Evie's Bombshell - By Amy Andrews Page 0,53
‘Here. Let me.’
Bella stepped back. ‘I’ll give you two some privacy,’ she said. ‘Ring me, Finn, when Evie’s ready to go back and I can take her, or I can sit with the baby for a while if you like so you can stretch your legs.’
Finn nodded his thanks and pushed Evie over to the cot side. ‘Here he is,’ he murmured. ‘Master Impatient.’
Evie felt tears well in her eyes, overwhelmed by the fragile little human being they’d created dwarfed by the medical technology around him. He was wearing the tiniest disposable nappy Evie had ever seen and a little blue beanie. He looked like a doll and the mother in her wanted to scoop him up, clutch him to her breast, slay anyone who dared come near him, but the doctor knew he was better off right where he was for now.
She flattened her palm against the glass, too low in the chair to be able to reach in and too sore and weak to be able to stand but feeling the strength of their connection anyway. Their unbreakable bond.
‘Hello, baby, I’m your mummy,’ she whispered.
And she listened as Finn pulled up a chair beside her and recounted what had happened since they’d left her in the department. About how their son had improved in leaps and bounds and how incredibly stable his blood gases and body temp and sugar levels had been.
‘He’s done everything right, Evie.’ Finn placed a hand on her knee. ‘He’s a real little fighter.’
Evie nodded, tears blurring her vision. ‘Of course,’ she said, placing a hand over his and giving him a squeeze. She looked at him. ‘He’s just like his daddy.’
Finn’s heart almost broke at the shimmer of tears in her eyes. He never wanted her to hurt again. He’d watch her go through hell last night and then she’d gone through even more without him, and he didn’t want to ever be away from her again. He wanted to wrap them both up and love them for ever.
Finn turned his hand over and intertwined their fingers. ‘According to your father, he has the Lockheart brow.’
Evie laughed. ‘My father’s been?’
Finn nodded. ‘He and your mother called in briefly earlier. She agreed.’
‘My mother?’ They’d been making some inroads to their relationship in the last months since Bella had received her new lungs but Evie knew there was still a long way to go.
‘Well, they’re both wrong,’ she said, gazing at her son’s tiny face. Even all wizened, she could see the mark of Kennedy genes everywhere. ‘He has your brow. And your chin. And your nose. I don’t know about those fabulous cheekbones, though …’
Finn stared at them as he’d been doing for the last eight hours, trying not to remember why they were so familiar. ‘They’re Isaac’s,’ he whispered, finally admitting it. ‘According to Lydia, Isaac had cheekbones that belonged in Hollywood.’
Evie glanced at him. His voice was tinged with sadness and humour and regret. ‘I’m sorry he never got to see his nephew,’ she whispered, holding tight to his hand.
Finn nodded. ‘So am I. He’d have been a great uncle.’
And for the first time in a long time he remembered the happy times he and Isaac had shared instead of how it had all ended, and he could smile. How Isaac had always managed to find a baby to cuddle or a toddler to give a piggy-back ride to, wherever they’d ended up.
The baby squirmed, making a mewling noise like a tiny kitten and waving his little fists, no bigger than gumballs, in the air, dislodging a chest electrode and tripping an alarm. Evie’s gaze flew to the cot, her pulse spiking as a moment of fear gripped her, suddenly understanding how nerve-racking it must be for her patients to be in an unfamiliar environment with strange machines that made alarming noises.
‘It’s okay,’ the nurse said, unconcerned, as she pushed the alarm silence button. ‘Just lost a dot.’
She located the AWOL chest lead and replaced it back just below a collarbone that looked to Evie as spindly as a pipe cleaner. ‘There we go, little darling,’ the nurse crooned. ‘All fixed.’ She smiled at Finn and Evie. ‘Is there a name yet? Because we can call him little darling for ever but he might get teased when he goes to school,’ she joked.
Evie looked at Finn and then back at the nurse. ‘We hadn’t got that far,’ she said helplessly, already feeling like she’d failed her tiny little son twice. Once for