his nose. It wasn’t his kid.
He dropped his head back with a groan, unable to believe that he would even think such a thing. He didn’t wish the woman ill. And he sure as hell didn’t want her to lose her baby. He knew what it was like to lose a child. The grief, the guilt, the hole it left in your heart, in your life.
“Mr. McGruder?”
He whirled at the sound of his name and found a nurse standing in the doorway. “Yes?”
“Ms. Rocci is asking for you.” She opened the door wider. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the way.”
He hesitated, knowing it was a mistake to see the woman again, to get involved any deeper than he already was. He should leave. Go back home where he belonged. Forget about Adrianna Rocci and her unborn child.
Instead he found himself following the nurse down a long hall.
She glanced over her shoulder. “You’re a bit of a hero around here, you know.”
He frowned, uncomfortable at being tagged as such. “I’m no hero.”
“You are to us. You came to the aid of one of our own.” At his confused looked, she explained. “Addy works here. If you hadn’t happened along when you did, there’s a chance she would’ve lost her baby. Maybe even her life.”
Before he could think of a response, she stopped before one of the curtained-off cubicles, pushed back the drape and held it aside.
When he hesitated, she gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “She’s resting more comfortably now.”
Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside. The room was so small the curtain brushed the backs of his legs when the nurse dropped it into place. The woman— Addy, he remembered the nurse calling her—lay on a gurney parked no more than a foot from where he stood, a sheet draping her from chin to toes. A white identification bracelet circled her left wrist and an IV needle was taped to the back of her hand. He followed the tube to a bottle hooked to a stainless steel pole wheeled close to the bed, then shifted his gaze to her face.
With her eyes closed and her hands folded over her swollen stomach, she looked serene, peaceful. Thinking she was asleep, he eased closer to the bed and was relieved to find that there was more color in her face than there had been when the attendants had loaded her into the ambulance.
She wasn’t beautiful, he thought as he studied her, but she wasn’t homely, either. Her complexion was dark, as was her hair, a testament to her Italian surname, he supposed. Her cheekbones were high ridges, her neck long and graceful.
As he stared, trying to remember the color of her eyes, her lashes fluttered up. Brown, he noted. Her eyes were brown.
She smiled softly and reached for his hand. “I can’t believe you’re really here. I was sure that I had imagined you.”
Her voice was husky, barely more than a whisper, but he heard the wonder in it. “The nurse said you wanted to see me.”
She gave his hand a grateful squeeze. “To thank you.” She closed her eyes, gulped. When she opened them again, a single tear slipped from the corner and slid down her temple to disappear into her hair. “I don’t know what would’ve happened to me and my baby if you hadn’t come along when you did.”
He averted his gaze, unsure what to say. When he glanced back, she was studying him curiously, as if only just now wondering at his identity and why he was at her house.
“Do I know you?”
He hesitated a moment, then figured she’d never make the connection. “John McGruder, though most folks call me Mack.”
“Mack,” she repeated, as if testing the sound of the name, then smiled. “That’s a good, strong name. It suits you.”
Before he could think of a response, her eyes slammed shut and she arched up high off the bed, her fingers digging into the mattress.
Panicking, he glanced around for a call button. “Should I get the nurse?”
She released a long breath, then opened her eyes and forced a reassuring smile. “No. I’m okay. The doctor was able to stop the labor, but he said I should expect a few more pains.”
He blew out a long breath of his own, relieved that it hadn’t lasted any longer than it had. “Does that mean you get to go home?”
“No. In fact, an orderly is on his way right now to take me up to Labor and Delivery.”
“But I thought you said the doctor was able to stop your labor?”
“He was…for the time being. But I have to stay in the hospital. They need to be able to monitor the baby’s vital signs, plus keep me off my feet.”
“How long will you have to stay?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Until the baby’s born. My actual due date isn’t until July 15, but Dr. Wharton says he doubts I’ll make it that long.”
He did the math in his head and shuddered, knowing he’d go nuts if he had to stay in a hospital bed for six weeks. “Is there anyone I can call for you? Family you want notified?”
She shook her head. “The only family I have is my mother, and she lives in Hawaii.”
He pulled a pen from his pocket. “Give me her number, and I’ll give her a call. She’ll probably want to catch the next plane out.”
“You’re sweet to offer, but it isn’t necessary. She wasn’t planning on coming for the baby’s birth. Me going into labor early won’t change her mind.”
He pressed the pen against the paper. “Why don’t you let her decide that?”
She hesitated a moment, then sighed. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to let her know what’s going on. Her name is Mary Claire Sullivan and her number is—”
Mack jotted down the number she rattled off, then slipped the paper and pen back into his pocket. He glanced uncertainly around. “Well, I guess I better get out of here before they run me off. Is there anything I can get for you before I leave?”
She lifted a brow. “About six more weeks of pregnancy?” Smiling, she flapped a hand. “Just kidding. I’ll be fine.”
He shifted uneasily from foot to foot, anxious to go, but reluctant to leave her alone. “You take care of yourself, okay?”
She reached for his hand and gave it another grateful squeeze. “Thanks, Mack. For everything. I owe you one.”
As Mack stepped through the Emergency Room doors, he pulled his cell phone from the holster clipped at his waist and punched in the number Addy had given him, wanting to make the call to her mother before he hit the road.
When a woman answered, he asked, “Is this Mary Claire Sullivan?”
“Who wants to know?”
Mack scowled at the woman’s suspicious tone.
“Mack
