Julianne crouched down in front of the pair, pain etched on her face as another tear slipped from her eye. “Owen,” she said softly. “This is your daddy. He’s come to make you better.”
Will’s heart nearly stopped when, at the sound of her voice, Owen squinted with one blue eye as he worked a hand free of the blanket to give a pump of his right fist, before he worked the hand to his mouth. At that moment, Will knew there would be no more waiting on a paternity test. He prayed his blood would be a compatible match because he’d give this baby every drop of blood in his body to see him survive.
Owen was his son. He’d figure out what to do about Julianne later. For now, getting his baby well was the top priority.
Four
The procedure took less than six hours. Without hesitation, Will neatly rolled up his shirt sleeve and stretched out on a gurney in a sterile room beside the NICU. Casually crossing his ankles, he didn’t even flinch when the nurse inserted a needle into his arm. Restless, Julianne had paced the room while Will stoically watched the blood flow from his body into the collection bag. Twice Julianne attempted to speak to him, but both times he’d held up a large paw to silence her. He’d been doing that all day, much to Julianne’s aggravation.
Not that he didn’t have every right to be angry with her, he did. But Julianne was a talker. The anxiety she felt for Owen made her more chatty than usual. If she could just clear the air with Will rather than be subjected to the silent treatment, she’d feel better. Less guilty. She’d explain everything. Well, maybe not everything. Because if she explained everything, she’d have to say she was sorry. And even though she was very sorry, she wasn’t about to give him more power over her and Owen. Instead, she bit her lip. It was better than staring at the palm of his hand in her face.
When they’d extracted and processed what looked to Julianne like a ridiculously large amount of blood, the nurse brought Owen and his incubator into the room. Unlike his father, the baby was not as easygoing during the transfusion process. Owen howled as Dr. Ling and the nurses poked his tiny arms and feet with needles. Julianne stood to the side, tears streaming down her face, wishing she could somehow absorb her son’s pain. It was only after the procedure was over that she realized Will stood beside her the entire time, his annoyingly patronizing hand rubbing her back as she cried.
All that was left now was the waiting. Dr. Ling had explained that it would take a couple of hours before she knew if Owen’s body would accept the antibodies in Will’s blood, but the doctor was optimistic the procedure would be successful. In nearly all cases, one of the parents’ blood proteins was a match. Julianne felt that familiar stab of pain that her blood hadn’t been good enough to save her child. Once again, she’d had to rely on someone else.
She’d lost all track of actual time. The last shift change was several hours ago, so she assumed it was late evening, although it was hard to tell inside the hospital. Sebastian was at dinner with friends. Carly had left, too. She’d gone home to her new family. The knife twisted in Julianne’s gut again. Owen was supposed to be her family. And if the blood disorder didn’t take him from her, the behemoth pretending to sleep on the sofa would certainly try.
She glanced over at Will stretched out on the love seat, his long legs protruding into the center of the room. Either he was a very heavy sleeper or the champ at playing possum because he hadn’t so much as moved since he’d closed his eyes an hour ago. Both hands lay across his midsection, and his muscled abdomen rose slightly as he breathed. He looked less forbidding with his eyes closed, his long lashes resting against his cheeks. In this state, he seemed almost approachable. More human. When he was awake, Will resembled a Norse god, his intense eyes, square jaw, and massive shoulders intimidating. All that was missing was the horned helmet.
His jacket and tie lay folded neatly on the back of one of the chairs. Childishly, she wanted to walk over and rumple them up to see how he’d react. He’d been annoyingly cool and unflappable all day, in complete control as if he’d come from his Viking ship to rescue her. Except he hadn’t come to save her; he’d come for their son. Given the opportunity, she figured he’d toss her overboard without a backward glance.
Dr. Ling pushed through the curtain, her rubber-soled shoes squeaking on the tile floor. Will’s eyes shot open.
“Good news!” Dr. Ling smiled widely at them both. “Owen’s body is thriving with the new blood cells. In fact, he’s even generating blood proteins of his own already, which tells us he’s going to make a complete recovery.”