by Amie Knight
I smiled through my tears and used my eyes to motion to my mom behind me. His head turned slowly, finally registering that someone else was in the room with us.
“Doc, this is my momma, Abigail, but you can call her Abby.” I grabbed Anthony’s hands and pulled them from my face. Placing them in my lap, still clutched in between mine, I said, “Momma, this is Dr. Anthony Jackson.”
Anthony studied my momma a beat before he stood up and held his hand out. Meanwhile, my momma sat there stunned, and my momma was never stunned.
“You’re the doctor?” she said quietly as Jason entered the room with two cups of hot tea.
Anthony smiled down at her, hand still out. “I’m a doctor, yes.”
“The doctor she came here for?”
He nodded.
Momma stood up and Anthony’s hand finally dropped.
“And do you make house calls for all your patients?”
“Never,” he answered easily, smiling at me.
“So, my daughter means something to you, then?” Lord have mercy, my momma was a straight shooter and I’d been embarrassed by her plenty in my life, but I had a feeling what she was about to say was going to take the cake.
Anthony didn’t hesitate. “She means everything to me.”
And my heart flip-flopped around in my chest at his admission. He meant everything to me, too.
“Lord have mercy,” my momma exclaimed, turning to me. “Did you hear that, baby girl? This beautiful, statuesque doctor said you mean everything to him.” She was fanning herself and yet here I sat hot all over, praying my momma stopped talking. God wasn’t listening worth a damn, though.
“He’s beautiful, Kelly, and he’s a doctor! If I were a little younger and single”—she looked at Jason pointedly—“I’d be asking for some mouth to mouth, honey. I’d need a little resuscitating. If you know what I mean?” She jabbed me with her elbow.
I was horrified, but not surprised. I buried my face in my hands, trying to hide, but to no avail.
“You heard her, little bit. I’m a hot doctor.” Anthony snickered and I wanted to crawl into the cushions of the couch and disappear.
“Helloooo, I brought dinner.” I heard yelled from the foyer and looked around Anthony’s legs to find his mother in the foyer. Oh, but Lord help me. This was like a bad family reunion that no one wanted.
Anthony introduced Lucy to my momma. I was still sitting here horrified and dreading what else my momma might say or do.
“I’m Anthony’s mother,” Lucy elaborated, and I rolled my eyes.
I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “How nice of you to offer up that bit of information right away.”
Lucy leaned around Anthony and rubbed my hair. “Oh, sweet thing, I thought that was water under the bridge.”
It was, of course.
“Oh, you must be so proud of Anthony,” my mother gushed to Lucy.
“And Kelly is just so wonderful. We love her dearly. You did an amazing job with her,” Lucy said.
Anthony stood over me, and we just gave each other looks while our moms talked like we weren’t here at all.
The doorbell rang. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, who could be here now?” I was done.
My mom opened the door and grabbed a package from an older gentleman and closed the door. She studied the box for a moment and started to open it up. “Expecting a package from Miranda?”
Alarm bells went off in my brain like the ones I heard when I was in elementary school and we would huddle in the hallway and hide. Only now, I couldn’t hide, unfortunately. “Oh, Momma, don’t open that!”
Too late, she was peering inside with Lucy leaned over her shoulder. Nosy ass women!
“What do we have here?” Lucy said with a smile.
My momma held up a book with a hot couple on the cover, clutching each other dramatically and sensually. The tagline across the cover read “What To Read After Fifty Shades of Grey.” I paled. Fuck my life. Hard.
I looked over at Anthony, horrified, and the bastard had the audacity to laugh.
“And look at this.” Lucy held up a box with what looked like a small lipstick. It seemed pretty harmless except for the fact the label read, “Vibrating Lipstick—for your on the go needs.”
My face flamed red-hot and I tried to snatch the box from the parents from hell. I was going to kill Miranda.
“Oh, there’s a note in here, too! “For all your hot doctor needs. Love, M,” my mother read.Jesus Christ, take the damn wheel right now. I was horribly embarrassed.
Burying my face in my hands, I heard Anthony laugh. “See, shortcake, everyone thinks I’m a hot doctor.”
“I have dibs on the book. It looks delish,” said my crazy ass mother.
“That lipstick is all mine! I don’t have a man, after all. Come to the kitchen. You can help me plate dinner.” Lucy put her arm through my mother’s.
My mother looked back at us and turned to go with Lucy. “Aren’t they adorable together?” she whispered, and I felt my eyes get big.
“They are! They argue and fight like an old married couple. You just wait and see, they are the cutest thing ever!” Lucy whispered back.
I threw myself on the couch, beyond mortified. There was a special place in hell for Miranda. And she had something good coming to her. Payback was a bitch and I’d be her dealer soon!
Anthony sat down next to me and pulled me under his big arm. I laid my head on his chest despite my embarrassment and breathed out deeply. Because I was at ease. My momma finally knew. And she was here. That was all that mattered. It didn’t matter that I’d gotten the most awkward package of my life in front of both mine and Anthony’s parents.
“Neither one of them can whisper worth a damn.”
I laughed. “True story, Doc.”
We all ate dinner around the table in the apartment, our moms cackling and carrying on like old friends over a bottle of red wine. Anthony, Jason, and I stayed quiet for the most part, enjoying their ridiculous stories about us as children and rolling our eyes at them when they’d clearly had too much to drink. No one mentioned the book or vibrator. Thank God.
At the end of our meal, I was full. Full of food, full of love, full of family. It had been a good night and when I felt Anthony’s ankle settle against mine under the table, a good evening became a perfect one.
I shouldn’t have started. Because now I couldn’t stop. I was like some kind of crazy drug addict, only my choice of drug was Kelly Potter. And I was completely fucking strung out. But I told myself lies.
It had only been weeks since I’d shown up at her apartment and found her and my mom lounging on the sofa together watching a movie.
I’d gone home that night determined to stay away from the sixth floor.
Telling myself she was just a client.
Her daughter, my patient.
I’d hung my blazer in my closet and taken my bow tie off, running my hands through my hair roughly before finally caving and walking the stairs two floors up. I told myself I just wanted to make sure she was settled and that she didn’t need anything.
Another lie.
In truth, I wanted to see her. I’d thought about her nonstop all day.
And seeing her there with my mom, it had done something to me I couldn’t explain. And I was positive I couldn’t explain it because I’d never felt that way before. And when my mom had leaned in and touched her face and spoken so lovingly to her, it had meant something to me. Something sweet, something different than the days I spent helping women save their babies. Something better than that. Something more and I didn’t think that was possible. Because what I did for a living was pretty damn sweet.
And as the weeks passed, I found myself telling more lies. I just wanted her friendship. I didn’t really have very many good friends. I was too busy with my patients. So I told myself I was going there every day after work to hang out. The early days just sitting there on the couch while she ignored me. Just friendship. That’s all I wanted from he
r.
In truth, I just wanted to be around her. All the time.
More lies. I didn’t think of our night together long ago. I didn’t notice how beautiful she glowed with pregnancy. Her smile didn’t make my heart beat faster. Her laughter didn’t settle over my body like a thick blanket, warming me from the outside in. I didn’t live for her snark, and her witty comebacks didn’t make my cock hard. The brave way she loved and fought for her unborn child didn’t make me proud. No, that could never happen. Because, we couldn’t cross that line.
I was the doctor.
It was impossible.
I couldn’t let myself feel anything for this woman. It would jeopardize her child’s life.
Those were the only truths I told myself those days.
She came into the office for tests and scans and I pretended she wasn’t there, and it was no easy feat with my mother skulking around, interfering, and adoring Kelly far more than I ever thought she could. And I knew what it was. She saw a bit of herself in Kelly and I couldn’t even begin to think about that because it terrified me.
So, I didn’t think about the coming future. I wouldn’t think of the upcoming weeks when things would get harder. I refused to think of the day when I’d finally hold Kelly’s most precious possession in my hands—her daughter’s heart.
I wouldn’t fail her. I couldn’t.
Still, I selfishly marched myself up to her apartment every day after work, dying for just a drink of her company. Just a small sip. My soul felt parched without it. I was too hungry for her and far too greedy, but I just couldn’t bring myself to stop.
That’s why after work, I went right to her, way more excited than I should have been to sit on a couch next to a woman who wasn’t pregnant with my child. I may have snuck off a bit early just so I could see her. Maybe I’d tuck my leg next to hers and feel her thigh pressed to mine. Maybe her hand would graze my own when she passed the remote and that familiar electric current of connection would zap through me. I’d cradle her face in mine, dying for the taste of her mouth. God, I wanted it. I wanted her. I lived for those small morsels of affection she fed me. I was starved for them. Ravenous for her touch.
Today, I let myself in. I unlocked the door with my key, mostly because I loved to see her face when she was all pissed off at me but totally not. She put on a good show, my girl. My girl. She never said anything about me coming right on in, but she most definitely wanted to. Her fire. Her spark. It burned me and I loved it.
Pushing the door open, I immediately noticed how quiet it was. Usually she had music or the TV or something going. Maybe she’d be banging her drums, but not this time. Dead silence greeted me and I walked in quietly, worried since I was early maybe she was napping.
But no, there she lay on the couch in a pair of black sweat pants, a tight white tank top that was pushed up over her belly and under her breasts, exposing her round stomach.
I paused, stunned. She lay there on her back, her eyes closed, earbuds pressed into her ears, her hands resting on her stomach like she was holding something precious. And she was. That baby was everything to her, and I realized in that moment that because of what she meant to her, the baby indeed meant the same to me.
And then something both beautiful and awful happened. With her eyes closed, her mouth opened and she sang the words that took me back. I was immersed so fully in the past that my breath paused.
“You are my sunshine,” she sang in that sultry and sweet way that I knew she didn’t mean to but couldn’t help.
My stomach dropped. My eyes blurred. My head spun. And before I knew it, I was standing here, my hand pressed over my heart.
Boom, boom.
“You are my sunshine.”
Boom, boom.
She just kept singing and my heart kept beating in rhythm. It was amazing. It was awful.
I felt the way I had that night, only twenty times more, and my upside down, out of focus world tipped right side up and everything became crystal fucking clear.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be this to her and save her daughter’s life. I had to choose.
Bringing my hands close to my face, I studied them, through the sting in my eyes. And they’d never looked so fragile. I’d always thought of them as unfailingly strong and capable, but no, not then. They seemed so small in comparison to the three hearts beating in that room.
I swallowed hard, sick to my stomach, terrified out of my mind.
The last few weeks played in my mind like a movie. Lunches out together. Her sweet heart-shaped face in my hands. Movie nights. Baked cookies. The drum kit. That fucking tie.
I loved her. I loved that baby. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. It shouldn’t have. I’d been lying to myself for weeks, but still the emotion bombarded me.
The moment you realize you’re in love should be a moment of elation. Instead, terror filled me. Because I wasn’t just in love with Kelly; I was in love with that child who carried the heart I’d have to operate on.
The night Kelly had been staring at the drums in the dark. It made sense now. She knew. She knew and I’d somehow missed it. Her terrified “We can’t do this anymore” played on repeat in my mind. She’d tried to warn me. She’d tried to stop this all. I’d been so stupid and blind. So stupidly and blindly in love, I realized now. She wanted me to do the surgery. She trusted me. She’d come to me. Only me.
I clenched my big hands into fists and opened them, repeating the process as I stared down at them. Just these two hands, that’s all I had. I’d have to set my heart aside for theirs.
Two hands, three hearts, and I had to save us all. And to do it, I’d have to make the ultimate sacrifice.
Love.
That Night Ten Years Ago
I was dreaming. Dreaming about playing the drums and Anthony was there, watching me. Looking like he wanted to eat me up. I shredded them and Anthony stared on, looking like he wanted to bend me over the kit and take me from behind. Maybe I wasn’t quite asleep. Maybe I was in the sweet spot between sleep and awake where you can still hear everything around you, but it seems like it’s all a part of your dreams.
A phone rang. Again and again until I popped my eyes open, the bright sunlight pouring through the windows and making me snap my eyes closed again. It was early, not terribly as the sun was pretty high in the sky.
The phone rang again and Anthony grumbled from beside me. We’d stayed up past late and into the wee hours of morning and not just having sex. We’d talked and talked. I’d sung for him. He’d told me his dreams. I’d told him mine.
I took in his sleeping face. I’d thought him beautiful at the club last night, but it in no way compared to his beauty now. Wasn’t beauty a funny thing? I learned in that moment that it really did start on the inside and radiate out because after a night with Anthony, he’d only become more gorgeous. More special. More everything. Just more.
His sleeping face looked especially boyish that morning. And sweet. We’d connected. I’d felt it deep in my skin, and I’d never felt a damn thing that deep. I was just a kid, but I knew something big when I felt it and me and Anthony, we were definitely something monumental.
The phone stopped ringing. I curled my body along the outside of his, the front of my naked thighs to the backs of his. I ran my hand through his soft blond hair. The sun was up. Was this it? Was this magical night over and so were we? I didn’t want that. I’d talk to him. He had to feel the same way. I didn’t know how he couldn’t. We’d shared so much in just one single night. I dreamed of all we’d manage to share in days, months, years to come. It made me smile.
When he woke we would sit down and figure it out. I’d be traveling but not forever. Long-distance relationships were hard, but for Anthony I was willing to give it a try. I hoped he was willing to as well.
The phone picked up ringing again and he stretched, his long legs eating up over half of the bed and covering my own. They were firm and strong with the faintest hint of blond hairs. Even the man�
��s legs were perfection.
He turned toward me, kissing my head. “Be back. I’ll get the phone.” His voice was deeper from sleep and it slid over me like thick molasses. I hoped he didn’t have plans today. I wanted him again already.
I lay here blissed out, feeling drunk on sex and intimacy. I spread my body out in the middle of the bed, stretching every muscle, feeling sore in a very good way. I didn’t think my body had ever been so thoroughly loved. I heard quiet murmurs of Anthony’s voice coming from the kitchen, but couldn’t make out what he was saying.
His footsteps thundered toward the bed and I turned, smiling. “That was quick.”
Picking my clothes up off the floor, he barked out, “You need to go.”
My clothes landed on the bed a foot from me. “What?”
I had to have misunderstood him. Was he throwing me out? A million questions bombarded my brain, but they all told me the same answer. I must have misunderstood him. Surely, he’d felt the same connection I had last night?
“You need to fucking go!” he shouted.
I flinched, grabbing my black dress to cover my breasts. He was scaring me.
He paced the room while I watched on, terrified. Running his hands through his hair roughly, he looked at me. I could only stare, completely stunned.
“Get your fucking clothes on and go.” His face was so pained. Something was wrong.
“Doc,” I said softly, reaching out a hand to him, but he flinched away like the palm of my hand might burn him.
He leaned over and into my face, his height and stature intimidating the hell out of me. “Get dressed and get the fuck out. Now,” he hissed at me and it hit me square in the chest. I felt the tears burn my eyes long before they fell as I frantically squeezed myself back into my tight black dress and scoured the apartment for my panties and shoes while Anthony stormed to the bathroom and slammed the door.
I heard the click of the lock and that was that. He’d shut me out indefinitely. Our night had ended just as it had begun, with a bang.