The Nurse's Baby Secret

As Charlie first opened the apartment door and then her car door so she could put the child in his car seat, it struck him that Savannah would be a single mom. She’d have to maneuver their child from one place to another without help.

Because he wouldn’t be there.

He winced at the thought and reminded himself of all the reasons why he’d moved to Nashville to begin with.

Chrissie snapped Joss’s seat, checked to make sure the connection was secure, then she straightened, turned to Charlie.

“Be nice to her.”

Charlie frowned. “Do you think I need to be told to be nice?”

“Do you?” she asked, giving him a look that said she thought he did. “She’s been through a lot and I don’t just mean the wreck.”

“Me?”

Still standing by Joss’s open car door, Chrissie shrugged. “You hurt her pretty bad.”

“That was never my intention.”

She nodded. “I believe that, which is why I still like you. Just make sure you don’t hurt her more.”

“You think she shouldn’t be here? That I shouldn’t be taking care of her right now?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On what your intentions are.”

“I have no intentions.” He didn’t, except to make sure she didn’t live the life his mother had lived.

Chrissie studied him in the dim light of the parking lot. “If you truly mean that, then you shouldn’t be taking care of her. You should have stayed away. Maybe you should ask yourself why you didn’t.”

Charlie wanted to ask what she meant, but Chrissie just walked around the car and opened the driver’s side door.

“I’ll see you in the morning. Oh, and by the way, I don’t believe you on the ‘no intentions’ comment.”

With that she closed the door and drove away.

“Did she get off okay?” Savannah asked when Charlie came back into his apartment.

“She did.” He sat down in the chair Chrissie had vacated minutes before and stared at the woman propped up on his sofa.

“Long day?” she asked, studying him as closely as he was studying her.

“It was.” Too long. “I’m sorry I was late.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she advised. “You owe me nothing.”

“Perhaps I do.”

“What do you mean?”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Ignore me. I’m tired and talking out of my head.”

“Have you eaten? Chrissie made a casserole. It’s in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

He hadn’t eaten. His stomach seemed to suddenly remember that and growled. “Casserole sounds fabulous. I’m starved.”