“You have a child?” I asked.
He practically beamed love, and the emotion made his expression breathtaking. “Escher. He’s fourteen. Not as sweet as your young man, here.” His eyes continued to twinkle. “Bring him again, Ms. Dagon. I’d forgotten how invigorating an infant can be.”
I slapped my free hand over my mouth at that comment so I didn’t sputter.
Dr. Finch noticed, but he simply chuckled as he shook his head. “You’ll see.”
There wasn’t much Dr. Finch didn’t observe.
CHAPTER2
Jamieson
Abbi Dagon’schild couldn’t be more than five, six months, tops, but she looked like a strong wind would blow her over. I worried about her getting enough calories, especially if she was breastfeeding. I worried about Hudson getting enough to eat based on her tiny frame. He’d been so light to hold…but then I remembered the fat rolls in his arms and thighs. No, that precious boy was eating, and well, I’d say.
His mom, though…I wasn’t so sure, and I didn’t like that.
“Do you have help with him?” I asked, worry clouding my typically lightning-quick thoughts.
Libby shook her head, her gaze once again going to those shoes.
“What about Hudson’s father?” I asked bluntly, irritated that the young man in question seemed to find it acceptable to disappear on this smart, dedicated young lady.
“Dead,” she said, her voice as flat as the word that landed between us.
My anger turned inward. I’d been callous to ask, but I’d assumed…wrongly. She rocked the baby, cooing softly to him. Libby glanced up at me with big, guileless light brown eyes. She reminded me of a doe—soft and sweet and too good for the likes of a man like me. My gaze had unerringly flitted toward her all semester.
Under my scrutiny, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, her cheeks flaming. She dropped her gaze to the baby, clearly too flustered to continue to hold my stare.
Interesting.
“Hudson’s mine because I adopted him. He’s technically my nephew, but my brother and his wife were killed in a car accident when she was thirty-four weeks along. My parents passed when I was young, and my sister-in-law’s parents didn’t want to raise a baby at their age—they’re in their seventies. So, he’s mine.”
The little darling lifted her chin and met my gaze with determination. “You were thrust into this…”
She curled over the baby and shot me a glare that had me holding up my hands. “I wouldn’t saythat. Not at all. Iwantedto be Hudson’s mom.” She huffed, annoyance flashing in her eyes. “I love the little guy.”
“But you had no preparation…I mean, you just got a call and…and collected a newborn?”
She blinked rapidly a few times, her lashes tangling together and partially obscuring her brown eyes. “He needed me.”
Those words hit deep inside me. He needed me.
As Escher had needed me.
In this, Libby Dagon and I were similar. And yet, her tumble into parenthood was more abrupt and traumatic than mine.
I admired Libby Dagon even more now. Before, when she was still a rather anonymous student in a sea of young adults, her sharp mind drew me. She might be unassuming, liked to fade into the background, but in this moment, her sweet face had settled with determination, her jaw thrust forward with a pugnaciousness I couldn’t help but admire.
Freckles dotted her nose, while the rest of her skin was a smooth cream. Her white-blonde hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and dark rings circled her brown doe-like eyes.
Of courseshe was tired. She was taking one of the most challenging math classes ever devised while caring for a newborn and grieving her family.
This woman had a will forged by the forges of hell. I…felt too much and liked what I felt for her more.
“Like I told you, it’s not a problem if you need to bring him again,” I said, my tone gruff, forcing distance between us. “He did great up here. I think he likes the limelight.”
I offered her a small grin in an effort to show her I meant what I said. Her pupils blazed wide in response, and her face flamed. She ducked her head.
