“AuntDaisy!” Greer protested again.
I looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was almost six thirty, but Amelia promised they never woke up before seven, so I hadn’t been totally negligent.
I hopped out of the bed, pulling my bathrobe off the chair by the door and wrapping it around me in one swift motion.
“Hi, sweets,” I said, opening the door. “You’re an early riser.”
I smoothed her disheveled blond hair as she peered up at me. “I want to get in bed with you,” she said.
It was so cute. But since poor Mason was hiding underneath said bed, it wasn’t a possibility. “Let’s go get in your bed for a minute,” I said. Before she could whine, I said, “There’s no pink at all in my room. We need pink, right?”
It made no sense, but she nodded in agreement.
An hour later, the kids and I were up and dressed, and I was driven to absolute distraction by when I would see Mason again. I was in the kitchen scrambling eggs when I heard the screen door slam. It couldbe Tilley. It could be a neighbor. I was tempering my excitement until I heard, “Who wants doughnuts?”
Greer and George squealed and ran to the door. They were half hanging on Mason as he entered the kitchen.
“You are a bad influence,” I said. “They don’t need all that sugar in the morning.”
Mason opened the box on the counter and said, “One only, please.” The kids each grabbed a doughnut, and Mason took my arm, spatula still in hand, and pulled me into the walk-in pantry. “But I need some sugar in the morning,” he said. I laughed as he kissed me. That kiss wasn’t just an opening now. It was a remembrance. As my free hand found the back pocket of his jeans, I wondered briefly how fast I could get them off.
But, no. The eggs. And the kids.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said.
I nodded, wiping my bottom lip. “The feeling is mutual.”
He took the spatula from my hand and went out to attend to the eggs, as I watched him.Get it together, Daisy.
As he scraped the eggs and joked with his niece and nephew, the most uncomfortable knowing washed over me: I loved him. I was in love with Mason Thaysden. And, if the stories I had heard were to be believed, there was nothing he could ever do but break my heart.
I loved my nursing schedule. I worked three twelve-hour shifts per week, which, yes, was draining while I was in it, but gave me plenty of time off to recuperate—or, as I was doing now, babysit. In the future, it would give me plenty of self-care time, which I was looking forward to. While keeping George and Greer had reminded me how physically and mentally demanding it was to be a parent, it was also showing me how muchfunit was. And how convenient it would be to have so much time off when and if I was fostering Maisy full-time.
So today, I walked through the doors of Cape Carolina Medical as a guest. “Hi, Bernice!” I called to the woman at the front desk.
She looked confused. “Aren’t you off today?”
“Yes, but I wanted to come visit Maisy.”
Bernice knew all about our little Jane Doe and how Mason and I had nicknamed her. I walked toward the desk and, lowering my voice, said, “No one else has come to see her, have they?”
It was selfish. Real love was wanting what was best for the baby, and I shouldwanther to have visitors. I should want her to be smothered with love from every direction. And Iwouldwant that. In the future. For now, I wanted her to be mine, all mine.
Bernice shook her head sadly. “No visitors. Breaks my heart. I can only think of one other baby in all of Cape Carolina history that has had no visitors. Usually family members are fighting over who gets to come in.”
That made my heart surge with love for this little baby. And for another one that I had to increasingly push out of my mind. “But she has us, right?” I swallowed hard, trying to keep tears out of my eyes. Were we enough? Sometimes, I well knew, we had to be. But sometimes it felt so unfair.
Bernice nodded. “I go up and hold her a couple times a day on my breaks like you told me to.”
“Thanks, Bernice. I know she really appreciates it.”
I knew I did too. I couldn’t be here every second, especially this week. I walked to the elevator bank to the right of the check-in desk and stepped inside a pair of doors opening at the perfect time. I was so excited to get upstairs, to see my girl. But I mused that I was excited to step inside that elevator most days. I truly loved my job and felt so grateful to have the opportunity to do it. How many people felt that way about their careers? I knew it was a gift.
And, also, let’s face it: A big part of my good mood was from Mason. He had insisted on helping me get the kids to school since Aunt Tilley was noticeably absent from the morning’s festivities. And then we’d made out a little in the high school parking lot, which was pretty fun. I felt giddy and alive and like all the colors were brighter. The first bloom of early love, the urgency of it, the heightened sensibility, were too great for any words. I wanted more and more of that.
Laura was holding a chart in one hand and a lollipop in the other when I stepped off the elevator.
“What’s cookin’, good-lookin’?” she asked.
