The girl I had loved carefully because she already had a mother, Amanda.
And now she was sitting in a hospital bed with a newborn in her arms.
I looked at the baby.
Then I looked at David.
“You knew she was here?”
“Mila, let’s get you back to your room.”
“You knew she was here?”
“No.”
“You just had major surgery,” he said. “And you’re standing in a maternity room with your daughter after telling me you were at work.”
Sloan’s eyes moved between us.
“Dad. You didn’t tell her?”
The room went completely quiet.
I turned toward Sloan.
“Tell me what?”
David stepped in before she could answer.
“Mila, this isn’t the place.”
“Then why are you here every day?”
He looked at me.
I could see the fear in his expression.
Sloan looked confused.
I tightened my grip around the walker.
Nurse Adams hadn’t been mistaken.
David really had been coming to the hospital every day.
Just not to see me.
I looked at Sloan.
“How long has he known you were back?”
She hesitated.
“Sloan.”
“Almost a year, Mila.”
My heart sank.
“I moved back just before I found out I was pregnant.”
I stared at her.
“How long has he known you were back?”
“A year?”
David moved closer.
“You’ve done enough. Go back to your room and let me handle this.”
I held up my hand.
Then I looked at Sloan.
“You’ve been talking to him for a year?”
She nodded.
“Since last spring.”
“And he knew you were pregnant?”
“Yes.”
Sloan shifted the newborn higher against her shoulder.
“Since last spring.”
I swallowed.
“Are you okay?”
A sharp pull suddenly burned across my abdomen.
I tightened both hands around the walker.
“I need to sit down.”
David immediately stepped toward me.
“Let me help you.”
I moved backward before he could touch me.
“Don’t.”
“Mila, you’ve just had surgery.”
“I know exactly what I’ve just had.”
My voice shook, partly from anger and partly from the pain.
Sloan quickly pressed the call button beside her bed.
“You shouldn’t have followed him this far,” she said softly.
“I shouldn’t have had to.”
A nurse appeared at the doorway moments later.
I finally allowed her to help me into a wheelchair.
David reached for the handles.
I caught his wrist.
“No. She can take me.”
“Mila.”
“You’ve made enough decisions for me.”
His face tightened.
Before the nurse wheeled me away, I looked at Sloan.
“I want to talk to you.”
Sloan’s eyes filled with tears.
“Okay.”
“Without him.”
David started to speak.
Sloan cut him off.
“I want to talk to you.”
“I’ll come to you.”
Back in my room, the pain medication softened the edges of everything around me.
But it couldn’t touch the ache sitting beneath my ribs.
I didn’t sleep.
I kept thinking about Sloan.
Eight years earlier, David had told me she’d cut both of us out of her life.
I had asked him more than once whether I should call her myself.
Every time, he gave me the same answer.
“She needs space from both of us.”
I had believed him because I was terrified that if I reached out, Sloan would confirm it herself.
That fear had cost me eight years.
Two hours later, David came into my room.
I was sitting upright, one hand resting lightly over my abdomen.
He closed the door behind him.
“We need to talk.”
“I agree.”
Relief flashed across his face.
Then I added:
“After I talk to Sloan.”
His jaw tightened.
“Mila, she just had a baby.”
“And I’ve just had surgery.”
I looked directly at him.
“Somehow, you still found time to lie to both of us.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Mila, this isn’t what you think.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
He sighed.
“You’ve been coming here every day?”
“Sloan was admitted last week. Her doctor wanted her monitored until Spencer arrived.”
“And while I was recovering one wing away, you told me work was keeping you away.”
David lowered his eyes.
“I couldn’t tell you Sloan was here.”
For the first time, he looked genuinely afraid.
“Mila, what happened with Sloan was complicated.”
“Then I’ll let Sloan explain her part.”
“She was 17. She was angry.”
“At who?”
David’s mouth tightened.
That silence told me enough.
I pointed toward the door.
“Go, David.”
He stood there for another moment.
Then he left.
The next afternoon, Sloan came to my room.
This time, she arrived in a wheelchair.
A nurse pushed her in.
When Sloan noticed me looking at the empty space in her arms, she explained:
“My mom has him.”
“Your mom?”
“Yes. She’s keeping him company in my room.”
I nodded.
Of course.
I hadn’t spoken to Amanda since Sloan had left eight years earlier.
The nurse positioned Sloan’s wheelchair beside my bed and stepped outside.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I noticed Sloan rubbing the side of her thumb.
I knew that habit immediately.
“You still do that.”
She looked down.
“Do what?”
“Rub your thumb when you’re nervous.”
I smiled faintly.
“You used to do it before math tests.”
Her mouth trembled.
“You remember that?”
“I remember a lot, honey.”
That nearly broke both of us.
Sloan looked toward the window.
“The baby’s name is Spencer.”
I smiled despite everything.
“Spencer.”
“Yeah.”
“He’s beautiful, Sloan.”
“Thank you, Mila.”
Then the silence returned.
I took a slow breath.
“Your dad told me you didn’t want me contacting you.”
