wasn’t it going to be fun hanging out with the guy who made breaking hearts an Olympic event?
Sitting in the sporty BMW he’d nicknamed Princess, Cal saw Emily’s practical little compact come around the corner and pull into the apartment building parking area. He was across the street in front of a vacant lot and got out of his car, looking both ways to make sure there was no traffic. Ending up in his own E.R. because of stupidity would be the ultimate in humiliation, and his partners in the emergency trauma practice would show no mercy, even though he had a good excuse for being preoccupied.
As he walked toward Emily, he watched her open the rear passenger door, unbuckle Annie and lift her out. Then she went to the trunk and popped it, pulling out a plastic grocery bag. The closer he got, the more bags he could see. It never occurred to him that two girls could eat so much.
“Hi,” he said.
She whirled around, clutching the child to her chest. “Good Lord, you startled me.”
“I thought you saw me.” He cocked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m parked across the street.”
“Why?” Her dark eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Are you stalking me?”
He slid his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Do you always go immediately to the bad place?”
“Normally, no,” she said, without conviction. “But what we have here isn’t a normal situation.”
“What we have here probably happens more than you think,” he said.
“Not in my world.” She loosened her hold on Annie who was sucking on her index and middle fingers, staring at him with distrust in every cherubic curve of her face.
“Does your world still include hospital social work?”
“Yes. In addition to running Helping Hands, I freelance at most of the valley’s hospitals. Not having to keep a nine-to-five schedule makes it easier to spend more time with Annie.”
Occasionally a patient in the E.R. needed social services to facilitate health-care programs, hospice care or off-site treatment options. He’d met her after seeing a child with leukemia and no insurance. Em was called in to counsel the parents on available treatment and financial plans to help pay for as much as possible. He’d been anxious to turn that case over to someone else when Emily Summers had walked into the room.
One look at that face—specifically that mouth—and he’d wanted to turn himself over to her. And he had, until she’d walked out on him for no apparent reason. The fact that they were going to be parents had never entered his mind.
“So were you working today?” he casually asked. “And where does Annie stay when you can’t be with her?”
“How long have you been here?”
“Not long this time.”
“This time?” she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“I stopped by earlier and talked to Lucy’s roommate, Patty. She was just on her way out to a class and told me when you’d be home.”
“Hmm.” With a couple of grocery bags on one arm and Annie in the other, Em shifted the baby’s weight.
Cal was pleased that she looked like a healthy kid. Yesterday after seeing her he realized there were a million questions he should have asked. How was the birth? Any complications? Who’s her pediatrician? He could get her in with the best one in the valley.
But none of those things had come out of his mouth because he’d been too stunned that Emily told him the truth. This time he’d brought a swab and planned to get a sample for the DNA test. Skepticism had been his new best friend since the woman he’d married had lied about being pregnant so they could be together. Translation—to trap him. His first mistake was not leaving when her lie was exposed because the longer they were together, the bigger the lies got.
Last night he’d pulled out old photo albums and pored over family pictures, studying the ones of himself at Annie’s age. She looked just like him. There was little doubt in his mind that she was his daughter, but because of his past, proof was required.
As he watched Emily struggle with grocery bags and the baby, it finally sank in that she could use some help. His parents hadn’t raised their boys to do nothing while a woman struggled.
“Let me help you,” he said, taking the bags.
“Take Annie.” She thrust the little girl into his arms. “I’ll grab a couple bags and unlock the door.”
Instantly the child started to cry and hold out her chubby arms to her mother. Em was already hurrying to her front door, key in hand.
“Annie’s crying,” he called after her. “Do something.”
“It’s good for her lungs,” she called over her shoulder. “You’re a doctor. You should know that.”
He did know that, when the child in question wasn’t his and crying actual tears. “Okay, kid. Let’s do this.”
He grabbed as many bags as he could carry and not compromise his hold on the little girl in his arms. Fortunately Em’s apartment was right around the corner from the parking lot and he followed her into the open front door. It was cool inside, a welcome relief from the July heat. The kitchen was just off the living room where Emily was half buried in the refrigerator hurriedly putting away cold and frozen food.
“What should I do with her?” he shouted over the pitiful cries that hurt his ears and his heart simultaneously.
She looked at him. “Put her on the floor.”
Didn’t have to tell him twice. He set Annie down on her tush where she continued to sob as if he’d been sticking pins into her.
“I’ll get the rest of the bags,” he said, and went to do that without waiting for permission. He was an E.R. doc and used to taking the initiative.
When he’d grabbed the remaining groceries from the trunk and shut it, he hurried back to the apartment, just as Annie was crawling out the front door. He stepped over her and dropped the bags in the middle of the living room, then raced out the door to scoop her up. The loud wail was irrefutable evidence of her displeasure. As if he needed more proof that she hated his guts.
Squirming and squealing, she continued her protest as he carried her to Em. “You’ve got a runner.”
Em glanced over her shoulder. “Good. You got her. She tries to escape if you don’t shut the door.”
He put Annie on the floor and did a slow burn while Emily finished putting away the groceries. Then she grabbed up the little girl and disappeared down the hall. Cal had no choice but to follow.
He watched Em competently change the wriggling child’s diaper, something he should have known to do, but didn’t because he’d been left out of that particular loop. With the freshly diapered child in her arms, she went back into the kitchen and got a child’s cup with a lid, filled it with water and just a splash of apple juice. He was pretty sure it was called a sippy cup because he’d heard kids in the
