Page 48 of Doctor Daddies

“It’s going to be alright,” he promises me, and there’s a certainty to his tone that’s almost enough to convince me that he’s telling the truth.

“I know,” I breathe back, and I reach out to rest my hand on Lewis’s shoulder, silently reminding him that I’m still here and that I will not be going anywhere.

“I’m going to get a few rehydration packets,” Mathilda tells me, once they have Lewis settled in bed. “And then I’m going to head down to the pharmacy to get some medication dispensed.”

“We can handle the rehydration side of it,” James announces, stepping forward. “We’re all doctors.”

The woman glances around for a moment, clearly a little surprised—but I nod.

“Please, just get the medication,” I tell her. “I just want him feeling better, that’s all I care about.”

She nods, and ducks out of the room to pick up some supplies before she brings them back to the guys so they can start to make use of them. James makes up the drinks, and Ross leans against the door to make sure we’re not going to be disturbed. Cole is still at my side, doing everything he can to keep me calm.

“See, he’s already starting to doze off,” he remarks, and I look to the bed to see that Lewis is beginning to get a little heavy-lidded. He sips on the drink that James made him, drinking through a straw as best he can, but then rests his head back against the pillow and begins to fall asleep.

I breathe a sigh of relief; him being able to sleep is a good sign. When he’s in a lot of pain, he can’t do anything but lie there awake and in agony, and there’s nothing I hate more than seeing him suffering like that.

I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingertips. I can’t believe all of this has happened. Not just Lewis having a flare, I mean—something like that was always bound to come up again—but the way the guys leapt into action to help me when I needed them most. They didn’t even think twice, taking on the responsibility of looking after my son even though they have no reason to. They should have been asleep, out for the count, and they likely had been. But the second I called on them for help, they dropped everything to come running.

And as I look around at them again, it strikes me what a good sign this is for the other children in my life right now. The unborn ones. I cup my hand over my belly, which is just starting to show now, a tiny bump beneath the baggy tee that I slept in. I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t help but hope that they’re aware of this, somehow. Aware of everything their fathers are doing for their brother, even though they have never so much as met him.

I haven’t given much thought till now of what they might actually be like as parents, but seeing them here, with Lewis, at his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world, it’s hard to imagine they will be anything other than perfect.

Look at the way they’ve dealt with this—better than I ever could. I wonder, briefly, if I should have reached out to them before this to try and figure out something with them then—maybe I could have gotten Lewis better help sooner if I had dared to get in touch with them. But it’s not like I knew how it was going to turn out, and the risk had just seemed too huge at the time.

“Here, take a seat,” James murmurs, guiding me to a chair sitting just next to Lewis’s bed. “You should get some rest.”

“I’m fine, honestly,” I attempt, but I find that I’m yawning before I can even finish what I’m saying.

Ross smiles slightly, shaking his head. “No, you’re not,” he replies. “Get some sleep. We’ll wake you up if anything happens, okay?”

I nod, already feeling my eyes starting to grow heavy. Normally, if my son was going through an attack like this, I would find it hard to switch off for days, constantly checking over him to see if he’s doing okay, to figure out if he needs anything, to check to see if there are any more signs of an oncoming issue.

But I know I can trust the guys to handle that for me. They have shown themselves over and over again to be capable in more ways than I’ve even given them credit for, and I intend to do everything in my power to show them how much I appreciate it.

Just as soon as I get a little sleep.

Before I know it, I find myself drifting off, and soon, a comfortable quiet rises up inside me and allows me to find some peace.

23

JAMES

I watchMillie as Lewis sleeps next to me—she’s still tucked up on the hospital chair, her legs under her, her head lolling awkwardly to one side to try and find something to rest on. I thought about moving her earlier, into a more comfortable position at least, but she’s so exhausted. I think the best thing I can do for her is let her sleep.

Outside, dawn is just beginning to break, the city beyond starting to wake up. As for me, I’ve been up since three, when Cole called me and told me to meet them at the hospital as soon as I got the chance. I rushed down here, on a call to Johnson the entire time, the gastroenterology expert we’ve worked with a few times at the clinic. And while he might not have been there to tend to the matter himself, he sent someone who clearly knows what she’s doing, and Lewis already looks like he’s on the mend.

It hurt, seeing him in so much pain; he’s been so sweet and cheerful the other times I’ve seen him, it’s hard to believe that he could be capable of such depths of agony too. A kid should never have to go through something like that, not in a million years, and I pray that we have done enough to get the worst of it out ofhis system. I intend to get him a few more referrals tomorrow, just to feel like I’m doing something to make this entire situation a little easier.

Across from me, Millie stirs, her eyes fluttering open as she looks around and seems to remember where she is. She sighs, rubbing a hand over her face, and looks around. “What’s going on?”

“Cole and Ross had to go to the clinic,” I explain softly, reaching across the bed to take her hand. “But everything’s okay. Mathilda came by to give Lewis his medication, and he’s been sleeping ever since. She’s going to come back again in about an hour, check in on how he’s doing, and see if he might be ready to go home.”

Her eyes fall shut with relief. “Thank goodness,” she mumbles, her voice still croaky from sleep. “I… When I saw him in his room yesterday, I could just tell how much pain he was in. I would have done anything to make it better, but?—”

“You did everything you should have,” I assure her. “You took care of him. That’s what matters.”

She looks at me, and I can tell that she doesn’t believe it. There are dark rings under her eyes, and I can tell that they’re not just from tonight. No, they’re from a million nights like this in the past, nights she had to deal with all of this alone, nights when she didn’t even have us to turn to.