“Is she okay?” I blinked when tears of happiness filled my eyes. “How’s the baby?”
“They’re both perfect, of course,” Hilary snapped. “The Department of Fertility has done everything in their power to ensure that.”
Did she really have to throw this propaganda bullshit in my face now?
Not wanting to get into yet another altercation with this woman, I ignored the comment and asked, “Can I see her?”
Hilary’s entire body stiffened. “They’re resting. I already said that.”
I rolled my eyes. This woman was seriously too much.
“Fine. I’ll come back later.”
“You should give them some privacy, Miss Murphy. It’s been a long ordeal, and I’m sure Mrs. Billings would appreciate the time to rest and get to know her son without you breathing down her neck.”
I was breathing down Bette’s neck? Hilary was even more delusional than I thought.
Since there was no point in arguing, I said, “Okay.”
Hilary gave me a plastic smile that didn’t touch her brown eyes.
I turned away, determined to come back in a few hours or tomorrow at the latest. Hilary wouldn’t be there all the time, and once she was gone, Bette could choose whether or not to answer the door when I knocked and if she wanted me to come in. She was an adult, after all. Regardless of how Hilary treated her.
It was nearingdinner when I knocked on Bette’s door for the third time that day. The hall was pretty clear since most people were already making their way to the dining room, and I thought there would be a pretty good chance that Hilary would be doing the same. I didn’t want to overwhelm Bette or crowd her if she did want to be alone, but I also knew she might need support from someone other than an overbearing, propaganda spouting bitch.
After knocking, I waited patiently, knowing that if Bette was in the middle of something – like feeding the baby or changing a diaper – it might take a few minutes for her to answer.
Quiet conversation and the shuffle of footsteps as women headed downstairs filled the silence as the seconds ticked by, and I glanced at my wristband. Dinner was in five minutes, and I was supposed to meet Marc on the fourth floor in a little over an hour, which didn’t give me a lot of time to eat if Bette did answer the door. But I’d make do. Even if I had to skip dinner, it would be worth it.
After nearly a minute, I’d almost given up when the click of the lock being disengaged sounded and the door was pulled open.
“Ara,” a very exhausted but happy looking Bette said, “I’m so glad to see you.”
She opened the door wider, motioning for me to enter, and I stepped into the room.
“Congratulations,” I said, giving her a gentle hug just in case she was sore or something from delivery. “I came by earlier, but Hilary wouldn’t let me in.”
“She was here most of the day.” Bette rolled her eyes when I released her. “I was so glad when she finally left. Seriously, the woman wouldn’t stop hovering. I mean, I know she misses her son, but it was too much.”
And Hilary had implied that I would be in the way.
My friend’s face broke into a huge grin “Come meet my son!”
She waved to the other side of the room where a portable crib had been set up. Next to it was a rolling cart stacked with bags of diapers, tubs of wipes, and piles of burp cloths and blankets and clothes. There were more items on the floor, and they’d even brought in a rocking chair. It was like the place had been converted into a baby store since the last time I was here.
“Wow,” I said, waving to the items as I followed her across the room, “they really stocked the place.”
“It’s not exactly like the nursery I designed back home, but it’s good enough,” Bette said. “At least Warren is healthy. That’s the most important thing.”
“Warren?”
I hadn’t thought to ask what she was planning to name the baby and was surprised by the choice. It sounded so mature.
“It’s Walter’s father’s name.” Bette gave an unconcerned shrug. “It’s fine but wouldn’t have been my first choice.”
“What would have?” I asked.
“His middle name,” Bette replied. “Alexander.”
