“Got it.”
“I’ll have it soon,” I told the doctor.
A nurse came up to us and spoke quietly to the doctor before turning to me. “Would you like to see your son?”
“Yes.”
Tonya and Christopher approached us. “Doctor, we’d like to have an update on our daugh
ter.”
“Ms. Wade is in recovery and doing well. No visitors at this time.”
The relief that should have been there on their faces was missing. They were cold, stoic. Tonya asked, “Our grandson? When can we see him?”
“Never,” I chimed in.
They looked affronted. “That is Sawyer’s baby.”
“And mine. The answer is no.” I’d had enough of their shit. I would get my injunction and have them escorted out of the building. And I needed to go see my son before I did something rash. I pointed at Steve as I passed him. “Waldo is getting an injunction. I don’t care what you have to do. They do not see Sawyer.”
“Yes, sir.”
Knoah walked in with Garrick right before I reached the door. She ran to me and threw her arms around me. “How is she? Dylan?”
I stopped. “Sawyer’s out of surgery. Tonya and Christopher are here trying to take power of attorney if anything needs to happen. My lawyers are on it. I need to go see Dylan. Dustin is still in surgery. I haven’t gotten an update from the vet on George in the last ten minutes.”
Garrick put his hand on my shoulder. “I won’t let them get back there. And I’ll get updates on everything and get them straight to you.”
“Thank you.” One thing for certain, Garrick had proven to be a man of his word.
I followed the doctor down the hallway. “Would you like to be in the room where Ms. Wade will go after recovery?”
“Yes.”
The doctor showed me to a room that looked like any other hospital room. Sterile and unfriendly as fuck. “The nurse will bring the baby shortly.”
I resumed my pacing, checking my phone every few minutes.
A text from Garrick slowed my pacing.
Garrick: With your permission, I’m going to send Waldo the name of a judge I know to get the injunction expedited.
Me: Whatever it takes.
Garrick: Understood.
A nurse walked into the room rolling a cart in front of her. Dylan. I stopped pacing, unable to take my eyes off him.
“Mr. Hendrix, I’m Brianna. I have someone who wants to meet you.”
A little bundle swaddled in blue moved inside the bassinet on top of the cart. My heart stopped as I stared at this little being—our baby. Dylan. Holy shit.
“May I check your bracelet? I need to make sure your name matches what’s on Dylan’s.”
I held out my arm in a dreamlike state and waited for the nurse to check. “Perfect. Do you know how to hold a baby?”
What am I supposed to do? We did that one birthing class. One. How the fuck was that adequate with a plastic baby?