Chapter 11

Close to hyperventilating, I hurry back inside the house and check every room like a madwoman. Calling out Marley’s name at the top of my lungs until my voice is hoarse. Marley and my baby are nowhere to be found.

My mind in a frenzy, I speed-dial Ned. His phone rings, then goes to his voicemail. I leave a message, the words coming out a mile a minute. “Ned, call me as soon as you get this message! It’s urgent!” I end the call and try his office. His secretary, Hilda, picks up on the second ring, yet it feels like an eternity.

“Mr. Sinclair’s office,” she answers, her voice clipped.

“Hilda, it’s me…Ava. I need to speak to Ned right away.” The panic in my voice has multiplied.

“I’m sorry, Ava, he’s in an important outside meeting and asked not to be disturbed under any circumstances.” The tone of her voice is cold and sharp. She guards Ned like a barbed-wire fence. For whatever reason, the matronly, tight-lipped woman has never cared for me.

“But this is urgent!” The frantic words tumble out.

“I’m sorry…maybe I can help you?”

“It’s an emergency! He needs to come home right away.”

“I’ll let him know.” Then, “I have another call coming in. I need to put you on hold…”

I hear her put me on hold. An insipid song from one of IMAGE’s clients filters into my ear until I can’t take it anymore. My hands trembling, my pulse pounding, I hang up.

I have no choice. I need to call the police. My baby’s life is at stake.

My finger quivering, I start to dial 911 when the front door bursts open, almost knocking me flat against the wall.

“Ava, I’m sorry,” comes the apologetic voice of Nurse Marley, as she wheels Isa’s stroller over the threshold and closes the door behind her. She’s wearing her uniform and an oversized navy cardigan sweater. “I didn’t know you were there. Are you okay?”

No, I’m not okay.

“I—I’m fine,” I manage, my heart still racing in my chest.

Marley glances down at my nightgown. “Oh my goodness. You’re bleeding!”

“It’s nothing,” I say, my voice shaky. I don’t want to admit how panicked I’ve been. “I scratched at my incision—it was itchy—and it started to bleed, but I think it’s stopped.” I look down. The scarlet patch of blood is small and hasn’t spread.

“You should let me take a look at it.”

“No, really, it’s fine. I think it’s healing.” With a sharp intake of breath, I regain my composure. Fear and shock give way to an overwhelming sense of relief. My baby is alive and well, sound asleep in her stroller, swathed in her pink cashmere blanket.

My voice grows stronger, anger creeping into it. “Marley, what are you still doing here and where have you been?”

She gazes down at Isa and smiles lovingly. “It was just so hard to leave her with you sound asleep so I took her for a walk outside.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to wake you. You need your rest.”

“Why didn’t you leave me a note?”

“I did. I left it by the coffee maker in the kitchen. I was sure you’d see it when you woke up.”

I swallow back my embarrassment. “Oh… I guess I missed it.”

She pushes the stroller further into the house. She gazes up at me. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look like?—”

Yup, a madwoman. I cut her off. “I totally freaked out…I thought you had kid?—”

With a laugh, she cuts me off, thankfully preventing me from finishing my ridiculous accusation.

“Sweetie, a lot of new mothers are paranoid and think something terrible will happen to their baby. Just know, the chances of your baby being kidnapped in your house are one in three hundred thousand. It’s way more likely for the two of you to be hit by a car.”

And what if she and Isa had been hit by a car during their walk? People in LA, especially during rush hour morning traffic, are insane drivers. I push that frightening thought away and ask where they went.

“Oh, we just took a short walk down the hill to Sunset and back up. It’s good for the baby to get a little fresh air every day.”

“Even one who’s less than a week old?”

“Totally.”

My shoulders sag. “It’ll be a while before I can do that.” The truth is I can still barely manage getting up and down from the toilet. Even walking through our one-level, open-plan house is an effort, although today I feel stronger, maybe because I’m well rested.

Nurse Marley wheels the stroller past me in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m going to make Isa a bottle.”

I follow her, walking alongside her, and keep my gaze on my sleeping baby. Cocooned in her pink cashmere blanket, I can’t help but marvel at what a little beauty she is with her button nose, cupid-bow lips, and rosy cheeks.

“How was she during the night?”

“She was wonderful. Took to her crib like a trooper. She got up every three hours for a feeding and I changed her diaper a few times. I think the formula is really helping.”

“I’m so pleased to hear that.” To my amazement, Nurse Marley looks well rested. Aglow. “Did you manage to get some sleep?”

She shrugs off her sweater and folds it over the stroller handle. “I actually got in a few hours of sleep. Mia woke up at six and I fed her.”

Mia?

With a laugh, she quickly corrects herself. “I mean Isa. Mia was the name of my last charge. I’ve taken care of so many babies I sometimes confuse their names.”

“No apology needed. I can’t remember my own name lately.”

“The stress and demands of new motherhood can do that to you.” With a swan-like movement of her neck, she checks on Isa, who’s stirring in her stroller. “She’ll likely wake up shortly and be hungry again.”

Nurse Marley seems one step ahead of my baby’s needs. I, in contrast, seem several steps behind. Make that a long city block behind.

She deposits the stroller by the kitchen island and waltzes over to one of the cabinets where we store pots and pans. Bending, she opens it and pulls out the missing bottle sterilizer as well as the warmer. She places them on the counter where they were before…next to the Nespresso machine.

From where I’m standing, I eye the note she left me by the sleek coffee maker. “Why didn’t you leave those things where they were?”

“Your husband asked me to put them away when I wasn’t using them. He told me he thinks they’re ugly and take up too much space.”

Ned, the minimalist. The perfectionist. Everything in its place. My mind jumps ahead nine months. What are we going to do when Isa starts to crawl and grows active? Where are we going to put all those things his clients and employees sent us—that are now, to Ned’s dismay, taking up so much space in my garage as well as one of his. The one he needs for the Aston Martin he has on hold. We don’t have a playroom or a basement. The latter I’m glad about because for some reason dark basements freak me out. They always have. In the past, I’ve avoided taking on projects that required me to transform one into a functional space.

There’s one possibility—the billiards room behind the stone fireplace—but that’s going nowhere. And my husband would sooner transform the two-car garage where I park my car into a home theater than a play space for Isa.

The bottom line: Ned’s going to hate having his sleek living room littered with bright-colored playpens, activity mats, push toys, and more. Maybe it’ll be an incentive for him to let me look for another more family-friendly home. Like the one he grew up in.

Marley retrieves a prepared bottle of formula from the fridge, then puts it into the warmer and sets the timer. She turns to me. “Hey, I’m going to make some coffee. Want some?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“How do you like it?”

“With almond milk, but I’m afraid there’s none in the fridge. So, I guess I’ll drink it black.”

“I usually start my day with a fresh fruit smoothie, but guess I’ll settle for some coffee too. I’ll be sure to pick up some of that milk later today along with some much-needed healthy stuff. It’s essential for your recovery to eat things that are rich in vitamins, minerals, and antitoxins.”

Lowering myself onto one of the island stools, I give a weak but grateful smile. “That would be awesome. Thanks.”

Everything comes together at once and Marley manages to bring Isa’s heated bottle along with two mugs of coffee to the kitchen island. As she sets them down on the granite counter, Isa awakens and screams at the top of her lungs.

The stroller beside me, my first instinct is to take her into my arms. But already standing, Marley beats me to it.

Removing Isa from her swaddle, she expertly lifts my baby from the stroller and holds her in her arms.

“See, I knew she would wake up and be hungry.” She gently rocks her. “Ava, would you be kind enough to hand me her bottle.”

I do as she asks. After adjusting Isa in the crook of her right arm, she puts the bottle to Isa’s mouth with her free hand. My baby instantly latches on to the nipple and quiets.

“Good girl,” Marley coos as Isa sucks away.

“Nurse Marley, can I feed her?” Though I feel emboldened, the tone of my voice sounds timid.

Without looking up at me, her gaze fixed on Isa, she breathes out, “Ava, please just relax…Drink your coffee. This is what you and Ned pay me to do.”

I feel a tinge of hurt. Her words make me feel useless and incompetent.

She stays focused on Isa. “You need to let me take charge…learn to trust me.”

But how can I trust her when I can’t even trust myself?

As I sip my coffee and watch Marley feed Isa, I hear a car pull up in front of our house. It doesn’t sound like one of Ned’s fancy sports cars. Could my mother be here early?

My chest tightens at that thought when I hear the front door unlock. The door slams shut, and heavy footsteps crescendo in my ears. Then a thunderous voice.

“Ava, what’s going on? What’s the emergency?”

Ned.

His words heat up the air. They’re like red-hot embers.

“Hilda reached me at the Chateau Marmont. I was in the middle of an important meeting with our potential investors.” He looks angry. Very angry.

I meet his narrowed eyes. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone when I called?”

“I didn’t hear it ring. It was on vibrate in my briefcase. When Hilda couldn’t reach me, she called the hotel and asked to speak to the ma?tre d’.”

Why didn’t I think of doing that?

Loosening his tie, Ned tosses his briefcase onto the gleaming island counter. “When I couldn’t reach you, I dashed out of the hotel and grabbed a cab instead of waiting for the valet. I thought the house was on fire.”

My heart hiccups. Did he actually think something happened to me? To our baby? Or was he only concerned about his precious house?

His eyes bore into mine, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “So, what exactly was the ‘emergency’?” He carves out air quotes, then tightly folds his arms across his broad chest awaiting an explanation.

“I—I thought someone kidnapped Isa.”

“What?!” He throws his arms up and his voice rises decibels with fury. “How could someone kidnap her? The road to our house is private. Our house is gated. And we have a state-of-the-art security system.”

Tears gather behind my eyes. He must think I’m paranoid. Delusional. A nutjob. Am I? In my fragile state, it takes all I have to hold back the waterworks.

Nurse Marley looks up from feeding Isa and chimes in. “I can explain.”

Ned’s gaze meets hers and his expression softens as she elaborates.

“I took Isa for a walk down the hill in her stroller. I left a note by the coffee maker, but I’m afraid Ava didn’t see it.”

Ned strides toward the Nespresso machine and picks up the note. “Ava, how could you have missed it?”

Hot tears prick my eyes. My voice falters. “I was in a panic. When I didn’t see Nurse Marley or Isa in the nursery—and with Isa’s stroller gone—I hurried outside, and they weren’t there either. Plus, Marley’s car was gone. So was her bag. And she didn’t answer her phone.”

Ned shakes his head in disbelief. “Seriously, how could you jump to such a ridiculous conclusion?”

Nurse Marley chimes in again. “Mr. Sinclair, it’s partly my fault. I accidentally had my phone turned off. Ava was sound asleep when I left for the walk. I was only gone for fifteen minutes. I was sure she’d still be sleeping when I returned.”

Fifteen minutes of pure hell. The most frightening since my life-and-death cesarean.

Marley continues. “I should add that I stored the bag in a guest closet and I Ubered here yesterday. My car’s in the shop.”

Ned looks at me dead in the eye, his face hardening like a fist. “You may have cost me the Japanese deal.”

My cheeks burn like I’ve been slapped in the face. I can no longer hold back my tears. They stream down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Ned.”

A pang of remorse slices through me. I clutch my stomach and flee, leaving my husband alone with Nurse Marley and my baby.