Baby I'm Yours (Angel Sands 5)

He nodded, coming to a stop in front of the oversized glass doors, waiting for them to swing open. When they did, he pushed the wheelchair through, his eyes blinking as they adjusted to the bright California light.

One day. That was all this was. And if he had to spend it with his chest hurting and his teeth grinding together then he’d do that for Sara and Jacob.

And tomorrow he’d sort out the rest of his life.

23

“Lift your head up for me, sweetie,” Harper said softly. The little girl tipped her head back, and Harper took the pins out from between her lips, sliding them into the straps that needed tightening. “That’s it,” she told her, standing back to check the fit. “You look amazing.”

“Can I see in the mirror?” Lola asked, so excited she was practically jumping up and down.

“Sure. Come with me. You need to walk carefully because there are pins everywhere. I don’t want them to jab you.” Harper took the little girl’s hand and led her to the floor length mirror. She stood behind her, hands on her shoulders and watched her reflection as her face lit up.

“I look like a princess,” Lola whispered.

“Yes you do. And on the day of the fashion show you’ll feel like one, too. You’ll be wearing a little silver crown with flowers in your hair. I can’t wait to see what you look like.”

They were in a small room in the Silver Sands Resort, fitting all the models for the fashion show in three weeks’ time. Lola’s mom was standing next to them, taking photographs of her daughter as she stared at herself in the mirror. “She’s a natural,” Harper whispered. “So grown up for a five-year-old.”

“She’s always been like this,” Lola’s mom agreed. “From the moment she was born she seemed like a mini-adult. We’ve been so lucky with her, being able to take her places without worrying she’ll throw a tantrum or start screaming.” She nodded at Harper’s stomach. “How long until your little one arrives?”

“Seven weeks.” Harper took a deep breath. When she said it like that, it didn’t sound long at all. She was counting down the days until the fashion show. After that, she promised herself she’d slow down. She’d already paid the first three months’ rent on her apartment, and had more saved in the bank to see her through the first few months after the baby was born. And she knew from the orders she’d received for her next season’s collection that she had more than enough work to keep her cash flowing.

“Not long then. I had Lola at thirty-five weeks. She stopped growing so they took me in for an emergency C-section.” She smiled. ?

??It was so scary at the time, but now look at her. You wouldn’t know she was premature at all.”

“Thirty-five weeks?” Harper repeated. “That’s early.”

“Not any more. There were babies in the NICU much smaller than her. One was born at twenty-eight weeks. He was tiny, no bigger than my hand, and yet he survived.” She smiled. “Lola looked like a giant compared to him.”

Harper rubbed her stomach. “Well this baby isn’t going anywhere,” she said firmly. “I have too much to do before then.”

Lola’s mom laughed. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”

“Thank you. I’ll take all the luck I can get.”

She was still thinking about their conversation later as she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main beach road leading to Angel Sands. The dresses she’d fitted were in the back of her car, ready to be adjusted prior to the fashion show. She glanced at the clock on her dash – she had no plans this afternoon. Maybe she’d get started on them now, then she could spend the next week concentrating on other orders.

Her sewing machine and supplies were still in James’s basement. There was no way she wanted to risk them getting dusty, or even worse, splashed with paint, while she was decorating her apartment. When she pulled into his driveway she saw his car wasn’t there. That wasn’t unusual. He often spent Saturdays checking on his patients, even if he wasn’t on shift.

Grabbing the key from her purse, she let herself in, carefully carrying the dresses down the stairs into the basement. Each one was covered in a protective bag and she hung them on the rack next to her sewing table, before she walked into the bathroom to make sure her hands were thoroughly clean.

These designs were too precious to leave a smudge or stain on them now. Each one perfectly fit to the model’s body, ready to be worn on the night of the show. She tied her hair up and pulled on a pair of soft white gloves, then unzipped the first bag, carefully removing the dress from its hanger.

The rest of her life might be a mess, but at least her business was thriving. It gave her one less thing to worry about.

* * *

They drove in silence back from the cemetery. It had been tough, watching Sara’s parents cry at her grave. Her mother had tried to swallow her sobs, but that almost made it worse. He understood the strangled cry of a parent who’d lost their child, after all.

Alice had left a tiny teddy bear next to Jacob’s grave, nestling it among the other toys that had been left over the years. He’d watched, dry-eyed, as Alice had kissed his son’s headstone, then wiped her own tears away from her cheeks.

It was only the third time they’d visited since his wife and child passed. They’d been here for the funeral, of course, but that was all a blur to James. He could barely remember the day at all. All that was left in his mind were blurred images of people surrounding the dug graves as their caskets were lowered into the ground. He knew he’d thrown in the first handful of earth, but couldn’t conjure up that memory at all.

Most of that first year had been fuzzy. He’d gone back to work after two months, despite the protests of his parents and his boss. But it had been the best thing for him, burying himself in cases and the needs of his patients rather than wallowing in his pain alone at home.

Seeing the rawness of Sara’s family’s pain reminded him of those days. Like a magnet, they pulled him back to the man he used to be. Widower, grieving father, the man who could barely look at himself in the mirror.