“Hey, sweet pea,” Simona said, reaching for the baby. “Has her fever gone down at all, Eve?” she asked with concern.
“No,” the woman answered. “And she still can’t keep anything down.”
Simona placed a kiss on the baby’s brow. “I think I’d better take her in to emergency. It’s probably a virus, but with her history, I don’t want to take any chances.” She finally turned to Donovan. “I’m sorry.” Something like regret flickered in her gaze.
The woman, whom he assumed was her neighbor, said, “Simona, I’ll go and fix a couple of bottles.” She divided a wary glance between Donovan and Simona and walked out.
Simona nibbled on her lip, something he realized she did as a nervous habit. “I need to pack her bag, but...”
“Go pack the bag. I’ll take her.” Donovan gently took the baby from her arms.
“Um...she doesn’t really do well with strangers.”
He glared at her. “Go pack the bag, Simona,” he said softly.
She nodded, turned and took off down the hall.
“Simona?”
She paused.
“What’s her name?”
“Yasmine.”
Donovan stared down at the little girl. Even though he hadn’t spent much time around small babies, he knew Yasmine didn’t feel well. Her eyes were glassy, and her cheeks were reddened. She stared up at him, scrunched her face as if she was about to cry then relaxed her features. She lifted her small hand, touched his face and placed her head against his chest. A myriad of emotions filled his heart and he fell...hard.
“Hey, Yasmine.” He used his thumb to wipe the moisture around her temple. “You’re going to be just fine, angel.” He spun around at the sound of Simona’s voice.
“Okay. I’m ready.” She accepted the bottles from her friend and added them to the bag. Simona walked over to where Donovan stood holding Yasmine and put a jacket on her.
Donovan handed her the baby. “I’ll drive you.”
Her eyes widened. “We’ll be fine,” she said quickly.
“You’re in no shape to drive, and Yasmine might need you with her,” he argued.
“Eve was going to go with me.”
He could tell Simona didn’t want to be alone with him. And with good reason.
“Ah, Simona. You go ahead with him. Call me later.” The woman walked over and extended her hand to Donovan. “I’m Eve Thompson, Simona’s neighbor. You must be Donovan. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
He stared at her questioningly and shook her hand. “Donovan Wright. Same here.”
“I’ll see you later, Simona.” Eve gathered up some papers and stuffed them in a bag.
Donovan gestured toward the door. “Let’s go.” He took a few moments to transfer the car seat and make sure they were buckled in before leaving. They completed the drive in total silence, except for the two times he heard Simona talking to Yasmine. Trust and honesty were the two things that topped his list, and he never would have expected her to keep something like this from him. More questions invaded his thoughts. Had she been married before? And where was Yasmine’s father? The fact that she hadn’t trusted him enough made his chest tighten and angered him further. He took several deep breaths and let them out slowly in the hopes it would ease the tension.
By the time they reached the hospital, he had found a small measure of calm. Luckily, because it was only five-thirty in the evening, the emergency room wasn’t crowded. They were called within twenty minutes. Common sense and anger dictated that he stay in the waiting room—after all, he wasn’t the father—but he couldn’t do it. Little Yasmine had tugged on his heart the moment she touched him. Donovan and Simona still hadn’t exchanged any words outside of what was absolutely necessary, but he followed them back.
Donovan listened and found out that Yasmine had been born early and had been on a ventilator for two weeks following her birth. The doctor examined her and concluded that she had a virus. But because she was unable to keep anything down, including the fever-reducing medication, the doctor prescribed a suppository, as he wanted to keep her fever from climbing any higher. Donovan tried to stay out of the way, but every time he moved, Yasmine’s eyes would follow him.
After an hour, he couldn’t take it. That little angelic face and sad eyes pushed him over the edge. Donovan crossed the room to where she lay, stroked her forehead placed a kiss there. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart? You don’t feel as warm.” When he held her hand, tiny fingers wrapped around his pinky, drawing him in even more.