He puts the car in park and smiles at me. "You're welcome," he says, and I think he understands that I'm not just talking about giving me a lift.
I hesitate as I open the passenger side door, but only for an instant. Then I ask, "Will you come in with me?"
I see the hope flare in his blue eyes so like my own. "Of course I will."
We go in together, and just entering the hospital makes me a wreck all over again. Thankfully, Frank takes over, leading us to the maternity ward and then finding a nurse who can get us a status update.
Before she can pull up Syl's chart, however, I see Jackson bounding down the hallway, his face alight with relief and pleasure. I race toward him and he pulls me into a tight hug. "She's fine," he says. "It was close there for a bit, but they're both fine. Sylvia, and our son," he adds with an extra note of pride.
A laugh bubbles out of me and I reach out, automatically squeezing Frank's hand.
"Where's Ronnie?" I ask, thinking that she must be thrilled. Syl and Jackson had decided to wait to learn the baby's sex, but I know that Ronnie was hoping for a baby brother.
"Cass and Siobhan took her to the cafeteria. Sylvia's probably going to be out for a few hours--they gave her some sedatives. And they took the baby to be checked out and then to the nursery. He's doing great. Had a scary couple of minutes, but everything is fine now."
"I'm so glad," I say, as I see Damien hurrying up the corridor. I drop Frank's hand and race to him. "She's okay," I say. "And your nephew is doing just fine, too."
He swings me around, then kisses me, and then captures Jackson in a bear hug. "Congratulations. I got all those messages and was fearing the worst. Sorry I couldn't get here in time."
"You're in plenty of time," Jackson says. "Come on. I'll introduce you to my son."
Frank pats my shoulder. "I'm going to go on now. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Can you wait? Not long, I promise. But I'd like to see the baby and talk to Damien, and then maybe we could chat some more?"
I can feel Damien's eyes on me, and I wish I knew what he was thinking. But I want this--I want the chance to talk more with my father.
He hesitates, then nods. "I'll wait."
I halfway expect Frank to offer to walk with us to the nursery, and when he doesn't, I'm relieved that he understands that I need to see Damien by myself.
We go with Jackson, who beams as he points out the six-pound, nine-ounce boy sleeping peacefully in a bassinet. "He's had a busy day," I say.
"And he's absolutely gorgeous," Damien adds.
"He really is," Jackson agrees. "He takes after his mother."
He moves between me and Damien so that he can put an arm around us both. "I love you two," he says. "Stay. Bask in the miracle that is my kid. I'm going to go sit with Syl. I don't want her to wake up without me there."
"We'll be here when she does," Damien promises, and as Jackson walks off, Damien turns to me, but says nothing.
I know what he's thinking.
"I have to believe him, Damien," I say. "I have to believe that he didn't come here to hurt me, but to get to know me. I have to because one day--not now, but someday--I want this." I nod to the tiny sleeping boy in the bassinet. "And I don't think I can do that unless I know--really know--that parents can fix their mistakes. That not every mom and dad will sacrifice their child on the altar of their own self-interest."
"He left you," Damien reminds me. "He just up and walked away."
"I know. And I'll have to deal with that. But he came back--and, Damien, I don't think he came back with an ulterior motive."
I expect him to argue. Or to at least remind me not to get my hopes up. So I'm surprised when he nods. "You may be right."
"Really?"
"Ryan reviewed the hotel's security footage. Someone entered Frank's room. Stayed about three minutes, and left."
"Who?"
"That's what we want to find out. But it's likely that they planted the pictures. Probably someone hired to do it. The real question is who's behind it."
"Ideas?"
"Several," he says, and I nod, thinking of my mother, for one. Was she simply trying to make me think ill of Frank when she told me he'd asked about Damien's fortune? Or was she deliberately planting seeds of doubt that would culminate with the discovery of the photos?
I shake my head, not willing to worry about it right now. I know Ryan and Damien are on it, and that's sufficient for the moment. Instead, I focus on the good news. "This proves Frank's telling the truth."
"It suggests that he probably is," Damien concedes. "But he may be smart. Or working with someone who's smart."
I know what he's thinking. Sofia would have been sneaky enough to have someone plant the evidence on her rather than just bringing it. Like a double-blind, she'd have an out.
I don't think Frank is working with Sofia, and I don't believe Damien does, either. But the point is valid. Con men are clever. They're smart. And they hide in plain sight with the mark of innocence all over them.
But I can't think like that. Not anymore.
"Maybe I'm naive--maybe I'm going to get burned--but I believe he's telling the truth. More than that, I have to believe him. Do you understand?"
Slowly, Damien nods. "I do."
It's all he says, but it doesn't matter; I hear the rest of it. He's still uncertain, but that's okay. He won't let his doubt interfere with me getting to know my father. And eventually, he'll come around to Frank's side.
Or if it turns out that I'm wrong...well, if that's the case then Damien will catch me when I fall. But until then, he's holding the net while I make a huge leap of faith.
I love him for that. And for so very much more.
Chapter 11
Dinner in the hospital cafeteria was a celebratory affair, with me and Damien, Cass and Siobhan, Ryan and Jamie, and Frank all lifting our iced tea and soda glasses and making toast after toast.
Afterward, Damien and I said our goodbyes and promised to get together with Frank in the morning. Right now, it's sufficient that he knows that we believe him. Both me and Damien.
And, as Frank pointed out as we walked him to his car, there's no rush. "I'm in LA for good. This time, I promise I'm not going away."
Now, I'm curled up next to Damien in our bed. It's only eight, but I'm exhausted, and I sigh contentedly as I run my fingers through his chest hair.
"Good day?"
"Exhausting day, but one of the best." I prop myself up on my elbow. "Two new family members. I think that's a record."
I realize as I speak, that I'm already starting to think of Frank as more than blood--as family. A quick stab of fear cuts through me, because there is always the possibility that he's as deceptive a snake as Damien's father.
Right now, though, I have to believe that's not true.
Beside me, Damien's expression darkens. "Damien? What is it?"
"I was thinking of Jackson. What he went through today." He pulls me closer, crushing me against his body so that the vibration of each word rumbles through me. "I couldn't lose you, Nikki," he says with a tight ferocity.
"You won't," I say. "And Sylvia's fine. The baby's fine." I push myself up a bit so that I can see his face. The fear fading to warmth and then to the tiniest of smiles.
"Your face," he says. "The look on your face as you watched that tiny little person."
I say nothing; I can hardly deny having been mesmerized by the little guy.
"Someday you want one." It's not a question, merely a statement of fact.
I prop myself on my elbow. "We've talked about this. I've always wanted one. But our past. Our families. Our issues. My issues." I shake my head, the motion almost like a shudder, and I think of how much I wanted to cut just this morning. "It's always going to be inside me. That urge. Even with you here to help me fight it."
"You think that means you'd be a bad mom?"
I consider the question, because it deserves an honest answer. "No--no, I don't. I guess..." I trail
off with a shake of my head.
"What?"
I draw in a breath as I try to put words to my jumbled thoughts. "It's just that I never thought I'd be ready. I mean, I wanted kids, but in the abstract. In some amorphous future that I couldn't pinpoint. But now--I don't know. It's different because I have a family now."
"And you didn't before," he says, and it's another statement, not a question.