Evie's Bombshell - By Amy Andrews Page 0,55

I’m going to spend the rest of my life taking care of you. Nothing … nothing will be too good for the mother of my child. I love you, Evie,’ he said, watching Isaac. ‘I couldn’t have picked a more perfect mother if I’d tried.’

Evie’s breath caught at the words she’d been waiting to hear ever since they’d met at that hospital function five years ago. And they felt so empty.

He was on his daddy high and she was the mother of his child swept up in the raw newness of him coming inside after a long cold winter.

Suddenly she felt overwhelmingly tired.

CHAPTER NINE

AN HOUR LATER, after Evie had expressed for the first time and they’d watch one mil of milk disappear down the gastric tube Finn had insisted that Evie go back to bed. She looked exhausted, the black rings around her eyes had increased, her shoulders had drooped and she was sleep staring at everything with long slow sleepy blinks.

He made a mental note to check her haemoglobin with Marco when he saw him later.

‘What about you?’ she protested. ‘You’ve been up since two with no sleep.’

‘Yes, but I haven’t given birth or had an emergency operation. I’ll catch some sleep tonight in my office if everything stays stable.’ He’d spent many a night on the surprisingly comfortable couch.

It felt wrong to leave Isaac but Bella and Lexi had eagerly volunteered to keep vigil while he pushed Evie back to her room and he had to admit it felt good to be out, stretching his legs.

She was quiet on the trip and his concern for her condition ramped up to another level. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked as he pulled the wheelchair up beside her bed, crouching down in front of her. ‘Have you got pain? Do you feel unwell?’ He placed his palm on her forehead, checking for a temperature.

Evie shut her eyes, allowing herself to lean into his hand for a few seconds. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, avoiding his gaze as she opened her eyes again. ‘Just tired.’

He frowned as she seemed to evade eye contact. It seemed more than that. ‘You need to be rested and well for your milk production.’

Evie blinked. As a doctor, she understood what he was saying was correct. She’d told many a patient exactly that and she had the pamphlet in her hand to back it up. But it wasn’t what she wanted to hear him say. She wanted him to hug her, rub her back and tell her she was beautiful.

Which, of course, he wouldn’t, first because he was Finn and, second, she really wasn’t beautiful, more classically interesting, and last she doubted she’d ever looked worse. Although she guessed it didn’t really matter what you looked like when you’d stopped being a woman and become the milk supply line for a premmie baby.

‘I see you’re going to be the milk police,’ she said, her voice brittle.

Finn chose his words carefully to her irritable response. There was something bugging her. ‘Colostrum is vital for Isaac’s immune system.’

Evie took a steadying breath as despair and animosity battled it out inside her. This was typical Finn in tunnel-vision medical mode. All about the facts.

‘Yes, I know,’ she said, scooting him aside so she could crawl onto her freshly made bed. She almost groaned out loud as the crisp white sheets melted against her skin like snowflakes and all her cells sighed in unison.

Finn stood up and watched as Evie’s eyes fluttered shut. He had the distinct feeling she was trying to block him out. ‘Evie …?’

He hesitated, not really knowing how to voice his concerns to a woman who was probably experiencing a hormone surge not unlike Chernobyl’s meltdown. Even if he did love her.

‘You seem … down … and you know PND can start very early post-partum and it’s particularly high in mothers with premmies.’

Evie sighed. There he went with the facts again. ‘Finn,’ she said sharply, opening her eyes and piercing him with her cranky hazel gaze. ‘I’ve just given birth to a twenty-eight-weeker who’s in the NICU and I’m two floors away. I feel like an utter failure and my arms literally ache to hold him. Yes, I’m down. No, I do not have postnatal depression.’

Finn sat on the side of the bed. ‘Oh, Evie …’ He reached for her hand.

Evie really did not want to be pitied so she evaded his reach. ‘Look, just go, will you, Finn? Go back to Isaac. I’m tired and not thinking