Billionaire, I Am Not Your Wife! novel Chapter 114

Chapter 103: Holding His Woman

Logan’s POV

We looked at each other for a moment.

I thought about calling Cameron again and demanding that he come down here and take me to my wife. I thought about what Cameron would say when I told him I was standing in the lobby of St. Anthony’s. About the particular quality of his voice when he’d said *don’t come to the hospital unannounced* and I’d agreed and then done exactly that, come unannounced.

“Is there patient services?” I asked trying to see if there was something else that I could try, that did not have to involve calling Sedona’s family who would shut it down before I could see her. “A liaison I could-”

“I can connect you with patient services, yes. Though I want to be upfront that they’ll be operating under the same privacy guidelines and they take the patient privacy extremely.”

She was already reaching for a phone. “If you’d like to take a seat, I can let them know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” I said, because there was nothing else to say.

I moved to the waiting area and sat in one of the chairs that lined the lobby wall and looked at the floor and thought about what I was doing.

I’d been in Seattle for thirty-six hours. I visited eight hospitals. I’d called Cameron twice. I slept badly for three nights. I was sitting in the lobby of the correct hospital knowing she was somewhere in this building and having no way to reach her, unless I started checking every room in every corridor in every floor of this enterprise building.

The lobby around me moved with its quiet purpose-more people arriving, staffs going about their morning duties with no issues attempting to the needs of people who were unwell. A man with flowers. Two women with a child between them. An elderly couple moving slowly but together, the same rhythm that immediately gave me nostalgia that if I had not messed up, in 50 years that would be me and Sedona.

I could not bear to look at the couple anymore so I was looking at the floor.

And then I heard it. Sedona’s laugh.

It came from the direction of the corridor to my left-the one that led, I’d noticed when I came in, toward the garden wing, the outdoor spaces that cancer centers often had for patients mobile enough to use them.

She was carrying a baby.

A small one-less than a year, round-faced, dark-haired, looking at the world with the alert interested expression of a baby who had decided everything was worth investigating. The baby had both hands wrapped around the lapel of Sedona’s coat with the trusting grip that babies used when they’d decided a person was safe, and Sedona was holding her with the ease of someone who’d done it many times, the shift and adjustment of an experienced holder, her chin dipping toward the baby’s head as she said something I couldn’t hear through the glass.

And beside her-

The man was tall. Significantly tall, the kind of height that registered before anything else did, with the particular build of someone who maintained physical conditioning professionally. He was walking beside Sedona with a proximity that wasn’t casual-not the neutral spacing of acquaintances moving in the same direction, but the close, deliberate proximity of someone who had decided that the distance between them was the correct distance and had placed himself there intentionally.

His hand was at her waist.

Not holding her up. His hand was at her waist the way you put your hand somewhere when the person beside you was someone you’d decided to be near.

Sedona said something. He said something back. The baby made a sound, reaching for something-the collar of his jacket, maybe-and he looked down at her with an expression I couldn’t read from this distance but that involved, unmistakably, a smile. Sedona laughed again, the real one, the catch at the end, her head tilting back slightly amused at the scene happening in front of her and making no effort to hide it.