"So, how long have you known our favorite daddy?"
"Oh," I smiled up at her. "Not long. My cousin Mason works with him at the Forbidden Nightclub."
The nurse nodded. "Well, he's a one of a kind, that's for sure. I think every single nurse fell in love with him when he was here for that Tristy gal. He was amazing with her baby. Patient, good-natured. A real natural."
I smiled softly, faltering when I realized she'd said 'her' baby, not 'his' baby. Strange. "I bet he was. I haven't met Julian yet. Just seen a picture Pick showed me."
The nurse clucked her tongue. "He was so proud of that kid. Damn shame it wasn't his."
I blinked. "Wait, what? What do you mean not his?" Oh my God. There was no other meaning for such a phrase. But that would have to mean . . . "Holy shit. Does Pick know?"
With a snort and roll of her eyes, the nurse checked the level of water in my pitcher. "Honey, that baby came out blacker than I am. Ain't no way that baby can be his. And everybody knew it."
I drew in a sharp breath. "Oh . . . wow. I . . . I just assumed the mom was . . . I can't believe his wife cheated on him."
"Wife?" the nurse squawked, pausing as she plunked the pitcher down. "No, don't you dare tell me he went on to marry that girl." She shook her head sadly. "Worst patient I ever had. I tell you what," she leaned in closer and lowered her voice. "You didn't hear this from me, but no one liked her. Mm-hmm. She was a bitch with a capital B. And I don't even curse." To prove herself right, she lifted her gaze to the ceiling, and murmured, "Forgive me, Father," as she pulled a crucifix from her under her blouse and kissed it.
My mouth fell open. My biggest worry had been that his wife would be sweet, gorgeous, and awesome. But learning she wasn't as grand as I'd feared was almost worse. I didn't want to learn he was strapped to a bitch who'd fucking cheated on him.
My poor, poor Patrick. I wanted to scratch her eyes out.
"Did he know the baby wasn't his before it was born?" I asked, my voice just as low as the nurse's.
She straightened, slapping playfully at my hand. "Well, of course. He and that girl never had that kind of relationship, if you know what I mean. They were more like brother and sister. I think he said they'd been in the same foster home once." She rolled her eyes. "He's been looking out for her for years. And if they got married, it's only because of her baby."
My chest suddenly felt tight and I wanted to cry. A guy like Pick—who'd beaten up Alec because he'd tried to kill my baby, who'd taken on the care of an infant he knew wasn't his, who'd held me in his arms to comfort me—deserved a true love match, a wife who adored him.
My crush on him grew even stronger. If only I'd known him the night I'd met Alec "the Bastard" Worthington. But even if I had, I probably still would've gone after Alec, because I'd been stupid and prejudiced. All I would've seen in Pick were his bad-boy tattoos and non-branded clothes. I would've labeled him a sleazy loser. But Alec was the true loser, and Pick was the sweetest, most honorable man I'd ever met.
Chapter 15
EVA
As soon as she could breathe, eat, and stay warm on her own, Skylar was discharged from the hospital. She was twenty days old when I was finally able to take her home.
I'd only had to stay for a week myself. After my kidneys decided to function on their own again, they'd kicked me out two days later. It was the hardest thing in the world to leave the hospital without my baby, my little girl who'd been with me for the past seven and half months. So, usually I just stuck around there all day, annoying the nurses with every question under the sun. I think they were patient with me only because they knew I was Pick's friend.
For Skylar's situation, her doctor didn't foresee any long-term problems. He warned me she'd probably have some delays in developments, maybe a little trouble in school. But physically, she was fine.
That first night with her home was rough, and not because Skylar was fussy. In fact, she was a dream come true compared to some of the new-baby horror stories I'd read. I actually had to wake her a few times for her scheduled feedings. What made it rough was that I couldn't stop worrying. I popped out of bed to check on her every time she moved or breathed a little too loudly.
Before the night was over, I shifted her crib until it was squished against my bed, so she was no longer all the way across the room from me. I could only fall asleep when I slid my hand through the crib's slats and rested my fingers on her. If I hadn't feared I might roll over and accidentally suffocate her, I would've kept her in bed with me.