Page 40 of Doctor Holliday

“I don’t know, ma’am. I haven’t seen her since the night…” Uncomfortable with the conversation, he cleared his throat. “Since the night the baby was born.”

“I’ve heard you’re dating the doctor who delivered the baby.”

Whoa. Talk about gossip. How would she know that? Alyssa? Did it matter?

“I am.” He nodded. “But we don’t talk about work.”

Sure, Keaton was happy to tell Lucy about record sales days, but never once had he asked about Logan or the baby. Lucy couldn’t share any information with him, and he suspected asking her would make her feel uncomfortable.

They had damned near burned through the box of condoms already. Keaton would buy up another twenty boxes if Lucy stuck around, though the thought of actually being official, of announcing that they were a thing, made him want to do away with protection. He couldn’t have more children. Lucy didn’t want more children. Contraception wasn’t an issue. Keaton had no interest in being with anyone else, and he was reasonably sure Lucy didn’t either.

He would show her love and respect until she was ready to commit to the thing they continued to call simplysomething bigger.

The woman sighed. “Thank you. For…” She looked around the counter, as if she might find a script on what to say to him. “For helping Logan that night.”

Tongue-tied, Keaton nodded.

“She’s had a rough time with her father and I together. She and I aren’t close. It’s ugly for her.”

“I only did what anyone else would have done.”

“That’s not true, Mr. Thatcher.” The woman shook her head. “Logan told us. You respected her wishes and didn’t call the ambulance right away.”

“We did call an ambulance, though.”

“I know. But you waited. Until the baby was here. Maybe that’s backwards, but I think it was exactly what Logan needed.”

Keaton sighed and nodded. He reached for one of the ornaments. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s getting some help,” the woman answered. Keaton wouldn’t ask what kind of help. He simply nodded, thankful to hear it.

“And the baby?”

“She was placed for adoption.”

The words were a knife in his heart. Good and bad. He said a silent prayer that the baby would be blessed with parents to care for her and that Logan would come out of the ordeal healed and as happy as she could be.

“I’m happy to hear that,” he said quietly. “I hope it’s what’s best for both of them.”

“Fourteen-year-old kids have no business raising babies.”

Keaton had a lot he wanted to say in response, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Thank you. For coming in,” he told her as he rang up her purchase. “But you should thank Dr. Holliday. She did the hard stuff. Well, no, actually, I thinkLogandid the hard stuff.”

“I did talk to Dr. Holliday.” The woman nodded. “She’s actually the one who told me you’re involved.”

“Oh.”

“She said you were a rock that night.”

Keaton simply stared at her, overcome with emotion. The whole situation had been harrowing—from finding a young girl writhing in pain, helping to deliver a baby in his stockroom, and getting the girl and the baby to the hospital safely. And yet, if Logan hadn’t stumbled into his unlocked stockroom, he might never have met Lucy Holliday.

He wrapped the glass ornaments in tissue paper and placed them gently in the bag. But he caught himself before he could wish her a Merry Christmas. It seemed a bit tone-deaf to say something like that when her family was going through a difficult time, and he knew only the bare minimum of their story.

“It won’t be a Merry Christmas for us, Mr. Thatcher,” the woman told him as she took the bag from him. It was as if she could read his mind. “But maybe we’ll get back to that eventually.”

“I hope so,” he said sincerely.