Chapter 8

Christian

Long after Hailey has disappeared into her room for the night, my hands remain fisted, tension coiling in my chest. I don’t understand what’s happening, why I feel this way.

It’s not guilt exactly… But she almost has me convinced I missed something by not being here this weekend. Maybe I should be spending more time with Addison, and maybe I— Dammit, maybe I should have been here when she needed time off. I don’t like how that makes me feel. It’s like I’m losing control of something, and I’m not even sure what it is.

Of course, she’s attractive, and I can’t deny that as part of my issue, but I have more self-restraint than that. I guess I just resent that the situation requires it. I’m not that guy. I don’t lose control. Not over this. Not over her. But every time I hear her voice, every time she looks at me with those eyes, it gets harder to hold back.

I lounge on the couch and make sure the baby monitor is on. It’s been a hell of a week—scalpels and sutures I’ve placed weigh heavy on my mind. I lost a patient in surgery on Friday, which still gnaws at me, though I’ve been down that road before. I’m a doctor. Saving lives is woven into the fabric of my being. But sometimes, the burden of those I can’t save feels almost suffocating.

And that gets me right back where I started. I know Hailey’s upset. She thinks I’m running from responsibilities, and maybe from her. But this work, it’s not just a job. It defines me. And I’m damn good at it. Just sometimes not good enough.

I remind myself that I’d earned the break this weekend. I have to stay sharp for work. Anyway, with the erratic hours I keep, sleep is more of an acquaintance than a friend, so I should make the most of this evening at home. There’s something serene about the stillness of the house at night, quiet moments when I can set aside the weight of being a cardiac surgeon.

Only when I set that weight aside now, my thoughts turn yet again to Hailey. I want to touch her. I want to feel her skin under my hands, to pull her close and breathe her in. But I can’t. I won’t. Hailey is here for Addison, and that’s essential. Anything else… It’s dangerous. I’m already too close to the edge. One wrong move, and I’ll ruin everything.

My stomach reminds me of its neglected state with a low grumble. In the kitchen, Hailey’s culinary peace offering waits for me—sausage and peppers baked with pasta. I take a bite, appreciating the way the tangy tomato sauce complements the savory sausage, the peppers adding just the right amount of bite. It’s fantastic. Even cold, the flavors meld together perfectly, comfort in a dish.

Perhaps she made this to show me what I miss when I’m gone too long. Or perhaps I’m overthinking it. Maybe there were just leftovers, and she’s a thoughtful person. Regardless, these small acts are a pattern of care and domesticity that I’m still learning to navigate. Maybe that’s what’s gotten under my skin.

I should have told her why I slept on my boat Friday night and left at sunrise with my friends. She might have understood the need to be away. I’m just not used to sharing my choices and reasoning with anyone. I shouldn’t have to.

I take my meal to my room and flip the pages of the latest Michael Connelly thriller that’s been collecting dust on my nightstand. As much as I try to lose myself in the fictional drama of Harry Bosch, the weight of Friday’s loss still presses against my chest. Sailing to Victoria with Griffin and Tori this weekend was a respite for a time, but nothing has really changed.

The ping of my phone cuts through the quiet. I glance at the screen—a saucy email from one of the nurses who occasionally enjoys blurring the lines between professional and personal. It’s flirty, teetering on inappropriate, but it’s also familiar territory. A diversion. I’m about to craft a witty reply when a sound from the baby monitor snatches my attention.

Heavy breathing, uneven and ragged. My heart kicks up a notch. Addison . I toss the book aside, adrenaline flooding my system as if I’m back in the OR. In moments, I’m down the hall at her door, pushing it open with a surge of protective urgency.

“Addison?” My voice is tight as I scan her crib, expecting the worst. But she’s there, peaceful in slumber, utterly relaxed.

Confusion knots my brow. The noise… It’s still coming through the monitor. An unmistakable moan follows, and realization dawns. It’s not Addison. It’s Hailey. She must have accidentally nudged the microphone in the bathroom.

I should give her privacy, but instead, I find myself rooted to the spot, listening. The sounds sketch an intimate picture, and despite my better judgment, I imagine what she’s doing in there. The curve of her neck, the tilt of her head, the fall of water over her skin…

“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, a mixture of self-reproach and unwanted arousal. I return to my room, but the sound follows me over the monitor. This isn’t me—I’m not the voyeuristic type—but Hailey is unraveling the threads of my self-control.

With a deep breath, I force myself to turn off the monitor, though the echo of her moans lingers in my ears like a siren’s call. I refuse to answer. She’s not actually calling me anyway.

I pace the length of my bedroom, my mind a restless sea of churning thoughts. Last week, I kept my hands steady as I performed an aneurysm repair. I do those often enough that my mind occasionally wanders, and that day, images of Hailey kept flashing through my mind—her laughter, the warmth of her smile. Why does she command my attention this way? I’ve had so many nannies and never had a problem before. My distraction could have been catastrophic.

“Get a grip,” I chastise myself, raking a hand through my hair. The answer seems obvious. She needs to go. It’s the only way to regain the balance I’ve lost. Hailey is replaceable. There are dozens of services dedicated to nannies. I just need to contact a new one.

But then there’s Addison. Hailey is more than her nanny, or at the very least, she’s a better nanny than any of the others were. She’s nurturing and patient, like a mother would be. Addison has lost so much already. How can I justify taking something else away from my little girl?

I squeeze my eyes closed. The solution isn’t to push Hailey out. It’s for me to wall up my feelings. Cold turkey. Stop this madness before I do something stupid.

But then I flip the monitor back on—for safety, I tell myself—and my resolve crumbles as I hear her again. She’s breathing in soft, airy moans that shouldn’t be for my ears. Yet here I am, dick in hand, hot and hard as I succumb to an urge far stronger than my willpower. I stroke myself, each pull a silent plea for release, yet I hold back, timing my pleasure with hers. The knowledge that she’s so close, yet untouchable, tears at me. I’m furious for being weak and, suddenly, for being a bastard to her. I know that’s the truth.

But even as regret consumes me, my hunger doesn’t wane. I groan low, a sound swallowed by the darkness of my room, and we find our release together, separated by walls but united in this secret act.

Not long after, exhaustion claims me, pulling me under. I fall into a fitful sleep, haunted by her image and my desire for her. I’m desperate, and I hate myself for that, all the more because I don’t understand it in the least.

Sometime later, I wake to the unfamiliar sensation of a full night’s rest, a luxury so rare it feels alien. The baby monitor is silent, its small green light steady. Addison must have slept through the night. I tiptoe to her room. A quiet relief eases through me as I push open the door and see her in her crib, but it’s quickly overtaken by my reaction to what I find as I scan the room.

Hailey stands in the soft morning light, wearing sleep shorts and a tank top. Her hair, a chaotic tumble of chestnut waves, is piled high on her head, a few strands framing her face. She’s looking down at Addison, and it’s an intimate, unguarded moment that tugs at something primal within me. Love for my daughter, yes, but something intensely protective of her caregiver as well. I want to weave my fingers through Hailey’s messy locks, pull her close, and hear those breathy moans from last night, this time for my ears alone.

Silently, I withdraw and pad across the cool hardwood floor to the kitchen. The action is mechanical, a distraction from the turmoil churning inside me. Breakfast—a futile attempt to regain some semblance of normalcy. But even as I crack eggs into the sizzling pan, my mind isn’t on the task. It’s on Hailey.

The soft patter of her footsteps announces her approach before she rounds the corner into the kitchen with Addison. My chest tightens as I watch them, a reminder of what I’ve been trying to ignore.

“Are you going to be around for a while?” Hailey’s voice is casual, and she’s likely assessing my mood.

“What are you planning on doing?” The demand leaves my lips sharply, my grip tightening on the spatula.

She pauses. “Just wanted to go for a quick run if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” I manage, though nothing feels sure at all. Not anymore.

She nods and offers me Addison. This takes me by surprise, though I suppose it shouldn’t. Our hands graze as I take her, and it’s electric. I wonder if she felt it too.

“I cut some strawberries, and they’re in the fridge. You can also give her Cheerios.” Hailey disappears down the hall to her room, and I force myself to look away, jaw clenched. Hailey is supposed to be here for Addison, not…me. But damn it, every time I see her, it’s like something in me shifts. I want to please her, to get along. To work together toward a common goal. There’s this low hum under my skin, growing louder, harder to ignore. She makes everything seem lighter. Easier.

I put Addison in her highchair and turn off the stove, the eggs forgotten and overcooked. I lean heavily against the counter, my hands bracing the edge. I’m out of control. This is not like me.

I hear the door open and close. Hailey’s gone for her run, leaving me with Addison. I don’t know what to do with her. I spread too many Cheerios on the tray of the highchair, and she reaches for them eagerly, chasing them around the tray.

The minutes crawl by. Hailey said something about strawberries, so I find the small container in the fridge and add them on the tray in front of Addison. She just looks at them. I pick up a piece and put it in her mouth. After a moment, she breaks into a smile. I feed her one piece at a time, and she happily enjoys them.

Forty minutes is beginning to feel like an eternity, and then an eyelash-curling smell wafts from Addison. She giggles. Oh no . I can’t. Thankfully, just then I hear the front door open and close, heralding Hailey’s return. My attention moves to the entryway as she steps into the kitchen. She looks different somehow—more alive. Her skin glistens with the sheen of exertion, and her cheeks are flushed with the morning chill outside.

Wordlessly, she moves to the sink and fills a glass with water, downing it in swift gulps before refilling it for a second round. Her silence is loud and clear. I’ve screwed up, and she’s not ready to forget it. My throat tightens with a cocktail of frustration and guilt.

“I smell the need for a diaper change,” she says as she eyes me.

I nod. “It happened just before you walked in.”

She scoops Addison from her highchair. “Did you like your strawberries? I think you have more on your face than in your belly.”

Addison giggles, and they disappear.

I should feel like an ass for making Hailey change the diaper. And I don’t not feel like an ass… But I’m a doctor, and I’m not sure there’s anything worse than what came out of my child.

It doesn’t take long before Hailey is back with Addison in her arms, all clean and smelling fresh. She heads for the living room where the toys are.

“What’s on the agenda for you and Addison today?” I ask.

She turns to face me. The air between us charges. “We’re planning to walk around VanDusen Gardens. They have an orchid exhibit, and I love orchids. I want to take advantage of the dry weather while we can.”

Suddenly, her plan strikes me as perfect. Perhaps it would even be a respite from the turmoil inside me. I hesitate, then decide to take the leap. “Can I join you?”

She keeps her expression carefully neutral, guarded. But after a moment she nods, offering a tentative smile. “Sure. Addison would like that.”

My chest eases with something akin to relief, though the underlying current of tension remains.

After she takes a quick shower, we pile into the minivan, and I drive us across town to the gardens.

“This thing is terrible.” I navigate through the city streets with Addison babbling in her car seat. The vehicle is clunky, its engine groans, and it lacks the visceral thrill and power of my Porsche. I bought this car for safety, but now I wonder if it’s safe at all.

“Maybe it’s time for you to trade in speed for space,” Hailey teases, casting a sidelong glance my way.

I suspect she’s enjoying my discomfort. “Never thought I’d be the one driving this vehicle,” I mutter.

She shakes her head, and I realize how ridiculous that sounds. But it’s true. I don’t have a long-term parenting strategy. I just need to get by, keep my daughter safe and happy, and keep my life functioning.

We pull up at VanDusen Gardens as the morning dew begins to lift, ushering in the warmth of the sun. I park the minivan and practically leap out, stretching my limbs before heading straight to the bistro. “Need coffee,” I grumble. “You want anything?” I ask over my shoulder.

“Hot chocolate, please,” Hailey responds, her voice soft but without the chill from earlier.

The queue at the bistro is short, just early birds so far, and I order a double shot of espresso for myself and a hot chocolate for Hailey. We take our beverages to go, stepping out into the fresh air, laden with floral scents.

As we wander along the winding paths, Addison coos from her stroller, and I find myself unwinding with each step. The flowers are a riot of colors.

“Tell me about your family,” I say, trying to make this experience feel more normal with conversation.

She shrugs. “I’m an only child, and I was raised by my grandmother. She died a little over two years ago. What about you?”

“My parents divorced when I was very young. I grew up with my mother and grandfather, and my father… Well, he’s more like a buddy, I guess. He’s busy with his new family—Dana’s family.”

“Seems we’re both a little untethered,” she remarks. There’s no sadness in her tone, just acceptance.

“Untethered,” I repeat, tasting the word. It feels right, fitting for this moment, for us. For me lately, that’s for sure.

We wander for a while, and as lunchtime approaches, my stomach growls. “What’s your plan for lunch?”

“I brought a bottle for Addison, and I usually just wait and grab something back at the house.”

“Any interest in one of the box lunches from the bistro?”

She looks over at the Welcome Center and then back at me. “Sure. Why not? I have a blanket we use for tummy time, and then we can feed Addison before her nap.”

She requests a roast beef and cheddar sandwich box and a sparkling water, and I head off to pick up our lunch.

I watch her from the bistro’s line. She and Addison are all smiles. They find a nice spot next to the pond, and Addison sits on Hailey’s lap while she’s doused in sunscreen, followed by a hat and baby sunglasses. Hailey sets her on the blanket and takes her picture. My heart swells—with what, I’m not sure. But I owe Dana for Hailey. None of the other nannies were nearly as good for Addison. I have to keep that at the forefront of my mind. Certain parts of me really seem to think she could be good for me too, but she is in no way meant to be my plaything.

When I finally have our order, I make my way back. “Sorry that took so long,” I apologize.

“That’s okay. Addison likes watching the ducks on the pond.”

I settle on the blanket, feeling the softness of the grass beneath it. Hailey gently sets Addison down on her tummy, and her face scrunches up in protest before she bravely pushes herself up with tiny arms.

“I got to know your dad through Dana,” Hailey says as she opens her lunch. “They would come over to campus and take us out for dinner, and they often included my grandma. It’s great that you’re friends with your dad.”

I look down at Addison. “I don’t know that we’re really friends. They have me over for dinner a few times a year. And he calls and checks when he hasn’t heard from me.” I shrug and take out my sandwich.

“That sounds like a friend. That’s what Dana and I do. Except we go out a little more often, and we each buy our own meals.”

I busy myself with my lunch and keep my distance from Addison. It’s strange to spend this much time around her. Should I pick her up? Should I be doing something? I don’t know.

“What did your parents say when Addison arrived?” Hailey asks.

“She was dropped on my doorstep when she was about six months old. My mom said to hire a nanny, and my dad said they would help out.”

“Have you asked him for help?”

“No,” I admit, watching Addison’s determined movements. “I haven’t needed his help.”

“What about Dana?” Hailey turns to me now, curiosity on her features. “How’s your relationship with her?”

“Better…closer these past few years. We’re definitely more like brother and sister.” It feels odd to talk about Dana this way, but what I say is true. “When she needs advice or help with something, she calls.”

“And you do the same with her?” she presses.

“Not really.”

Hailey looks at me over her sunglasses. “Why not? How did I end up here?”

I look away. She’s right. And why is that so awkward? “Yes, she was my lifesaver when my last nanny walked out.”

Hailey nods and returns her attention to Addison. “You’re doing great, sweetie.” Addison grunts with effort and finally rolls onto her back. “Soon you’ll be sitting up by yourself, and then crawling.”

“Who told you that?” I ask, a touch of skepticism in my voice. I’m not doubting her, but I want to understand where she’s getting this information.

“From a book.” Hailey’s gaze doesn’t waver from Addison. “On developmental milestones for children with Down syndrome. According to what I’ve read, she’s right on track.”

“Right on track,” I repeat softly, the phrase bringing an unexpected comfort. A surge of pride swells within me. I’m providing for her. I’m doing this. Maybe we’re both learning, both growing, in ways I didn’t expect.

We finish our lunches, and for some reason, I tell Hailey about losing my patient on Friday. “I knew the repair was going to be tough. An aortic aneurysm is a bulge in the wall of the body’s main artery.”

Hailey listens, and when Addison fusses, she pulls her into her lap and feeds her a bottle.

“This one was fairly large, but women’s heart problems present differently,” I explain. “The patient showed up at the emergency department having trouble breathing. They treated her for asthma and sent her home. It got worse, so she came back, and they ran a CT. She didn’t have any heart pain, but the bulge was as big as my thumb.” I shake my head, still remembering my shock when I saw her images. “We rushed her in for surgery, and I hoped we’d gotten to it in time, but we didn’t.”

Hailey shakes her head. “I couldn’t do what you do.”

“I love it.” I pick some grass and let it blow in the breeze. “I love saving lives. I make a difference.”

“I understand that. I’m thinking I might get my real estate license,” Hailey says after a moment. “I can make a difference by helping families find a home to buy.”

An alarm sounds in my head. “When are you going to do that? I thought you were staying for a year?”

She looks at me strangely. “I am. But after Dana and I explore Europe for a while, I need to come back and get a real job.”

Addison has finished her bottle and is drifting toward sleep. I watch as Hailey makes quick work of her diaper and tucks her into her car seat. She’s good at this.

We collect our things and walk back to the minivan. “Would you like me to drive?” she offers.

“No. I’ve got it.”

“It’s not the horsepower you’re used to.”

I narrow my eyes. This hunk of metal isn’t even close to what I drive. But I can see she’s making fun of me. “That’s okay.”

I navigate back to my townhouse and pull into the garage.

Hailey’s already unfastening Addison from her car seat, cooing gently to calm any stirrings of discontent. “Let’s get you down in your crib,” she whispers to Addison, her voice soothing, and Addison’s eyes slide closed again.

I watch them, noting the ease with which Hailey manages my daughter. It leaves me feeling strangely adrift. “I’m going to catch up with some friends,” I announce, more to fill the silence than anything else. The truth is, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve never spent this much time with Addison, but being alone with Hailey seems even more daunting. It’s like standing on a precipice, knowing I’m going to fall. The only way I know how to resist is to leave.

“This was fun,” Hailey says suddenly, turning to face me as she heads down the hall, her expression apologetic. “Sorry for all the chatter… I’m used to talking to Addison all day.”

“No need to apologize.” My words are genuine. “I enjoyed it.”

She smiles, and it’s disarming.

“Let me know when she talks back,” I tell her, the idea bringing a grin to my face. I imagine Addison’s voice, the things she might say, and it’s a future I look forward to.

“Will do,” Hailey promises, continuing down the hall to Addison’s crib.

I head back out, to the Porsche this time, the sleek lines of the car promising a different kind of journey than the minivan. I let the road take me, each turn distancing me from the house, from Hailey, and from the confusing emotions swirling inside me.

But despite my attempts at detachment, my mind replays the day—the laughter, the wonder of Addison, the shared conversation with Hailey. It was a great outing, a day filled with unexpected joys and simple pleasures.

I’m surprised to admit it, but I enjoyed myself—in a way I haven’t for a very long time.