Before I Let You Go(48)

I stare at him. Tears cloud my vision, but I blink them away.

“Give me four weeks,” I whisper.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” It’s Oliver’s turn to be incredulous.

“Four weeks, Olly. Four weeks, and I promise it will all be sorted out, and I’ll be back and the most loyal staff member you’ve ever had on your team. It’d take you at least a few weeks to recruit a replacement for me anyway, right? So you have nothing to lose.”

“Fucking hell, Lexie.”

“Please?”

“Unpaid leave.”

“Of course.” The relief crashes over me, and I freeze—debating whether or not I should hug him.

“Christ,” Oliver groans, then he stares at his desk as he points a stiff finger toward his office door. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

I’m sitting in Annie’s room several hours later, holding the baby while the nurse tends to Annie’s dressing. She is still groggy and in pain.

“I’ll talk to the doctor again,” the nurse murmurs, but she’s impatient, because Annie has been complaining for hours now. Within minutes of her last shot of morphine, Annie wanted more, and the nurses have already discussed it with the registrar on duty and confirmed the dose is correct. I can’t tell if Annie is genuinely in pain or just wants more drugs, so I feel for the doctors.

When we are alone again, I approach the bed with the baby, and Annie brightens just a little.

“It’s difficult to get the dose right,” I tell her quietly. “Your tolerance to the opioids would be pretty high, and the methadone . . .”

“I know,” Annie interrupts me, but she speaks weakly. She looks exhausted. “But I have seven days with her, and right now I’m in so much pain I can’t even think straight. They need to give me something more so I can function a bit more, because I won’t get these hours back.”

I sit on the edge of the bed so Annie can see the baby, who’s wide-awake but content. Annie raises her hand to touch the baby’s arm, and she smiles gently at her.

“Hello, little one. You look happy.”

“The baby looks like Dad,” I tell Annie, and she looks at me in surprise.

“You think so?”

“Well, she looks like you, and you do, so . . .”

“I thought I might give her Nell for a middle name. It’s not exactly Neil, but it’s close.”

“And her first name?” I say hesitantly. I glance at Annie. “I’m really sorry about before. I shouldn’t have . . .”

Annie looks at me blankly.

“Before?”

“Don’t you remember? In recovery?”

Annie shifts her gaze from me back to the baby, but I know she’s lying when she says, “I was too out of it. I don’t remember anything of recovery. And anyway, her name will be Daisy. Daisy Nell Vidler. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

I hesitate, because I do still think Daisy is a much more sensible name, but I don’t want to overturn my sister’s wishes. There’s a soft knock at the door, and when I turn around, Sam is there. He’s carrying a huge bunch of flowers and a pink It’s a Girl balloon. He offers me a smile.

“Hey,” he says, “can I come in?”

“Of course,” Annie says. He approaches us at the bed and stares down at the baby.

“Well, Annie. Your daughter is beautiful. Congratulations.”

“You didn’t have to buy me flowers,” she tells him a little stiffly. “You’ve done enough, Sam. You really have.”

“Ah, nonsense.” He waves a hand toward her dismissively. “You’re family, and she’s family. By the way, does ‘she’ have a name?”

“Daisy,” Annie tells him.

“That’s a beautiful name, Annie. Congratulations.”

He makes room for the flowers on her bedside table and sticks the balloon a little awkwardly into the bunch, then opens his arms and nods toward the baby.

“Can I?” he asks, and I pass him my niece.

“Sorry I didn’t call you,” I say as I adjust the baby’s blanket around her in his arms. I’m momentarily distracted by how natural Sam looks as he holds the newborn. He’ll hold our babies one day, if we’re lucky enough to have them. If he sticks around after all of this chaos . . . “It’s been a whirlwind.”

“It’s fine. I had my spies keeping an eye on you two,” he assures us. “I wanted to come by earlier but I had a patient emergency myself. I’ve only just finished now.”

“What time is it?” Annie asks, and I turn to the clock on the wall.

“God, it’s nearly seven o’clock.”

“Have you taken some time off work?” Sam asks me carefully, and I nod. “In that case, I thought we could drive home together tonight and travel back in together tomorrow. If you’re ready now.”

“I don’t think I should leave Annie yet—” I glance at her, and she shakes her head.

“I’m exhausted, Lexie. I’m just waiting for something stronger for the pain, then I’m going to sleep.”

“Are you in much pain, Annie?” Sam frowns, and I try to shoot him a message with my eyes—danger, don’t get involved. He also seems to be trying to send me a message right back—trust me. I do—I’m sure Sam is very well versed in the complexities of this pain-management scenario—but as much as I trust him, I also know Annie, and how manipulative she can be.