I was not only angry now, I was furious...and also a little impressed.
“I won’t tell you what the results say,” I spat childishly. How dare she dismiss me? Avoid me?
She sighed in defeat. “I know. It’s okay because contrary to you, I trust you’ll do the best for Timothy. He is your legacy after all.”
I ground my teeth, pursing my lips with barely contained anger. She had to stop calling him Timothy. She had to.
“I won’t forget this,” I barked as I picked up the car seat.
She nodded. “I understand. Many things are hard to forget.” And then she gave me her back, walking into her room and closing the connecting door between us.
I took a step toward it, considering breaking it down and demanding she apologizes for her lack of respect by getting on her knees. Fuck, did I like her on her knees...
I growled before closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, trying to reign in my anger and my twitching cock. This was certainly not the time to get an erection.
I walked down the hall, my hand clenched tightly around the car seat handle. When I met the middle-aged nanny by the door, I hated her on sight.
“Good morning, sir. I’m Anna. The agency s-”
“Let’s go,” I interrupted, extending the car seat to her.
“I- Ummm- Yes, of course.” She took the seat from me.
I walked out to the awaiting car. No, the anger was not fading. I could barely contain it.
Sitting in the car, I looked at my emails as the driver helped the woman fasten the car seat in place.
We’d just started to drive when Timmy started crying.
Timmy. It struck me like a bolt of lightning. For the first time, I'd thought of him as Timmy.
I tried to ignore his cries as I continued to work, but I was starting to get a migraine at the back of my skull. I turned toward the nameless nanny. “The child’s been crying for ten minutes. He never cries. Are you actually qualified?”
“I - Yes, yes, sir,” she stuttered as she tried to distract him.
“Then do something!”
She played with him, but it felt like she was only making it worse.
When we finally reached the hospital, I exited the car and rounded to the other side, extending my arms toward the nanny. “Give me the boy.”
I rested him against my chest, one arm under Timothy’s buttocks and the other holding his neck. “Listen, Timothy, this needs to stop,” I stated with a strong voice.
He leaned back a little, his cries finally stopping, and blinked at me. His eyes were the exact same green as mine.
He brought his chubby hand up to grab at my beard, but it was trimmed too short for him to catch. He gave me a little shriek.
And suddenly, looking at him as he smiled, I felt the bond, the love I didn’t want nor know I could feel. He was my blood, a little piece of Edward. He was my family.
He cooed, grabbing at my chin, and I couldn't help but chuckle. “You like the beard, don’t you, big boy?” I nodded. “Don’t worry, Beaumont men get epic beards. I’ll show you how to take care of it.” I tightened my hold on him and looked up at the nanny. “You’re not needed anymore.”
I turned around and walked into the hospital with the little boy, who was now smiling in my arms.
“Where’s Opal?” Jeremy asked, looking around just as I reached his office.
“You only have me today. Sorry to disappoint.”
At least he didn’t pretend, he looked dejected.
Taking Timothy from my arms, he started to examine him.
“I got all the numbers from Opal. She is very thorough,” he said as soon as he was done listening to Timothy’s heart.
“She is. She loves her son,” I said as the nurse came and took Timothy away for a blood test.
“I’m glad you see that,” Jeremy replied as he stood in the corner, scribbling in his file.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, getting annoyed. “You don’t need to defend your little girlfriend. You’re the doctor in this situation, not the friend. I don't need your opinion.” I shook my head, getting out the note she’d put in the bag.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said on a breath that sounded a lot like regret as he rested the file on his desk. “She is not willing to go on a date with me.”
I felt a strange relief at that comment as jealousy had started to rear its ugly head since I'd told her to do it. I hated that relief; it meant things I didn't want.
“Anyway, she gave me a list of information for you.” I opened the paper and frowned. This was not the handwriting I'd expected...at all.
“What? Is there something wrong?” Jeremy asked, standing behind me to read. “No, these numbers are not horrible.” He leaned closer. “What is that word?”
“Quickly,” I said in a daze. The Q and Y were not the same as the note she'd written to Edward. Actually, nothing in her handwriting reminded me of her note. Was it possible that she hadn't written it?
I shook my head. Would that change anything? She was still the prostitute who had dragged Edward back into the pit of drugs after he’d been clean for six months! He’d never gone that long before. I'd started to hope again, began thinking that I could get my little brother back, only to lose him to drugs again. That loss had taken away the little bit of humanity I'd had left.
“Dean?”
I turned toward Jeremy, who was now sitting at his desk in front of his computer.
“What did you say?”
“I said that I think we still need to move the surgery forward. I thought we could wait until after he turned one, but the numbers, despite being okay, are still decreasing more rapidly than I'd like given the new medication. I think he should have the surgery in eight weeks.”
I nodded, brushing my thumb over the note again. In two months, Opal's time at my house would be almost over...unless she left sooner. For once, that thought didn’t fill me with glee, but rather with an apprehension that felt too close to fear.
“Sure, eight weeks is fine.”
He turned toward his computer. “I’ll give Opal a call and explain the next steps.”
I glared at him. “No. Thank you for your offer, but I am pretty sure I can explain it to her myself. She can always call you. I’m sure she has your number,” I added, hating the bite of jealousy in my tone.
“She does," he confirmed. "She has all my numbers.”
I got the message, Dr. Hunt; you want Opal Collins. I sighed. “Is there anything else we need to do today?”
Jeremy shook his head. "No. Anita should be back with Timothy in the next few minutes. She’s doing another ultrasound to make sure the heart valves haven't been damaged any further."
Once I had Timothy back, I held him closer than I'd used to. I felt the bond now, the love for this sick little boy, and it was terrifying. I'd thought I was fixed in my ways, that nothing could affect me any longer. Lord, had I been wrong.
I strapped Timothy into the car. “You’ve been brave, my boy. The nurse said you didn’t even cry.” I instinctively kissed his forehead, surprising myself by the tender gesture. That was not something I was accustomed to giving or receiving. “Take the long way home,” I told the driver as I settled in beside my nephew.