Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
I nod. “Can I take her temperature?”
Olivia nods and steps aside, making room for me. Meanwhile, I grab the thermometer from my white coat pocket and stride toward the baby.
As I take her temperature, I look at the baby and suddenly, my heart drops. Dorothy coos at me, waggling her arms and legs, and there’s just something so familiar. Her black hair. Her blue eyes. The dimple in her right cheek, just like mine.
This is my child.
My entire body jerks and the blood rushes from my body. My heart pounds, and a sweat breaks out on my brow. Furiously, my brain begins to count. One month, two month, three months … yes, this is my daughter.
I stare at Dorothy again while the thermometer beeps. She smiles and babbles at me once more, only deepening the resemblance. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
Slowly, I turn to Olivia.
“She’s mine, isn’t she?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as my knees weaken. I reach to stabilize myself on the exam bed, afraid I’m going to collapse.
Olivia remains silent, her eyes refusing to meet mine. Suddenly, irrational rage fills me.
“Answer me,” I demand. “Is Dorothy my child?”
The beautiful girl swallows thickly, her brown eyes filling with tears. Without saying a word, she nods her head.
“Yes, Randall. Dorothy is your daughter. Dottie, meet your daddy.”
I nearly faint right there again. It’s true! But then, my eyes flicker to the little girl, her pretty blue eyes looking at me with such intensity and confusion. Her lips stretch into a tiny smile, one that looks so much like her mother’s that I nearly burst into tears at the sight of it. I smile, and my heart swells with unexpected love.
My daughter.
“I need to talk to you,” I say to Olivia. I see fear in her gaze and rush to say, “It’s nothing scary. She’s fine. She’s completely healthy and a totally normal baby. But this is my daughter, and I need to be a part of her life. Please.”
Olivia’s eyes fill with confusion.
“Randall,” she says, “you didn’t call me after our one night together. Why? Why did you leave me in the cold? I thought we shared something special.”
“I can explain,” I say, “but this isn’t the place. I want to talk with you, Olivia, really talk. Please. And not in the middle of an ER with god knows how many people listening in.”
Olivia hesitates, but then she relents. “Okay. Come over tonight and we’ll discuss it then.”
My heart beats fiercely because this is my chance to claim my daughter and the woman I’ve fallen hard for. I can’t afford to screw this up, and as Olivia leaves the exam room, I watch that curvy figure with new determination. She and the child will be mine, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.
11
Olivia
The knock at the front door startles me. I quickly shut the door to the nursery and scurry out, briefly stopping at the mirror in the bathroom to check my reflection.
As always, my hair is wild and untamable, frizzy in some places but perfectly smooth in others. My leggings cling to my legs and hips, my white v-neck tee shirt so low cut that my breasts nearly spill out of it. While Randall may be ancient history, he’s still part of the memories that I revisit every now and then, and I’ve missed him so much. I want to look good for him, even if it sounds silly and ridiculous, given that there’s spit-up on my shirt.
Another knock sounds on the door and I inwardly curse. Clearly, this man knows nothing about parenting because our child is sleeping, and he better not wake Dorothy up. Especially since I just got her down minutes ago.
I yank open the door, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but then my heart stops. Randall stands there, still in his blue scrubs from work, yet looking ungodly handsome nonetheless. Those blue eyes sear my curvy form, and I can tell he thinks that I look good too.
But then his eyes grow dark with purpose. “Can I come in?”
I nod my head and step aside, allowing him to enter. He steps across the threshold and glances around, and I let out a slow exhale. I tried my best to tidy up when we got home from the ER this morning, but Dorothy wasn’t having it. I had to be glued to her the entire afternoon and if I so much as put her in her high chair, she screamed. So our place is a total pigsty, with toys scattered all over the place and the remnants of her last meal on the floor.
“I’m sorry for the mess,” I blurt out. “But your daughter is a handful sometimes.”
He looks at me and there’s a strange light in them. “I understand, Olivia. Please don’t apologize. Where is she? Dottie?”