Dear Ex-wife, Marry Me novel Chapter 1899

Fitch carefully placed his child in the passenger seat. Zoey immediately grabbed his arm, “I’ll hold him in the passenger seat.”

Fitch glanced at her but said nothing.

The car sped towards the hospital, with little Nolan curled up in her arms, a small bundle of vulnerability.

When they wheeled him into the ER, Zoey couldn't hold back her concern any longer.

“Mr. Haskins, does Nolan have other issues? If so, he might not be a good fit for daycare.”

“What do you mean by that?” Fitch asked, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Zoey furrowed her brow. “I'm just stating the facts. He doesn't seem to enjoy interacting with others. When he’s feeling ill, he doesn’t speak up, which can lead to dangerous situations. It might be best to keep him at home.”

“Fitch,” she continued, “can’t you see he doesn’t want to be a bother?”

“Yes, I see that. And my heart goes out to the kid. But as his teacher, I’m terrified. What if something happens to him? How would you react towards me? Towards the daycare? Or towards Zion City? I can’t bear that responsibility. If there’s something else going on with him, you need to tell me. Otherwise, I find out too late, and it’s just as hard on him.”

As Zoey spoke with such calm, in stark contrast to his own panic, Fitch couldn’t help but feel she was being too composed.

Zoey tried to keep her voice steady. “Nolan’s situation is special. He’d be better off under your constant care. Mr. Haskins, he needs you, not daycare.”

Fitch lit a cigarette, ignoring the fact that he was in a hospital.

The taste of nicotine calmed him a bit. His lashes fluttered down, a hint of sarcasm in his eyes.

“Did you forget what you promised him yesterday?”

Zoey’s mind was a mess, and she forced a smile. “Sorry, I had a lot on my plate yesterday, got a bit overwhelmed.”

“You said you’d fold him three paper Ozzy’s as an apology. He waited up all night. Even when he got sick and felt terrible, he didn’t want to tell you, afraid you’d find him too bothersome.”

Zoey’s eyes filled with sympathy. She sighed deeply.

“That’s why I said Nolan’s temperament might be better suited to a personal tutor, someone who can watch over him constantly.”

Fitch’s eyes reddened. He took a deep drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling and twisting in his nostrils.

He flicked the cigarette butt into a nearby trash can. “Don’t you like him?”

Zoey was taken aback. Fitch was a man of high stature; did he really care whether a daycare teacher liked his child?

“I do like Nolan,” she admitted.