“How can I help you?”
“I’m hoping you can come to my office so we can talk in person.”
“That’s not possible. I moved to Maine.”
“I see that here in my notes. Brigs Ferry Bay. Is that correct?”
“Yeah. Listen, if you need tax forms or something, I can give you the name of my lawyer. He can help you.”
“Mr. Miller, you have a daughter,” she blurts out.
My vision tunnels and I feel light-headed. It’s not possible. If I had a daughter, I’d know. Maisy is the only one I’ve had sex with and she’s infertile. Not to mention, it’s been quite some time since we had sex. I slump down onto the floor.
“You have the wrong person. Maisy and I haven’t been together in a year.”
“There’s one more thing I need to tell you.”
“What?”
“Maisy has passed. Unfortunately, she died in childbirth,” she says easily, as though she didn’t completely turn my world upside down.
“She’s dead?” I ask, disbelieving. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. I divorced her because I loved her. I wanted her to experience a full life, and now she’s gone.
“Yes. She suffered an amniotic fluid embolism during childbirth. It was sudden.”
“No. It can’t be.” I picture the happy and healthy ball of energy I left behind. I can’t reconcile that image with one of a deceased woman.
“I’m sorry for your loss. But you can see why it’s important for you to return to New York. Mr. Miller, you have a daughter who doesn’t have her mother. She needs you.”
“Okay. It’ll take some time. I need to book a flight and a hotel.” I remove my glasses, set them next to me, and pinch the bridge of my nose. A headache is fast approaching and thinking is becoming a challenge. “A daughter? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Maisy was prepared. She has an ironclad will and your name listed on the birth certificate.” Then she adds in a snippy tone, “Much to her parents dismay.”
“Her parents?”
“Lane was placed in their custody until you could be reached. I get the impression they’d like to keep it that way.”
“Lane?”
“Your daughter, Mr. Miller. Her name is Lane.”
“She always said if we had a daughter, she would want to name her Lane after me,” I say.
“Looks like she got her wish. Can I expect you tomorrow?” Claire’s growing impatient with me. I don’t blame her. I’m not handling this well.
“Yes. I’ll make arrangements now.”
“Sounds good,” she says. “Oh, and Mr. Miller?”
“Yeah?”
“Be prepared for a fight. It seems your ex-wife’s parents have more money than sense, and very large mouths. I don’t think they’ll be giving up the baby easily.”
The line goes dead and I set it on the ground next to me. I have a daughter. Maisy’s dead. I’m devastated at the loss of someone who was once the most important person in my life, while also curious about the baby we created.
I’m a father. I’m the least qualified person in the world for such a job. Maybe Maisy’s parents are the better choice. I quickly dismiss that idea. Maisy loved her parents, but didn’t have many good things to say about her childhood. She was ridiculed often for being quirky and not the silent princess they had wanted. The thought of my daughter experiencing the same, drives nails down my spine.
Sitting here on the ground isn’t going to help anything. I pick myself up and go to my office. I flip on my computer and start making preparations.
I need to get back to New York.
Chapter Two
Boaz
It’s been a full week of chaos. Lance has gone missing and, in his place, Dr. Old Balls is back. Not his real name, obviously, but true all the same. Beacon Island Hospital was better off the day he retired with his ancient view on medicine and his sleepy vibe. Hand to God, I caught him dozing off while I was updating him on the status of a patient today.
The best thing to happen to Brigs Ferry Bay was the day we got a new doctor. He stepped right in, modernized the hospital, and in turn, made my life so much easier. Definitely doesn’t hurt he’s easy on the eyes. He has this hair that’s longer on top and shorter on the sides. He tries to keep it tame with products, but after a few hours, he’s run his hands through it so many times it spikes up all over the damn place. He keeps his facial hair to a sanitary stubble, same as me. And the man is fit. His scrubs pull taught across his biceps and thighs.
I’d kill to feel all those hard muscles pressed against me.
I’m not sure he’s queer. I send hints, both subtle and otherwise. Most of the time he gets flustered and shies away. But then there are the times he watches me a minute too long, or goes out of his way to continue our conversation and keep me in his company. He’s either friendly, oblivious, or straight. I’m leaning toward oblivious.
Sometimes I hype myself up to make a move. Or at least be a little more overt with my flirtations, but I chicken out every time. It’s a small town and an even smaller hospital. If things go badly, it’ll make for an awkward work environment.
Either way, he needs to get his ass back to work. Dr. Old Balls tried to send a little girl home today when she clearly had appendicitis. Good thing I caught her before she left and called in our surgeon.
That’s why, after a particularly grueling day, I find myself walking to the ritzy part of town to knock on the good doctor’s door and find out why the hell he thinks it’s okay to abandon us. There’s one good thing about living in this tiny ass town, no privacy. It only took asking a few colleagues to find out where he lives. It’s a hot summer day and I’m sweating my balls off by the time I reach his place.
The Wolffish Luxury Condos are nicer than anywhere I’ve lived. I grew up on the old side of town, where the houses aren’t shit, but they aren’t like this. The house I live in with Dad and Elijah hasn’t been updated since the nineties, but the bones are good. The appliances work, and I force Elijah to keep the grass cut and bushes trimmed. Much to that little jerk’s dismay.
I walk into the lobby and see an elevator to my left. A fucking elevator. I guess rich folks can’t be bothered to take stairs. I ride up to the top floor and knock on the first door I come to. I didn’t get his apartment number, but there’s only two on this level, so if I’m wrong, I’ll just move down the hall.
I knock and wait. No answer. I knock again and am met with the howling cry of a baby. I know I’ve got the wrong place now. I start down the hallway, hoping to be gone by the time the mom answers and cusses me out for waking her newborn. I remember those days with Elijah. I woulda knocked someone’s head off their shoulders if they’d woken him up.
“Boaz?” I hear someone call my name.
I flip around and see Lance standing outside the door I just knocked on. He’s in a pair of athletic shorts and is shirtless. It’s the most skin I’ve seen on him and my mouth goes dry. But it’s the baby in his arms that throws me hardcore. I walk back over, taking in how frantic and stressed he looks.