mention nostalgic, he waited until she’d crawled onto the bed and scooted under the covers before approaching. “Up to your chin?” he asked, taking the top edge of the blanket in his fingers.
But Sophie wasn’t paying attention. Her gaze darted around the room, as if she were looking for something. At first, he wasn’t sure what it might be, and he suspected Sophie wouldn’t suddenly speak up and tell him what the problem was, so he looked around, too. And then it dawned on him.
“Your teddy bear?” When she nodded, he felt a knot in his chest ease. “You left it on the sofa. I’ll get it and will be right back.” He barely waited for her nod before he turned for the door and hurried to the living room, where he scooped up the tattered teddy bear and returned to her room.
She hadn’t moved an inch. The big bed seemed to swallow her, and he made another mental note, along with the others, to find a smaller bed for her. When he handed her the teddy bear, he noticed that the relief on her face turned to joy. Apparently something was right. Finally.
After making sure she was comfortable, he brushed his lips lightly on her cheek. He felt her still, and when he moved away, she was watching him closely. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“I’ll be down the hall in my office,” he told her, switching on a small bedside lamp. “If you need anything, just come get me, okay?”
She nodded, her face solemn. Unsure if he should leave her alone, he finally moved toward the door. “Good night, Sophie.”
He hadn’t been in his office for five minutes when he thought he heard crying. Stepping carefully out into the hall, he listened closely. His heart ached at the sound of whimpers and soft sobs coming from her room, but he wasn’t sure what to do. Should he go in and assure her that everything would be all right? It might be a promise he couldn’t keep.
Instead of going in to try to soothe her—something he was certain he would fail at—he returned to his office and put away his things. A few minutes later, he listened at her door. The crying had stopped, and he suspected she might have fallen asleep. Opening the door as quietly as possible, he looked inside.
The soft glow of the lamp lit her small features, and he was again immediately reminded of his sister. Was it wishful thinking? Did he really want to do this? Did he want to be a father?
The thought of raising a small child terrified him. He’d seen what parents could do to their children. He’d chosen long ago not to father a child. And yet it had happened.
He’d have the paternity test done. He needed proof that she was his. Not only for himself, but for the future and whatever it might bring.
But most of all, he wondered if he was going to screw this up. The thought chased everything else from his mind. He searched, but he couldn’t find an answer.
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