The baby was still crying softly when Emmy came upstairs with the baby paracetamol and the syringe. Dylan had taken the babygro off and was rocking Tyler and singing to him.
Dylan glanced at the syringe and his eyes widened. ‘What, we have to give him an injection?’
‘No. The instructions say it’s easier to give medicine to babies with an oral syringe than a spoon,’ she explained.
‘Right.’
Between them, they managed to administer the medicine, then sponged the baby with tepid water.
‘Sorry, I interrupted you from your work.’ She blew out a breath. ‘It’s my shift, and I should be able to cope. It’s just... This is what keeps me awake at night. I worry about him. I worry that every cough and sneeze will turn into meningitis. That he’ll die and it’ll be all my fault for not looking after him properly.’
‘Emmy, he doesn’t have meningitis. He doesn’t have a rash.’
‘There isn’t one at first. We could blink and he’ll be covered in purple stuff that won’t go away when you press a glass against it.’ She’d read all the books. She knew the signs. And she had nightmares about it. Terror that made her breathing go shallow.
‘We’re both keeping an eye on him, so we won’t miss anything between us.’ He rested his fingertips against her cheek, his touch calming her. ‘Deep breaths, Emmy. He’s not going to die and you’re doing a great job of looking after him. And don’t apologise for interrupting me.’ He cradled the baby tenderly. ‘He’s not well, and he needs to come first. I would’ve done the same if it was my shift.’
‘I’ll get him a drink of cooled boiled water. It might help him feel better.’
‘Good idea. It must be some sort of bug. There are quite a few people at work with rotten colds.’ He looked stricken. ‘Oh, no. I probably brought the germs home with me.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not your fault, Dylan. He could have caught a virus absolutely anywhere.’
Three hours later, the baby was fast asleep, but Emmy was still worried about him. ‘I think I’ll sleep in his room tonight.’
‘You’re not going to get a lot of rest on the floor,’ Dylan pointed out.
‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘Or maybe I’ll bring him in with me. Except I’m a bit scared of rolling over in the night and squishing him.’
He looked at her. ‘If it was my shift tonight, you still wouldn’t be able to sleep because you’d be worrying about him, right?’
‘I guess so.’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ he warned, ‘but maybe we could both look after him, tonight. I do trust you—of course I do—but this is the first time he’s been ill since we’ve been looking after him, and it worries me.’
‘Me, too,’ she admitted.
‘We could take two-hour shifts, so one of us stays awake and keeps an eye on him while the other of us has a nap,’ he suggested
She nodded. ‘But it isn’t fair to keep moving him between our rooms—and, as you said, the nursery floor isn’t that comfortable.’ The sensible course was obvious. But actually saying it... She took a deep breath. ‘OK. Your bed or mine?’
Dylan gave her a rueful smile. ‘I never thought I’d hear those words from you, Em.’
‘Believe you me, I never thought I’d say them to you,’ she said dryly. ‘And this is only because we both need to look after him. I’m not coming on to you.’ Though even as she said it, she felt her face flood with colour. She was horribly aware that, in another life, she would be coming on to Dylan—because she liked the man he’d become. And she definitely found him attractive.
Which was why she found her most frumpy pair of pyjamas before she showered, just to make the point that there was nothing sexual about this. She felt amazingly shy as she changed into her nightwear—which was ridiculous, considering that she was covered from head to toe and she knew that Dylan had seen more of her body when she was wearing a dress. Even so, she kept the bedside light on its lowest setting.
There was a knock on the door.
And how stupid that her heart missed a beat.
‘Come in,’ she called, hoping that her voice didn’t sound as husky and nervous to him as it did to her.
He walked in wearing just a pair of pyjama bottoms, carrying the sleeping baby.
‘I, um, don’t tend to wear a pyjama top because I get too hot at night. Is that a problem for you?’
‘No, it’s fine.’ She really hoped he hadn’t heard that little shiver in her voice. Too hot at night. Oh-h-h. He looked amazingly hot right now. She could really see that he worked out at the gym regularly because his muscles were beautifully sculpted; he had good abs and strong arms, and he wouldn’t have looked out of place in a perfume ad. Especially dressed the way he was, right now.
And that was totally inappropriate. He was here in her bedroom because Tyler was sick and they were sharing his care, that was all.
‘Which side of the bed do you prefer to sleep on?’ he asked.
‘The right side—nearest the door,’ she said.
‘Fine by me.’ He pulled the covers back and gently laid Tyler in the middle of the bed. He touched the baby’s forehead and grimaced. ‘He still feels hot.’
‘We’d better not put a cover over him, then.’
They both climbed into bed, on either side of the baby.
‘Poor little mite,’ Emmy said softly. ‘I wish I could have that high temperature for him.’
‘Me, too,’ Dylan said. ‘It’s weird how protective I feel about him. I never thought I’d ever feel this way about a baby.’
It was as if Tyler were their natural child, Emmy thought. She wasn’t his birth mother, but she was in the position of his mother, now, and she loved him deeply. Dylan clearly felt the same way, as if he were Tyler’s real father.
‘We’re privileged,’ she said softly.
‘Yes, we are.’ He paused. ‘Shall I take the first shift while you try to get some sleep for a couple of hours? I’ll wake you when it’s your turn.’
‘OK. Thanks, Dylan. I appreciate the backup.’
‘You’d have done the same if it’d been my turn to look after him,’ he said. ‘Try to get some sleep.’
She turned over so her back was to him, but she was so aware of him. He was in her bed, barely an arm’s reach away. And if Tyler hadn’t been there...
No, no and no. She was not going to allow herself to think about the possibilities.
Eventually Emmy managed to get to sleep. Then she became aware of someone stroking her arm and shaking her shoulder very gently. ‘Emmy? Wake up.’
‘Uhh.’ It took a second for her to think why Dylan would be shaking her awake; then she remembered and sat up with a jolt. ‘Is Tyler OK?’
‘He’s still a bit warm, but I put a single sheet over him because his legs and arms seemed a bit cold.’
‘Good idea. You get some sleep now. I’ll stay awake.’
Still feeling groggy, she placed her fingertips on Tyler’s forehead. Dylan’s assessment was spot on.
She was glad that Dylan turned his back to her to go to sleep, because she really didn’t want him to catch her looking lustfully at