She opens the door slowly, and the first thing I see is a crib. The blinds are drawn in the room, but the ceiling is glowing with hundreds of stars and constellations. There’s a person in the rocking chair at the far end of the room, holding a baby close to her chest. I only see her silhouette, outlined by long, flowing curls.
Peggy approaches her and whispers something inaudible in her ear. She nods and stands up slowly. Peggy takes her seat and they expertly transfer the baby from her arms to Peggy’s.
She walks toward me, and her wide, blue eyes are the first thing I see. They pierce into my own and I feel a rush through my body. I don’t move as she approaches me, and she suddenly looks confused. Her lips move, but I can’t hear what she’s saying.
“What?” I ask, too loudly, and I’m immediately shushed by Peggy.
“Hallway,” she says and walks past me.
I follow her and stop outside the door. She brushes against me as she reaches to pull the door closed. Her shirt shifts and I see cleavage. My pants stir and my fight-or-flight response takes over. She’s stunning. Tall. Athletic. Fucking hot. She can’t be the baby nurse.
She can’t be the fucking baby nurse.
“Hi,” she says in barely a whisper. “I’m Sam.”
She extends her right hand and I grab hold of it. Her cool, soft hand closes slowly around mine and she pumps up and down.
“Hi, Sam. I’m Garrett.” I’m lost in her eyes and I can’t stop shaking her hand. She blinks hard as if trying to snap me out of my temporary paralysis, and she snatches her hand away from mine.
“Let’s go someplace where we can talk,” she says as she brushes past me again. Her vanilla scent leads me. The only thing I want to do right now is pull her into my bedroom down the hall. Completely inappropriate response.
She walks past my room and down the front staircase. I suddenly forget about Peggy and the baby, and I pick up speed, bounding down the stairs two at a time.
She disappears into the library where I join her. She closes the door behind me and sits on the large leather sectional.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions for me. Now is your chance before things get really—hectic,” she says and crosses her legs. I notice she’s wearing tight yoga pants that are rolled at her hips. She has tiger-striped ankle socks on and a loose fitting V-neck tee-shirt. Her brown hair is long, past her shoulders and curly. Very curly.
“What?” I ask.
A look of disgust snaps me out of the fantasy I’m about to let play out in my mind.
“Questions. Now’s the time to ask because he won’t be asleep much longer.”
“I don’t think I have any,” I say and smile.
“Okay, so I guess I’ll start.”
She shifts on the couch, moving her legs so she’s sitting cross-legged.
“I’m Samantha Weston, Peggy’s niece. I’m a neonatal intensive care nurse, and I’ve seen all kinds of sick babies in my career. I’ve only been a practicing nurse for about two and a half years, but I’ve gained a ton of experience in that time. Your son, Kai, has Neonatal Abstinence Syndrome. As you know, he was exposed to a variety of illegal drugs and narcotic substances. The withdrawal from these drugs is causing him great distress.” She looks into my eyes and nods.
I nod back, letting her know that I’m listening. Reality is setting in as this gorgeous woman tells me all about my very sick son. I hear all of the words she’s saying very crisply, but her lips seem to move in slow motion. A weight begins to pull in my chest, and I lean back in the wing chair that I’m currently sitting in.
“Stop,” I say, and she looks confused. “I don’t think I can hear any more of this.”
“Mr. Armstrong, you have to hear it. Because you’re about to live it.”