“I see no reason why the court can’t grant full custody of Imogen to Mr. O’Shea,” the judge announced, turning to me. “I’ll sign the order immediately on the proviso that you look into attending parenting classes when you get home.”
I nodded, unable to speak through the blood rushing in my ears.
“Miss Brown, I trust you’ll look into the details of classes local to Hambleton and pass them on to Mr. O’Shea?” the judge asked.
Tia beamed a huge smile. “Of course, Your Honor.”
“I want Mr. O’Shea to be entered onto the birth certificate. Speak to my secretary; she has a contact at the registrar’s office who can arrange for a new one to be completed as a matter of urgency. No more delays; I think it’s time for Imogen to go home, don’t you?”
Tia’s grin widened. “Definitely, Your Honor.”
The judge closed down the court, threw me an approving nod, and swept out through the door leading to her chambers while I watched her, eyes unseeing, feeling dazed and in shock.
Imogen was mine.
God help me.
I was a father.
Fuck.
Shit.
Fuck.
Kennedy nudged me. “You okay?”
“I’m terrified,” I croaked.
“You should be. Take it from the mom of another beautiful blonde girl, you’ve got some sleepless nights ahead, especially when the horny teenage boys come knocking at your door. Kit’s out of his damned mind most days.”
I gulped down the rising bile. “Stop that!” I snapped. “You’re just cruel.”
Kennedy stood up, laughing. “Come on. It’s time to meet your daughter. The judge was right; it’s time for Imogen to go home.”
“Jen’s on her way with her now,” Tia informed us. “We’ve finished early. I was expecting us to be in here at least an hour, but it’s only been twenty minutes.” She shot me a rueful smile. “Sorry.”
I stood up, intending to thank Tia for everything she’d done and shake her hand, when I felt a warm body hit me from behind.
“I knew you’d get her,” Rosie whispered from my back. “I’m so proud of what you just did. I can’t even?—”
I spun around, grabbed Rosie’s hand, and dragged her toward the doors.
“What are you doing?” she demanded with a laugh.
“We’ve got a few minutes to kill,” I rasped, pulling her through to the corridor and down toward the ladies' room.
Rosie’s words, her intent, the fact that she was even here blew my mind, but it shouldn’t have done. This was Rosie, putting everybody else first—puttingmefirst. She needed to earn money and had two kids to care for, but here she was, hundreds of miles away from home, supporting me when I needed her the most.
Rosie Woods wasn’t one in a million.
She was one in a lifetime.
Shouldering open the door to the ladies' room, I pulled her inside, took her to the basins, clutched her waist, and lifted herass onto the counter. Then I pushed between her legs, locked eyes with her, and breathed, “Hi.”
“Hi,” she breathed right back.
My fingers curled into the back of her neck, and I murmured, “The instant you walked inside that room, my heart began to beat differently.”
