. It doesn’t take me long to see that it’s me I don’t have faith in. She deserves the world, and I’m not sure I’m capable of giving it to her. I’ll damn sure try, but I’m terrified I’m always going to come up short.
I shove those thoughts aside, but the only thing in this room to concentrate on is the relentless tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall. Staring at that long, thin, red hand seems to make it move slower. I break up the monotony by staring at my phone, willing Wren to reach out.
“Mr. Hale?” a young nurse asks from the doorway.
She’s carrying a metal clipboard, but I think she’s using it as more of a shield than for information. I know I can be a bit, uhm, let’s say intimidating, but I didn’t realize that I terrified people I haven’t even spoken to.
It occurs to me that I’m scowling from all the shit that’s gone down today, and probably not presenting the most welcoming demeanor. I try to soften my expressions, but for me, that means I try to stop glaring at everything like I want to commit violence.
“Th—the doctor is ready. Let me show you back to exam four,” she stammers.
“I don’t bite you know,” I tell her.
“Yes, he does,” I hear a familiar voice rasp behind me.
I close my eyes for a second, and a feeling of warmth spreads from my chest to the rest of my body. This must be what peace feels like.
“Baby Bird,” I say, and turn around.
There’s an apologetic look on her face, but my girl has nothing to be sorry for. I hold my arm out, and she takes my hand without hesitation.
We follow the nurse down a long hallway. It’s cold and sterile, but at least this hospital is more modern than the sad excuse for an emergency room in Harriston. There, the walls are still a mustard yellow that most hospitals have changed in favor of more soothing colors. The fluorescent lights always seem to be on their way out. They flicker just enough to be annoying, but apparently not enough for the people who run the hospital to bother changing.
An older gentleman in a white lab coat is in the room we’re shown into. Natalie is still small enough that they have her in one of those clear bassinets they use in the nursery.
His eyes fall on Wren’s very pregnant belly, then back at Natalie. I can tell he’s trying to do what he thought was going to be a simple math problem and found a complex equation instead. Still looking confused, he picks up the chart and flips through some pages.
“Natalie is your—” he trails off, leaving me to fill in the information he is missing.
“Granddaughter. And yes, since I can tell you are wondering, this is my wife, and our baby is due in a couple of months. So, if I’ve satisfied all of your curiosity, can you let me know how Natalie is doing?”
Before he answers, the social worker from earlier enters the room. In her hand is a thick packet of paperwork. She doesn’t say anything, so the doctor finally begins.
“Natalie is doing very well. She was a little dehydrated, and her skin was irritated from sitting in a dirty diaper for a few hours, but she will be better by tomorrow. Physically, at least. Babies can be fussy after being abandoned like she has been. I’m signing off on her release. Ms. Palmer here will guide you through the legal things to take her home.”
