A Perfect Homecoming. Lisa Dyson

eyebrows rose.

      “That’s the truth!” He didn’t know how to convince her. “Just because of that one ki—”

      He shut his mouth when her eyes widened and her lower jaw dropped. So she didn’t know about the kiss. Damn.

      Paula slowly closed her mouth and stared at him. “You two? You kissed? When? Last night? I can’t believe it. Then why did you tell her to go home?”

      He inhaled slowly, not sure how much to admit. “Yes, last night, but it meant nothing.” At least nothing to Ashleigh.

      “You idiot!” Paula slapped her hand on the blanket next to her.

      “Hey!” He already knew he was an idiot. He didn’t need Paula reminding him. “Look, we’re divorced and we’ve both moved on. I’m even pretty sure she’s seeing someone.”

      Paula scowled at him.

      “You know you look like Mrs. Buffington when you make that face,” he told her, referring to the strictest teacher they’d all endured back in their elementary school days.

      She glared at Kyle. “Stop trying to change the subject.”

      He cleared his throat. “I need to get back to the hospital.”

      She waved a hand at him. “Go ahead. Ignore the truth.”

      “Did you ever think that maybe you’re wrong?”

      She shook her head vigorously. “Nope.” She raised a finger. “Oh! And don’t forget to come back for dinner tonight.”

      “I didn’t know I was invited.”

      She narrowed her eyes. “It’s the least you owe me for the latest trouble you’ve caused between Ashleigh and me. You’ll be our buffer.”

      Kyle considered it. “All right.” He turned to leave. “I’ll see you later then.” Over his shoulder, he added, “Behave yourself.”

      “No fun in that!” she yelled with a laugh as he went out the front door shaking his head.

      If only Paula weren’t so close to being right about so many things. Even when he and Ashleigh were in the middle of splitting up, it was Paula who kept telling him their divorce was too civil. No fighting, no screaming, no knock-down-drag-outs.

      Not until their divorce became final and Ashleigh had run away had Kyle realized how right Paula had been. Maybe if he and Ashleigh had gotten out some of their anger two years ago, they wouldn’t be as combative now.

      He started his truck and shoved the gearshift into Drive. Paula couldn’t be right. No way did he have feelings for Ashleigh after all this time. She’d practically crushed the life out of him when she left him to grieve alone for the babies they’d lost.

      * * *

      ASHLEIGH STEPPED OFF the elevator on the hospital’s fifth floor. Thanks to Cammie’s efficiency, Ashleigh already had temporary privileges at the hospital, enabling her to park in the staff parking lot.

      She headed down the hall to the newborn nursery, her palms damp. According to Cammie, the patient she was here to see was male, born late yesterday afternoon, vaginal delivery with no complications. He was a few weeks premature, but his birth weight was five pounds, fifteen ounces, and his vitals were strong enough to keep him out of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

      As much as she had braced herself, the sight of several healthy newborns swaddled in plaid blankets in their bassinets was staggering. She’d hoped most of them would be off in their mothers’ rooms, but the infants were having their vitals checked in the nursery.

      She stopped a moment and took a deep breath to stave off her light-headedness before approaching the R.N. at the desk.

      Ashleigh held out her badge, attached to a lanyard around her neck. “I’m Dr. Wilson.” She cleared her throat when she realized her words were barely audible. “I’m here to do a physical on Baby Boy—” She checked the paper Cammie had written the name on. “Baby Boy Stanton.”

      The nurse retrieved the baby’s chart and motioned for Ashleigh to follow her to the patient. Ashleigh had difficulty concentrating on the update the R.N. was giving her as every tiny squeak and wail around her caused the vise on her heart to squeeze tighter.

      She’d long ago accepted that she’d never have a child in this or any other newborn nursery. It wasn’t meant to be.

      That didn’t make being in this atmosphere any less painful.

      She pushed the ache aside and concentrated on the physical examination. The boy was a pretty newborn and she couldn’t say that about all of them. His skin was pink and clear, his hair was dark and there was quite a bit of it. He closed his hand around Ashleigh’s index finger and her cheek itched when a tear escaped.

      She swiped it away angrily and gingerly turned the boy over onto his tummy. It had been too long since she’d examined a newborn and she wasn’t as adept as she used to be.

      “He’s strong and healthy,” she told the nurse when she finished making notes in his chart. “Let me know if anything changes or if he has trouble passing the car seat assessment, although I don’t expect a problem.” The test entailed spending time in his car seat in the nursery while his vitals were monitored. If there was any sign of distress, he would be reevaluated. “Otherwise, I’m writing the order for discharge. He can go home when his mother does, as long as the infant visits my office within forty-eight hours to check his bilirubin.”

      Ashleigh stepped over to the tiny office to record the physical report, which would be transcribed by someone in the medical records department. Then she hurriedly left the area and found the nearest ladies’ room. Her hands were shaking and her skin was pale and clammy.

      This embarrassing emotional reaction to being around infants and children was exactly why she’d given up pediatric medicine.

      * * *

      KYLE PARKED HIS TRUCK in the staff lot at the hospital and made his way to the second floor where he was meeting the hospital lawyer about his lawsuit.

      “Hey, Tom.” Kyle and his longtime friend shook hands. “Please tell me you’ve made this lawsuit go away.”

      Tom Patterson grimaced. “Afraid not.” He gestured for Kyle to take a seat at the conference table and sat down across from him.

      “But I did everything according to standard procedures,” Kyle insisted. “There was no way for me to know the guy was a recovering drug addict.” Blood pounded at his temples. This whole thing was ridiculous—a waste of time and money. “He had a freaking compound fracture. His femur was sticking through his skin at a right angle. All the guy did was yell for pain meds.”

      Tom made a face at the explicit details and raised a hand, while his other hand tapped his pen on the table next to an open folder. “He claims differently. He says he never would have asked for drugs when he’d been clean and sober for nearly three years.”

      “How was I supposed to know that?”

      “He swears he was wearing a medical-alert bracelet. And he has documentation that shows he’s had it since he left rehab.”

      “Impossible!” Kyle couldn’t believe this. “We were at the scene of a horrific car accident. It’s one of the first things I checked when I pulled him out of the car. Could it have come off in the accident?”

      Tom shrugged. “That’s possible, I guess, but it never showed up. He also says he carries a card in his wallet.”

      “There was definitely no wallet on him and his car was on fire. I was lucky to get him and his passenger out before the car exploded.” Kyle ran his hands through his hair. He’d been the only other person on the road when he came across the one-car accident. “What’s the status of his passenger? Is she still in a medically induced coma?” The woman had been airlifted to Shock Trauma in Richmond, so Kyle hadn’t