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No, you’re not. You’re kind and smart and generous.

He doesn’t need someone like me in his life. He needs someone sweet and pure and wholesome.You can be sweet and wholesome too.

And there’s Tommy to think of.

What good can possibly come out of this?

Take a chance.

Let it be.

You don’t have to marry the guy.

I laugh at the last one. As if. I’m not marriage material. I’ll die the way I was born. Alone and unwanted.

Not true. You have people who love you.

Take a chance.

Let it be.

I get into my car. Relish in the warmth inside. Drive to the hospital. My thoughts are a jumbled mess of opposite messages.

Take a chance.

Why bother? He’s not for you.

Let it be.

You’re going to hurt him and yourself.

Dylan: Tonight.

The message comes as I’m walking into the NICU. I smile. Something that feels like hope flutters in my chest. I turn off my phone, put my stuff in the locker, and prepare to scrub. I can do this. I can lead if he’ll follow.

Chapter Forty-Two

“Good morning, Becca.”Nancy is all smiles when I walk into the NICU.

I muffle a yawn. Spending half of the night talking to Dylan was worth every sleepless minute.

“Good morning. You look happy.” I check myself, make sure everything is in place—gown, cap, shoe covers.

“I am. We have great news. Baby Jay is going home.” She claps her hands.

I miss a step. I’m clobbered by her words. And I know she can read it on my face. Her smile fades. Her hands go to my shoulders. My eyes burn.

“Now, now. None of that. I know you’ve grown attached to him. And him to you. But this is good. A wonderful family will foster him. And they’re moving to adopt him.”

“When?” My chin quivers and my voice cracks.

She presses her lips together and squeezes my shoulders harder. “This afternoon. All the paperwork was ready to release him yesterday, but I called in a favor and asked them to pick him up today so you can say goodbye and meet the family.”

A nod is all I can manage. I knew this day was coming as it has many times before. Leaving the NICU is a wonderful thing for these babies. They fought hard to live. They have earned it. Going home with their parents is the ultimate goal. Why does this hurt so much, then?

I find my little man. His thin arms shake in excitement when I lean over his incubator. “Not yours, Becca. He was never yours,” I whisper to myself.

“Hi there. Ready for your lunch?” I take Baby Jay out of the incubator and nuzzle him to my chest, inhaling his heavenly scent. My eyes sting. I find an empty rocker and sit with him. He turns his head and looks at me with gray-blue newborn eyes that are too big for his face. His mouth opens and closes to form a little pout.