When he looks back down, there’s a resolve shining brightly in his eyes. Defeat.
Chase drops on the loveseat and runs his hands through his hair once more. “I don’t remember a lot of the night, but I know I woke up in my hotel room, alone. I was naked, but after a night of drinking, I would often strip and pass out in bed.”
My chest aches for him, for the baby in my arms.
“The next morning, Colton was so fucking hungover. He couldn’t remember much after we had a few shots, and shit, there were a lot of shots. He definitely couldn’t hold his liquor the way he used to. I know there was some dancing, and a couple of blondes who latched on to us early in the night. They seemed to make themselves comfy at our table, but we didn’t mind much, especially Colton. He was anxious to really let loose before he was sent off to some godforsaken country.”
I glance down at the baby boy in my arms, not really sure how to feel about this entire situation. On the one hand, Chase and I just made love after he vowed I was the only one for quite some time. Apparently, quite some time is only about ten months. But on the other hand, when I look at the precious baby in my arms, the one whose mother literally just dropped him off at our doorstep with a stranger (granted, his father, but a stranger nonetheless), and I feel… adoration.
“Chase?” I whisper, causing him to look up from across the room, the panic evident in his gorgeous eyes. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I don’t know what to do.” The words are barely audible, his hands rest on the top of his head and his eyes are wide with fear.
I stand up and walk his way. “You’re going to go get a couple of blankets ready to make a little bed. I’m going to change his diaper and then make a bottle made, since I’m not sure when the last time he ate was. I’ll bring him to you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” I state with a bravado I have no idea where it comes from.
“Don’t leave.” His words a soft plea, his eyes begging as he reaches forward and swipes a strand of messy hair from my forehead.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He doesn’t look convinced, so I add, “I promise. We’ll figure this out. Together.”
Chase seems to visibly release some of the tension he was holding in his shoulders. “Okay, yeah, a bed area, I can do that.”
I nod encouragingly. “We’ll put it in the middle of your bed for now, okay? He can sleep between us.”
I’m rewarded with a boyish grin, one filled with relief and exhaustion. “I like that,” he replies, stepping forward and pulling me into his arms. They wrap loosely around me, careful not to stir the baby, as he places a warm kiss on my forehead. “Thank you.”
“Tomorrow we’ll try to track her down, okay? For tonight, let’s just try to get some sleep. I remember Gwen saying they slept when Sophia slept,” I add, almost absently to myself. I’m making a mental checklist of all the things we need to do, baby items we need to buy.
But we can’t do that right now.
Right now, it’s nearing midnight, and the only thing we can do is try to get some sleep, and hopefully, figure out more about Milo and his mother in the morning. Pushing the thought of Chase and Laura together in St. Louis out of my mind, I set out to gather as much as I can from the diaper bag and prepare for bed. Fortunately, Laura thought to stuff as much as she could get into the bag. Diapers, formula, burp cloths, and outfits. Not enough to last very long, but enough to get us by for a few days without having to go shopping.
I pull out a sleeper and fresh diaper and grab the changing pad. Milo wakes up as I set him down, his blue eyes locking on mine. A smile spreads across my face as we quietly observe each other. His nose is definitely Chase’s, in addition to the eye color and angle of his chin. There’s certainly a resemblance, and that hits me right in the gut. I think somewhere, deep down, I thought maybe, just maybe, Laura was lying.
But I see it.
This baby is a Callahan.
I offer Milo a smile and start pulling apart the snaps between his legs to get to the diaper. The moment I do, a loud wail fills the room, the little baby clearly not happy about changing his pants.
“Shhh, shhhh, shhhhh,” I coo, my fingers working fast to remove the clothes he’s wearing and get to the dirty business at hand.
“What’s wrong?” Chase asks, practically flying down the stairs.