“Right.” I braced my hand on the kitchen counter, concentrating on the cool feel of the smooth granite beneath my fingertips and not the swirling vortex of what-the-fuck in my head. “Okay, we need to tell Asher. He’ll know the right lawyers.”
“Anything come to you about who her mom is?” Maxim asked, crossing the kitchen and pulling two bottles of water out. “Want one?” He asked Fiona.
She shook her head since she still had hers from earlier. I’d already killed mine. Did stress cause dehydration?
He tossed one my way, and I cracked it open, draining it halfway down before I spoke. “I remember a silver dress. Brown hair. That’s it. What was I thinking?”
“We were all more than a little trashed that night.” Maxim shook his head. “I don’t remember much past that eighth round of tequila shots, but I know you were alone when I came to get you for brunch.”
“So all we know is her name is Tiffany and she was in Miami with you,” Fiona said slowly.
“It’s not like I make women sign NDAs or keep notches in my bedpost,” I grunted.
“Now that you say it, the NDA isn’t a half-bad idea,” Maxim mused.
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Okay, so finding out who her mom is goes a little lower on the immediate list.” She drummed her fingers on the counter and pursed her lips, her gaze shifting as she obviously thought something over. “She needs a checkup first, and then we need to go shopping. Most of everything in her little suitcase is a size too small, and one pack of diapers is only going to last you a day or so.”
“Doctor. Right.” I fought off the buzzing that threatened to overtake my head. I knew shock from experience, and I wasn’t about to do my daughter any good if I gave into it now.
Daughter.
“I can call my friend Madeline. She’s a pediatrician,” Fiona offered.
“Is she any good?”
Fiona’s eyebrows rose.
“I mean, if she’s not, then I don’t want…” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Fuck it, call your friend.”
“She’s a great pediatrician,” Fiona promised. “And I’d be more worried if you didn’t care if she was good instead of questioning if she is,” she finished softly. “Why don’t you guys get to practice, and I’ll see if she can fit us in this afternoon?”
I nodded. “I would appreciate it.” Panic washed over me. “Wait, should I be going to practice? It’s just a pick-up game.”
“Trust me, a little time doing what you love will help you clear your head,” Fiona suggested. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“I bet Mia would love to help shop,” Maxim offered. His baby sister was the only person in the world he went soft for. “Evie, too.” Mia and her best friend, Evie, were pretty much attached at the hip.
“Yeah, that would be great. Tell them to buy whatever they want.” My eyes snapped up to meet his. “But all the reviews on it have to be the best.” Shit, she needed the best everything if she was going to be balanced out with having me as a dad.
“Sounds like a plan. Now let’s get you on the ice before your head explodes.”
“Twelve pounds, eight ounces,” the nurse said as Skye squirmed on the basket-looking scale later that afternoon.
“Is that okay?” I picked up Skye and took the blanket Fiona offered so I could wrap her up. Was it just me, or was it way too fucking cold in this exam room for a baby to get stripped down?
And what the ever-loving-fuck was with the six-foot-tall mural of Donald Duck on the wall? Shit was terrifying, and I was a grown man.
“Absolutely,” the nurse answered with a smile, entering numbers into the portable computer station. “She’s actually just a little under the fiftieth percentile mark, both in height and weight, so I’d say she’s doing just fine.”
Relief swept through me, taking some of the tension out of my shoulders. She wasn’t underweight. Wasn’t malnourished or neglected. Fine had never sounded so good.
“Let’s get a little family history, shall we?” the nurse asked, and I answered everything I could think of, which wasn’t much.
“You don’t know?” The nurse’s brow furrowed when she brought up cancer.
I shrugged. “Didn’t know my grandparents, and my parents died when I was in first grade. They didn’t exactly get a lot of time to develop any cancer. As far as I know, my aunt is healthy as a horse, but I haven’t spoken to her since my eighteenth birthday.”
Fiona’s lips parted and something flashed through her eyes—sadness? I looked away from those blue eyes quickly. Her gaze was palpable—something I felt as I turned toward the nurse. Maybe it was her degree in psychology, but man, those eyes of hers saw too much and asked questions I didn’t have answers for.
“That’s okay,” the nurse said with a look that had a little too much pity in it for my liking. “What about you, Mom?”
Wait. What?
Fiona and I looked at each other with an equal amount of confusion.
“Mom?” the nurse asked again, staring at Fiona.
“Oh, no, I’m not—”
“She’s not her mother.” We answered at the same time.
The nurse blinked once, twice, and then shook her head. “Oh, I’m so sorry. It’s just that their eyes look so much alike.”
Fiona’s cheeks pinkened slightly. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I’m just the nanny.”
I glanced back and forth between Skye and Fiona. Huh. Their eyes were pretty similar, but Fiona’s had more of that light, aqua color, while Skye’s looked just like what she was named after. With their dark hair and eyes, they could pass for mother and daughter.
Did Tiffany have the same color eyes? Shit, why couldn’t I remember anything?
There were two brief knocks on the door, and the doctor walked in, immediately scanning the room and grinning at Fiona. “Hi there! I’ve been looking forward to this appointment all day.” She looked to be in her late twenties—about my age—which made sense since she was Fiona’s friend. Her hair was up in a no-nonsense blonde twist, but she had friendly energy about her.
“Hey, Madeline!” Fiona gave her friend a quick hug. “Thank you so much for working us in. Means the world to me.”
“Not a problem.” The doctor turned to me. “I’m guessing you must be Brogan Grant.”
“Are you old enough to be a pediatrician?” It just kind of came out.
She laughed and pointed to her name badge. “The hospital thinks so. This one,” she nodded toward Fiona, “is a doctor, too. She just refuses to practice.”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “I just haven’t found anywhere I want to commit to,” she corrected her friend. “And that’s working out for me just fine right now, isn’t it, Skye?” Fiona grazed the back of her finger down Skye’s chubby cheek.
“Well, let’s get this little gal looked at,” Madeline reached for Skye and I hesitated for just a second, glancing down at the name badge to verify that—yep—she was a doctor.
Madeline—Dr. Ross—took Skye and put her on the exam table, and then started firing questions at me as she examined her.