He’d missed the first year of his daughter’s life. The fetal stage. And everything that came between then and the sleeping baby across from him.
Lizzie’s silence ratcheted up the tension inside him.
“What’s her birthday?”
“September 23.”
Nine people in his family—seven siblings and their parents—and they had no September birthdays.
“She’ll be three months old next week,” Lizzie added, giving him information he could figure for himself when what he needed were real details. All of them.
Though he probably didn’t deserve them. He’d had his chance. She’d tried to find him.
“How long were you in labor?”
He had no personal experience, but he’d seen television and knew the basics. Labor looked excruciating—something he’d never understood a guy putting a woman he loved through. Figured, when it came that time for him, he’d have better understanding.
“Not long.”
Thank God. “You had her quickly, then?”
She shrugged. Kind of nodded.
“Did you have a coach?”
“No.”
“Was Carmela there? Or your aunt?” He was immediately jealous of both of them.
“No.”
Now he was put out by them. They’d left Lizzie all alone at such a critical time? As had he. The guilt was a strong acidy taste in his mouth. It made no difference that he hadn’t known. He had no right to point fingers. No rights at all.
But he had responsibilities. Having no idea where that led him didn’t let him off the hook.
“I can’t believe Carmela wasn’t there,” he said, scrambling for his next move. Or word. “She—”
“Carmela got there as soon as she could.” Lizzie’s tone was unmistakably defensive as she interrupted him.
“You went that quickly?” He’d heard of that. There was an episode of some sitcom where a woman gave birth in a cab or something. He couldn’t quite remember.
“I had to have an emergency cesarean. That’s why Carmela wasn’t there. I wasn’t even sure I was in labor. I had just gone into my doctor’s office to have her check me, and my blood pressure was off the charts.”
Her words, issued softly, almost as an afterthought, stabbed so deep.
> “You were in danger?”
“I had a seizure at the doctor’s office,” she said, continuing to twist the blade of guilt inside him. “If they hadn’t taken her I could have died. Or ended up with brain damage.”
She could have had a seizure on the way to the doctor’s office, been in a car crash. They both might have died.
Oh, God, what had he done? His damned selfish need to be free had driven him to make a woman pregnant. Fighting that yearning had left her alone to almost die.
“I’m so sorry, Lizzie.” The words didn’t even scrape the surface. “I should have been there. I’m so damned sorry.”
“There’s nothing you could have done. It came on suddenly. I’d just been in for a check earlier in the week because she was a couple of days late. Everything was fine. It was just one of those things.”
“But you had major surgery... I... And caring for a newborn...” He had an entire family who’d have stepped in to help her. Three sisters and a mother who’d have known what to do.