by Amanda Faye
"Where are you guys going?"
I look up to Logan because I'm not sure, to be honest. This whole day is in his ballpark.
He smiles at me, then turns his twinkle towards my son. He reaches out his hand, and Brandon shakes it looking proud to be treated like an adult.
"My names Logan, what's your name?"
"Brandon Matthew Adams."
"Any nicknames, Brandon? When I was in school, my friend used to call me LT."
"No, but mommy sometimes calls me a butthead."
Logan's eyes light up as he lets loose a full belly laugh. Brandon and John join in, though I'm not convinced they know why they're laughing.
"My niece is just a year or two older than you guys. You'd like her. She can be a butthead too."
"You should bring her over to play."
I see something flicker in his eyes before it clears an instant later.
"Do you have a phone, Brandon? Let me see it real quick."
I open my mouth to protest, but catch Char's eye beside Logan, and at her mental urging decide to hold my tongue. Brandon and John run into the other room, then back to us, each holding their phones out. Part of me is embarrassed that I got my eight-year-old a phone, but with my hours, he needs to be able to reach me at all times. He and John both have the kids' phones with pre-programmed numbers and a select number of games on them.
He takes each phone in turn, and I have no idea what he's doing until he drops into a squat and calls them both to him. With a boy on either side, he takes a picture with each phone, then hands them back.
"There, now you have my phone number. I'm a friend of your moms, and I work with Brandon's mom at the hospital. If it's okay with you, I was hoping to take her out to get some lunch, and then maybe a movie. If you get worried about her, you can send me a message or give me a call at any time. I promise to take good care of her."
The boys both start to talk at a million miles a minute, throwing out lunch and movie suggestions. I don't have the heart to tell them that McDonalds and Pet's 2 isn't really what we had in mind, but Logan handles it like a pro, asking directions to the best Mcdonalds and asking what candy they'd like him to bring home from the movie theater.
My heart swells at the care he's taking with my son, and I resolutely ignore the 'he's a keeper' vibes Charlotte is throwing my way. I can't keep him. He's not available to take home to my mother. All I can do is enjoy him while he's here.
Chapter 22
Logan
The silence in my Jeep is thick, and I pray that I haven't fucked this all up already. The fact that she has a son was unexpected, but not unwelcome. I wish she would have told me, but I can't blame her for keeping his existence to herself. This was only supposed to be about sex. Not— whatever it's becoming.
At last, I can't take the strain in the car, but when I open my mouth to speak, we both talk simultaneously.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
With that, it's as if someone takes a hammer to the glass of awkwardness smothering us. The tension in the car shatters. Her laughter fills the interior of the Jeep, and I reach over and grab her hand, bringing it to my lips before settling it on my leg with our fingers linked.
"You go first, though you have nothing to apologize for."
"No, I do. I'm sorry that I didn't give you a heads up about Brandon. Most men wouldn't appreciate having an unknown child sprung on them like that. So thanks for being so cool about it."
I take a glance at her, and she's wrapped her hair around her hand and gives it a tug before releasing it and repeating the process. It's fascinating to me how someone so strong and self-assured in the OR can be such a nervous nelly in her personal life. Then yet again, be such a wildcat in the sack. There are so many facets to her personality. I find myself more desperate to see each and everyone as the days tick on.
"As I said, there's no need to apologize. There wasn't any reason to tell me about him before. It's your job to protect him, and it looks like you're doing a fantastic job of it. I'm sorry. I know I probably overstepped with him. He just caught me off guard, and I've suddenly never wanted a kid to like me as much as I did that very moment."
I take my hand back to put both on the wheel, and when she squeezes my thigh, I have to fight the urge to readjust myself in my pants.
"If you don't mind, would you tell me a bit about him?"
We still have a few minutes before we get to the restaurant, and she finally looks like she's losing the nervousness she's been shrouded in since she walked down the stairs.
"He's amazing, though I know all parents think that. He has so much energy, its mind-blowing. The boy doesn't walk anywhere. He runs, at full speed, at all times. It's both adorable and frustrating as hell. I'm always in fear of him running into traffic in the middle of the parking lot, even though he's good about checking for cars. He's already talking about wanting to be a doctor. Then, at this age, most of our children want to do what we do. I'm sure he'll grow out of it as more of the world is introduced to him."
"I wouldn't count on that. Ellie is already stealing medical journals, and once we caught her watching surgery video. Zoe is an oncologist, and Mandy is an Obstetrician. Liam is our Darcy, head of the hospital. Sami is a nurse anesthetist. Jeanie and Charles, I don't know if I've mentioned them, they have three children. Their oldest is fifteen, I think, and he spends two afternoons a week candy striping in the ICU. I believe that it's a nature vs. nurture thing, and some people were just born to be doctors."
"That's interesting. I've often thought that Brandon has a physician's soul."
"We'll have to see if there's a paper out there about certain professions running in families."
Silence falls again, but this time it's comfortable instead of awkward. She's running her fingernails up and down my jean covered leg, and at the next red light, I close my eyes in an attempt to gather myself. Pulling over and ravishing her in some random parking lot isn't part of the plan.
"Brandon and John are just a few months apart in age, and Char and the kids moved in with us before they turned one. The boys are attached at the hip. Brandon's an only child, but in reality, has both a brother and sister. He goes with them most weekends when they go to their dad's house. They were supposed to be there this weekend, but he got stuck in California on a business trip."
"I get that. That's basically how Mandy and I were raised. We're raising all of our kids that way too. We live close together back home, a group of us. We pass the kids around like they're a timeshare some weekends."
I say our kids, and swallow the ever-present ache in my chest that none of the children I care for regularly are actually mine. Some people never have spawn of their own, and I've accepted that. It doesn't mean I like it.
Now that I know she has a kid, her reluctance to meet me anywhere outside of the hospital or my apartment makes a lot more sense to me. It raises all sorts of questions about her ex too.
"Do you mind if I ask about Brandon's father? Was it the resident moron?"
She chuckles at my description of her pathetic ex-boyfriend. Not that I've ever met the man. He was long gone by the time I showed up, thank goodness. But in my humble opinion, anyone who willingly gives up the goddess sitting next to me must be a special kind of stupid.
"I don't mind. It's not a secret. No, Joe wasn't Brandon's biological father. I'd thought that he wanted the job, but apparently, not enough."
She sounds sad, and anger at this unknown asshole courses through my body. How can you live with a woman, help raise her child, and then leave without a backward glance when something you perceive as better comes along? I'll never understand that.
Suddenly she giggles shyly and clears her throat.
"I may have given the impression in our short time together that I used to be quite the little slut."
I cut her off right there.
"You see, that pisses me off. Why is it okay for men to fuck around, but women are considered slutty if they do it? As lo
ng as everyone is safe and having fun, why does it matter how many people you sleep with? The double standard is just bullshit if you ask me."
I can feel her staring at me, and to my embarrassment, I feel a blush creep up my neck. Now it's my turn to clear my throat. Looking towards her quickly, I run my fingers roughly through my hair and try to regain my composure.
"Sorry, um, yeah, my mom was a hippy. Free love and all that. She gave me condoms for special occasions staring at age fifteen. It ah, had an impact on the way I see things, I guess you could say. Believe it or not, I lost my virginity later than most of my friends at almost seventeen. Most likely, because she drilled respect and equal treatment for women into my head. It traumatized me at the time, but that woman taught me some valuable lessons about pleasing your partner."
"Remind me to send her a thank you note." She's laughing at me while she says it, and fuck if I don't blush again. I bring her hand to my lips and place a kiss on it as she picks up where she left off before my rant.
"Fine. I wasn't a slut. I was happily playing the field. Better?"
"Yes, better. Thank you."
"Anyway. This one guy, who shall remain nameless, was doing a semester-long teaching stint at the university. We hooked up a few times, nothing serious. Whenever we both found ourselves at the bar with no better prospects for the night. Everything was in place like it should have been; condoms were used. But nothing is 100 percent. A couple of weeks later, I was pregnant. He had no desire to be a parent, and I couldn't blame him. He was on the professor track and was scheduled for some overseas research program as soon as the semester was over. He signed away his rights before I hit the second trimester. I've got a way to contact him if I ever need to. If we need a kidney donor or some such."
I can't imagine how hard that must have been for her. Pregnant and alone. A single mom raised me, and I know how amazing they are, but I also know how overwhelming it can be to try to be everything, and every one your children need all by yourself. Luckily Emma has one hell of a support group.
"And you," I gently push.
"I thought about it. Keeping him verses, well, not. I thought long and hard. I was a senior resident, so not exactly the best time to bring a child home. Lizzy and Noah were trying and failing, to conceive, and I worried about what it would do to our relationship. My hours were crazy, but at least it was a guaranteed job. Darcy and I owned the house we lived in already, and when I told him he was, well, he was shocked. Weren't we all? But then he got excited. He was already being groomed for taking over and so had more flexibility in his schedule. He immediately offered to help split night time baby changes and morning daycare drop-offs. In the end, it wasn't a hard choice. I met Joe when Brandon was almost two years old. He moved in with us when Brandon was four. Then an attending position opened up in Michigan last May, and he left."
She tries to play it off like it's no big deal, but I know her pretty well by this point. Or at least I know her body, and it's responses. The man she thought she'd raise her family with, grow old with, just leaving her like it was an easy decision would have broken a lesser woman.
I pull into the restaurant, an Italian pizza place the girls at the hospital raved about as a great date place. After I've parked, I turn to face her fully, wrapping my hands in her hair and running my thumb along her cheekbones. I wonder in my awe of her will ever wear off.
"Like I said. An absolute fucking moron."
Chapter 23
Emma
I've been to this restaurant before, of course, but never with someone as infectious as Logan. His charm is on full display this afternoon, and he has everyone from the hostess to the waiter eating out of the palm of his hand before we even make it to our table.
They try to sit us in the middle, and Logan uses his magic to get us into a secluded table in the back. There's no one around us, and I'd bet money that this section wasn't even supposed to be in use right now.
Like the gentleman I'm learning he is, he takes my coat from my shoulders and settles it onto a chair before he pulls a different chair out for me to sit. I expect him to sit across from me, but instead, he removes his coat and places it on the chair across from me, then settles himself on the only remaining chair, which happens to be directly next to me. He flashes me his trademark evil grin, then pulls the chair a smidgen closer before wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
"Smooth Logan, very smooth."
"Yeah, you like that, huh? I'm only getting started. If this is my only opportunity to impress, I'm pulling out all my moves, Austen."
He speaks into my ear from mere millimeters away, and his breath sends goosebumps all over my body. Heat bursts from my center and pools in my belly and my lips are trembling when I take my next breath.
"Shall we see what's on the menu?"
His voice is back to normal, and I shake my head in exasperation at his playfulness. I can't resist placing a quick kiss on his cheek before picking up the menu and holding it open for us.
*******
The amount of food he orders is ridiculous. Enough to feed a small army, at least. The appetizer sampler with extra goodies besides. Salads, an extra-large pizza. Cheese bread plus garlic knots. A full bottle of wine. They're going to have to pull an additional table over to hold all the food.
When I try to protest, he tells me that anything we don't eat, we'd package up and bring home to my crew to finish off tonight. When I mentioned what Brandon's favorite item on the menu was, he ordered a side of it to go. Damn him anyway. The way to my heart has always been through my stomach.
It's weird, having a first date with a man I've been sleeping with for weeks now. It's fun too; all of the pleasure of getting to know someone without any of the first date awkwardness that comes with it.
"Darcy and I had planned on attending different colleges when we applied, but when we were both accepted to Stanford, it wasn't a hard decision to make. Out of the three schools we both jointly applied to, it was the only one we were both accepted at. Plus, and I'll never admit it out loud again, but it didn't feel right, being so far away from him.
“We'd had a plan freshman year. We weren't going to tell anyone we were siblings, especially that we were twins. No joint classes, nothing that brought us into daily contact. That lasted all of a week. By sophomore year we were living together off-campus. To this day, he still tries to scare off any potential boyfriend he sees heading my direction."
Logan rolls his eyes good-naturedly, taking my off-handed threat for what it was.
"Yeah, that was Mandy and me. Only we stayed together up until residency, and I already told you how well that worked out. Instead of scaring off potential bedmates, though, we used to pick a girl and see which one of us she'd go home with. Once or twice, we scored together, but that got old quickly. Two girls together? Hot. Two girls together where the one you can't touch or make eye contact with without wanting to make gagging noises or, depending on your alcohol level, giggle like a girl? Not so hot."
The image makes me laugh so hard I shoot wine all over the table, which in turn sets Logan off on a gale of laughter too. Wiping off my face with his napkin, he leans forward and steals a kiss in between swipes of the towel.
My phone rings Charlotte's ringtone, and after a second's hesitation, I let it go to voicemail. It's probably just Brandon wanting to tell me how much fun they're having at the skating rink. When it rings a second time, a little surge of nerves run from my head to my toes while I reach for my phone.
Logan gives me a reassuring smile and reaches for his glass as I bring the phone to my ear.
"Emma. Don't panic, but there's been an accident."
Charlotte's voice is tight and panic-filled, and her instructions that I do not panic while her tone is laced with nothing but is ridiculous.
The blood drains from my face. I'm already standing and reaching for my purse before my ears focus back on what Charlotte is saying.
Logan, for his part, reacts immediately. I'm sure he can't h
ear Char on the other side of the phone, but as I feel my heart plummet and the air whoosh out of my lungs, Logan is on his feet, pulling his wallet from his pocket and tossing a wad of hundreds onto the table. He pulls out a business card and drops it on top of the pile, then reaches to help me put on my jacket.
"There was a dog pile at the rink, someone tripped and caused a chain reaction. Brandon ended up at the bottom of the collection. I don't think he created it; he just got caught up in the downfall.
"I'm pretty sure he broke his arm, and there's a decent-sized gash on his face, probably from someone's skate. Its deep Ems, it'll need stitches, maybe surgery. The paramedics called ahead to Riley's, and Darcy will be waiting for us in the ER. He doesn't want to go in the ambulance alone, and they aren't paramedics I know, so I'm going to drive him myself."
"Riley's," I breath out to Logan, and the next thing I register, we're in his Jeep, and he's pulling out of the parking spot.
"We'll be there in fifteen."
It's a half-hour drive at least, but I relay what Logan said to Charlotte then disc the line. She needs two hands to deal with my son.
"He fell at the rink. Someone tripped him. He broke his arm and cut his face. Charlotte said the facial laceration is bad. I should have been there, Logan. I can't believe you talked me into going out with you. This wouldn't have happened if I was there."
When he pulls up to a red light, he angles his entire body in his seat to face me.
"That's ridiculous, Emma. You being there wouldn't have prevented him from getting hurt. Kids get hurt no matter if their parents are standing next to them watching or all the way across the world. It's the nature of children. He's going to be fine, Em. You'll get to him, give him a hug, and he'll be just fine, you'll see."
When I don't reply, Logan hits a button on his car, and says into the silence, "Call Barbara."
My ears perk up at the name of one of the senior scrub nurses on staff. Why would he have a nurse on speed dial? A married nurse at that? I thought we had a deal? Oh God, he's sleeping with more than me, and one of them married to boot.