“What did she say to that?” she asks.
“Nothing, what can she say? He’s mine. She seemed fine with it. Almost . . . relieved.”
“Good. Now eat up so I can go love on my nephew again before I have to get home. I can’t get to him without you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say and do as I’m told.
After I practically inhale my food, we head back up to the nursery. The nurse from earlier, along with another and what looks like Melissa’s doctor, is standing outside the waiting room door. When one of the nurses sees us coming, her face pales.
Something’s wrong.
My heart begins to beat furiously against my chest. I quicken my stride and stop beside them. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is he okay?” I barely register a hand on each of my shoulders; at this point, I’m not sure if they’re for support or to hold me back. I look through the nursery window and I don’t see him. “Where is my son? Somebody better start talking now,” I demand.
“Mr. Beckett, let’s step inside.” The doctor points to the waiting room.
“Tell me now! Where is my son?”
“Ridge.” Reagan grabs my arm. “Let’s go in and sit down. I’m sure as soon as we do, this fine doctor here will tell us what’s going on.”
The doctor nods his agreement.
Once we’re in the waiting room, a nurse wheels my son out to us. I don’t hesitate this time, lifting him into my arms and holding him close. “Talk. Is he okay? What the hell is going on?”
“Mr. Beckett, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Melissa . . . well, she’s gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean gone? I was just with her not twenty minutes ago. She’s sleeping.”
“No, I mean she’s passed. We tried everything we could,” he tells me.
“Wait, what?”
“Ridge, you need to sit.” Tyler lays a heavy hand on my shoulder and pushes me into a chair.
“Explain.”
“We think it was a brain aneurysm. When there’s trauma to the head, you sometimes don’t know until it’s too late. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“My loss? What about my son? That’s his mother.”
Reagan tries to take him from me, but I hold tighter. “Ridge, let me hold him, please. You’re upset, and he can sense that. I’ll be right here, I promise.”
“Let her take him,” Tyler encourages me.
Reluctantly, I hand over my son. “How is this happening? I was just with her. If I would’ve stayed, she would still be here.”
“No, Mr. Beckett, that’s not true. With an aneurysm, it’s fast. Those in the brain are more often than not fatal. There’s nothing anyone could have done.”
I slump forward, my face in my hands. She’s gone. My son will never know his mother. He won’t get to see the love in her eyes that she had for him. He will never get to see that he is all she ever wanted. He will never get to experience the childhood that I did, with both parents loving and supporting him.
How am I going to do this without her?
What do I know about raising a baby? I was hoping she would guide me. She was awake, and we were going to work it all out. We were going to figure this out. Now she’s gone.
“Mr. Beckett, I’m so sorry for your loss,” the doctor says again before leaving the room.
I feel a strong hand on my shoulder, Tyler giving his silent support. How did things go from bad to good to terrible in a matter of minutes?
“Ridge,” Reagan says hesitantly.
I keep my head buried in my hands until I hear his cry.
My son.
Looking up, I see Reagan trying to soothe him.
“He’s crying, and I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t know how to take care of him. She was supposed to wake up and guide me through this. How am I going to take care of a baby? I don’t know what to do.”
Reagan bounces him in her arms. “You are going to be the best damn father that any kid has ever had. You are not alone in this, Ridge. You have me, Mom and Dad, the guys. You are not alone. He needs you. You are his father.”
“What if I can’t do it?” Fuck, I know I sound like a whiny ass right now, but my fear trumps the fucks I don’t have to give at this point. “What happens when I screw it all up?”
“Are you giving up, Beckett?” Tyler asks. “That’s not you, man. He’s your flesh and blood. He’s a part of you. You man the fuck up and be what he needs. Learn along the way. You think you’re the first person to do this on their own?”
“You’re going to make mistakes, Ridge. That’s life. But you will learn from them and move forward. It’s going to be hard, but you have a huge support system and we’re ready to rally around you and this little guy.”
A nurse steps into the room. “It’s time for him to eat.”
I nod, stand and take him from Reagan before settling back into the chair. The nurse hands me his bottle, and I place it next to his lips. He latches on immediately, gulping it down. No one says a word as we all watch him eat. I see that he’s eaten about an ounce, so I pull the bottle from his lips and place him on my shoulder to burp him. He does so quickly, and I repeat the steps.
“You’re good with him,” Reagan comments.
“They taught me earlier today.”
“And look at you now, you’re an old pro. It’s all going to be a learning curve, Ridge, but you’ve got this.”
I look down at my son who is sucking on his bottle, eyes drifting closed. He has no idea what’s going on. That his mother just passed away. I feel an ache deep in my chest, for both of them. I send up a silent prayer that I can be everything he needs. That somehow, I can give him the love of both parents.
“It’s just you and me, little man,” I whisper in his ear.
“I’m going to go call the guys and your parents.” Tyler steps out of the room.
“How’s he doing?” the nurse asks.
“Good, he finished the entire thing. You need to write that down or something, right?” I ask.
“I do. You did well, Dad.” She makes a note on the tablet in her hands. “Mr. Beckett, I know this is not the appropriate time for this conversation, but I have some paperwork here for you. The little guy is being released tomorrow, and we still need a name.”
What? He’s being released? “He can’t. I thought you said he could stay until we get the results. Who do I have to talk to? I refuse to let my son go into the system.”
“Mr. Beckett, the results are in. You are a 99.99% match. He’s your son.”
My heart stills in my chest.
“Breathe, Ridge.” Reagan giggles next to me.
I take in a breath. He’s mine. I knew he was—in my heart, in my gut. But now I have confirmation. Now I know he’s coming home with me and not going into the foster care system. Melissa would hate that.
“I know this is a rough time for you, but we can’t release him until he has a name for the birth certificate.”
“Beckett,” I say automatically.
Reagan giggles again. “She’s got that part, goof. He needs a first name, a middle name. I know you said Melissa didn’t have a name in mind. Do you?” she asks gently.