that he was being watched, the man turned, his gaze meeting Eleanor’s. “Can I hold her?”
Yes! was all Eleanor could think. Oh, yes! Rochelle needed her father to bond with her, to hold and love her.
Eleanor joined him at the incubator, aware that Ty stayed just a couple of feet back. She gently went over the proper way for Rochelle’s father to hold her, then she prepared the baby to be removed from the isolette.
“If you want to sit in one of the rocking chairs, I’ll bring her to you.”
Looking uncertain, the man nodded, then did as she’d asked.
“Oh, Rochelle, honey,” she told the sweet baby girl. “Today is the day you’ve been waiting for since you were born. Today you met your daddy and now he’s going to hold you and fall hopelessly in love with you.”
“You want me to get a bottle to let him try to feed her?” Ty asked from beside her, helping to straighten a wire as Eleanor repositioned the baby.
She glanced at him, smiled. “That would be perfect. She’s not been taking much by mouth for the past few days, only by her feeding tube, but maybe, just maybe, today is a day for miracles.”
She unhooked what could be unhooked, bundled the babe up and with Ty’s assistance they brought the baby to the waiting father.
“You won’t go far, will you?” he asked, his eyes full of fear when Eleanor lowered the baby into his arms.
“No, Dr. Donaldson and I will be close. No worries,” she assured him, understanding his anxiety as many parents of preemies experienced those same fears. Rochelle’s dad probably more so than most as he’d waited weeks to see his daughter. No doubt the man was terrified that his coming here might somehow jinx his baby girl’s chances. “If anything changes, we will be right here.”
Ty watched the pleased smile spread across Eleanor’s face and wondered at the pleasure spreading through him. Of course he was happy that Rochelle’s father had finally come to visit his baby girl. But the wonder spreading through him had more to do with the woman he watched.
“Look,” Ellie whispered, grabbing his shoulder, her voice breaking with emotion.
Ty’s attention returned to Rochelle and her father. The man held the little girl awkwardly, but his eyes were filled with awe, with love.
With unshed tears.
“He’s talking to her. I wish I could hear what he’s saying,” Ellie continued, her voice low, full of just as much emotion as Rochelle’s father’s.
Ty could almost feel the excitement bubbling through her.
“They’re bonding.”
Ellie glanced at him, smiled beatifically. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Her smile was wonderful.
Her touch on his shoulder.
The light in her eyes.
He’d missed her.
Something in Ty’s chest shifted, blossomed, and he realized that if she’d said no to going to Texas, he’d have talked her into it.
He wanted her with him, wanted to show her his family home, introduce her to his family and, more than anything, he wanted her at his side during the weekend. He’d have begged her to go if that was what it would have taken.
That thought worried him almost as much as the thought of seeing his father again did.
On a plane.
With Tyler Donaldson.
On the way to his family’s ranch in Swallow Creek, Texas.
Not feeling a hundred percent as she was fighting a nervous stomach.
How were they going to get through the next few days?
Those were the thoughts running through Eleanor’s mind while she pretended to be asleep in the first-class airline seat next to Tyler’s.
Pretending to be asleep was easier than trying to make polite conversation as they’d done when their paths had crossed since the day Rochelle’s father had come to the NICU. They’d shared a moment of truce when Rochelle’s father had been present, but otherwise the awkwardness lingered and made her stomach churn even now.
Then again, everything seemed to make her feel nauseated these days. As a child she’d often had stomach issues when she’d got really nervous or upset, but she’d thought she’d outgrown that during her late teens. Recently, that old habit had returned. As if having to deal with her memories wasn’t enough torture.
She snuck a quick peek at the man she couldn’t keep from her mind.
And caught him staring at her.
“Good nap?”
“Um, yes. Thanks for asking.” Heat infused her face at the way he watched her. As if he knew exactly what she’d been doing.
He couldn’t possibly know she’d been faking sleep, could he?
Probably. Somehow Ty seemed to know everything.
The plane hit a bit of turbulence and her stomach lurched. Her face must have paled, because Ty’s expression instantly grew concerned. His hand covered hers where she clutched at the armrest.
“You okay?”
For answer, she unbuckled her seat restraint and hurried to the lavatory, grateful that no one was there or she’d have had to make do with the little bag provided on the back of the seat in front of hers.
Once inside the small lavatory, she prayed the other passengers couldn’t hear her spilling the meager breakfast she’d forced down.
She prayed Ty couldn’t hear.
She delayed in the restroom as long as she dared occupy the only lavatory in first class, but the empathetic gazes that met hers when she left the sanctity of the private space told her everyone had heard.
That Ty had heard.
Great.
Without looking directly at him, she sank into her seat, closed her eyes and said a little prayer that her nerves calmed down. Spending the weekend with Ty was stressful enough. Spending the weekend with him with an upset stomach just went off the charts of bad luck.
“I thought it was me,” he mused, “but now I’m wondering if perhaps you just don’t enjoy flying.”
Her gaze shot toward his. “I’m fine.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, his eyes studying her. “I can see that by the ashen color of your skin and the way you’re holding your stomach.”
Why couldn’t she be suave and sophisticated around this man? Why did she continually embarrass herself?
She dug through her purse, searching
