Seventeen minutes later,looking through a window into a playroom that contained a solitary tiny baby girl, something happened that was so goddamned profound, I knew I’d never be the same man I was mere seconds before.
I fell in love.
And it was weird because even though I felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness for Imogen before, it was nothing like this.
We stood at a large window looking into a room laden with toys and games where a tiny, dot of a baby girl sat with an elderly black lady, surrounded by building blocks.
Tia and Jen let themselves into the room, and Tia went straight over to the little girl and picked her up.
The baby held her arms out willingly to Tia as she lifted her, and allowed herself to be carried toward the window, her knowing, watchful gaze never leaving Tia’s face. And when I saidallowedherself to be carried, that was exactly what I meant because I had a feeling that if that baby girl objected to anything you did, she’d let you know it, and something about that made me smile.
Jen fell into step beside them and cooed something to Imogen while holding up the raggy doll I’d bought her. My heart melted as I watched Imogen’s face light up. She clumsily took the toy in her little arms and buried her little face in it.
Fire hit the back of my throat.
“Sweet, sweet Jesus, Donovan. She’s a beauty just like my mammy,” Ma whispered.
I nodded, unable to speak, and swallowed down the lump burning my throat.
Mam’s hand caught mine, and I heard her suck in a breath as Tia approached the window. She murmured something to Imogen, who looked at her owlishly and then turned and stared straight at me.
Our eyes locked, and my heart exploded because there and then, for the first time in my thirty-five years, I had something.
I was gone for my daughter.
I must have looked like an idiot, standing there, gulping back tears, unable to drag my eyes away from the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen, but I didn’t care. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the first time I’d be a fool for my baby girl.
I smiled wryly because the photograph I saw the day before didn’t do my daughter justice.
It certainly didn’t prepare me.
Imogen was blonde-haired, smooth-skinned, and beautifully formed. Her bright blue eyes were mine, but they were also her own. They held their own story behind them and conveyed that she already knew more than she should have, and it was something I didn’t entirely like.
There and then, I decided we’d make more stories—our own beautiful ones—and we’d do it together. Never again would anything bad happen to my girl. I’d slay every dragon that breathed fire in her direction.
Imogen snuggled her raggy doll into her already elegant little neck and smiled shyly up at me.
She knew. She could feel it too.
My insides melted, and the compulsion to raise my hand and touch the glass separating us was so strong that I couldn’t resist.
Seeing it, Imogen leaned forward and touched the window where my fingertips rested.
Every organ, every bone, every drop of blood inside me, and every inch of skin encasing me blazed with the need to protect her.
My daughter was perfect.
Just perfect.
And she was mine.
CHAPTER 10
DONOVAN
The next few days consisted of countless phone calls, official forms and paperwork, meetings, a mountain of frustration, and a fuck ton of worry.
My first phone call was to Kennedy, whose tone was cool with me at first, but then gradually warmed up after I explained what had happened. Apparently, my mam had already blabbed to Tristan on a long-ass phone call during her car journey here, so I didn’t have to explain the entire ‘who’s the daddy’ story.
