An hour later, my eyes are bugging out after reading everything I can to brush up on hysterectomies when my phone vibrates.
Baylor: Do you have time for a quick coffee?
Me: Meet me in the courtyard. I’m buying.
Five minutes later, I hand Baylor her cup of coffee. Milk and no sugar, just like all the Mitchell sisters take it. “Thanks for bringing Elizabeth those books. I know she’s a huge fan.”
“No problem. She’s incredible. Nothing like I thought she’d be.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Well, I know how Mallory described her, but we all know Mallory is a saint disguised as a school teacher. I guess I expected her to be, I don’t know, some shrinking violet who was cowering in the corner wearing nothing but rags. But she’s quite the opposite. She’s funny, beautiful, and very smart.”
“Smart?” I cock my head to the side. “I mean, yeah, of course she’s smart, but what makes you say so? She’s pretty closed off.”
Baylor laughs. “Yeah, I sensed that. But when she was talking about my books, it became obvious she knows a lot about literature. Turns out she has a degree in it. That and elementary education.”
My unbelieving eyes snap to hers. “She does? And she told you about it?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t she?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t ever give personal details. I have no idea where she’s from or where she lives or if she is or was married. Nothing.”
She raises her eyebrows at me. “Are those things patients usually tell their doctors, Kyle?”
Shit.
“No, I guess not. But I’ve had to spend quite a bit of time with her since she’s my only patient. And getting her to reveal personal details is harder than giving a bald man a haircut.”
“Well, she didn’t tell me much more than that. She went to the University of Maryland, but that’s about all I know. When I asked about the baby’s father, she clammed up. I didn’t want to pry. But I think there’s a story there.”
I nod. “I know there’s one.”
“She really hasn’t had anyone else but us visit?”
“Nope. She’s been here for a week. Not one friend or family member. She literally was admitted with only the clothes on her back and a few personal items in her purse.”
“There is no way that girl is homeless, Kyle. I can’t believe she is.”
“She says she’s not. And she does have a job. Although I’m not sure how she’ll be able to walk dogs with a baby.”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” she says. “She could always push a stroller, or put the baby in one of those Snugli things.” Her face suddenly lights up. “Oh, my gosh, we should have a baby shower for her.”
“Did you not hear the part where she won’t give out her address? How do you expect to throw her a shower?”
She jumps up and down in her seat. “Not after the baby comes, silly. Here, in the hospital. Think about it. She has nothing and I have a ton of stuff my kids have outgrown. I mean, three is enough—just ask Gavin.” She laughs. “Mallory said Elizabeth was okay accepting her maternity hand-me-downs, why not used baby items? Some of this stuff is really quality stuff, Kyle, and it’s just sitting in my garage. It’s perfect. All the girls could come and we could each wrap some of the things. We’d make a day of it.”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure she’d go for it, Baylor. She doesn’t like hand-outs. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“What, you’ve tried to give her money? Of course she won’t take money, Kyle. No self-respecting woman would. And we just won’t tell her. We’ll spring it on her. Later, after we’ve gotten to know her better. How long is she here?”
“She’s here until the baby comes,” I say. “If all goes as planned, that won’t be for another couple of weeks. But if her condition changes, it could be any time.”
“But she’ll have to be here for at least a day or two after the baby comes, right?”
I nod. “She’ll have to deliver by C-section, so it’ll be two or three days.”
“Perfect. Why don’t we schedule it for two weeks from now and if she has the baby by then, we’ll just do it before she gets discharged. But let’s keep it on the down low.”
I eye her in amusement. “The down low?”
“Yeah, it’ll be fun. A clandestine operation. You know, figure out her favorite foods and stuff so we can do it right.”
“Chinese,” I say.
“Huh?”
“Her favorite food is Chinese. Sal’s Chinese to be specific. She loves the egg rolls. And the Lo Mein. And chopsticks.”
“And yet she doesn’t tell you anything.” Baylor studies me curiously. “Yup, definitely a story there.”
I shake my head. “What? No. No story there.”
“Oh, come on. Doctor falls in love with homeless pregnant patient. That’s good stuff.”
I choke on my coffee. “Better get your head out of the clouds, Baylor. Life isn’t always a romance novel, you know.”
“No, it’s not. But you have to admit, there’s a premise there. She’s young and beautiful. You’re young and handsome. You are saving her life.”
“You forgot one very important detail,” I say, stating the obvious. “She’s pregnant, Baylor. That means there is a husband or a boyfriend or a baby daddy. Even an ex one of those poses a problem.”
“Exactly,” she says. “No romance novel is good without a crisis.”
I roll my eyes at her. “How about you stick to your day job and get out of the matchmaking business?”
“Fine.” She blows out a conceding breath. “I have a shower to plan, anyway. I’m going to call the girls. I’d expect to see more of us over the next few weeks. I think Elizabeth might be more likely to accept our generosity if we become better friends.” She points a finger at me. “Don’t you dare say anything to her.”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Baylor gathers up her things and we hug before she walks away. I watch her walk through the doors, grateful that people such as her exist in this world.
Chapter Nineteen
I wheel the ultrasound machine down the hallway and find it hard to contain my smile. It’s the best part of Elizabeth’s day. Those few moments when she can see her baby. Every time we do a sonogram it’s like the first one she’s ever seen. She gets all teary-eyed.
Every time.
And it’s become a joke about her not wanting to see what may or may not be between the baby’s legs. Although that’s not what we’re looking for, we’re looking closely at the placenta. But I still take a few extra minutes and show her a hand or a foot. Yesterday, the baby looked to be sucking her thumb.
It’s the only time Elizabeth talks about the baby. It makes me wonder if she’s scared about becoming a mom. Or maybe she’s scared about what’s waiting out there for her when she leaves the hospital. An old apartment with broken-down appliances perhaps. Or maybe it’s drafty in the winter. Hell, maybe it isn’t even heated, although I’m pretty sure that’s against the law. But slumlords these days don’t really give a shit what squalor their tenants have to live in as long as they’re making a buck.
Damn it. I wish she would let me help her.
I see someone walking around Elizabeth’s room as I make my approach. It’s Skylar Mitchell. I park the ultrasound machine outside the doorway and lean against the door jam, quietly observing them before I go in.
Elizabeth takes a bite of something from a Mitchell’s To Go container. She rolls her eyes to the heavens. “Oh, my gosh, this is the best lasagna I’ve ever tasted. It’s my favorite homemade meal, you know.”
“Really?” Skylar says with a huge smile, winking at me when she sees me in the doorway. “Imagine that.”
“Imagine what?” Elizabeth says, shoveling another huge bite into her mouth.
“Nothing. Now that I know you love lasagna, I’ll have to bring by some more next week. If that’s okay with you.”
/>
“Can you bring your chef, too?” Elizabeth asks. “I’d like to keep him. Hospital food sucks.”
“Speaking of hospital food, what’s with all the Jell-O?” Skylar asks, pointing to her side table.
Elizabeth laughs. “Nothing. Just a game I’m hoping to play later.”
“A game? With Jell-O?” Skylar puts her hand up to stop Elizabeth from speaking. “Wait! I don’t want to know. Sounds kinky. But somehow I think I like you even more now.”
“It’s not like that.” Elizabeth giggles and damn it if the sound doesn’t make my heart skip a beat like a teenage girl at a rock concert.
She’s hoping to play the game with me? But she hates the game. It seems like every time, I either get too personal or bring up something painful.
She pushes the lasagna away. “I’m stuffed,” she says. “I wish I could eat more. It’s a shame to let it go to waste. I’ll bet if Kyle were here, he’d box it up and take it to some homeless person around the corner.”
Skylar looks up at me and smiles. “I bet he would.”
They are talking about me. I feel like I should enter the room, but at the same time, I think Elizabeth is more open with the girls than she is me, and I don’t want to miss an opportunity to learn something about her.
“He did that with some Chinese food he brought me the other night.”
“That’s Kyle. He wants to feed the world. And cure it of disease.”
Elizabeth starts chewing on her pinky nail again. She only does that when she’s nervous.
“Is he . . . a good guy?” she asks hesitantly. “I mean, he’s a doctor, so that probably means that inherently he’s good, wanting to help people and all. But is he good? Like deep down?”
Skylar puts her hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “You’d be hard pressed to find a better man anywhere.”
Elizabeth nods.
Skylar stands up and grabs her purse. “I’m off to get my hair done. Griffin is coming back in town after being gone for a week on a photo shoot. I want to look my very best.”
“I love your hair,” Elizabeth tells her.
“Thanks.” Skylar studies Elizabeth for a second. “You know, I might be able to help you out with your roots if you want. I have a great hairdresser who makes house calls.” She pulls a piece of paper out of her purse and hands it to Elizabeth. “Here, write down what brand and color you’ve been using and I’ll give it to her to match. If you want, I can see if she can come with me when I bring next week’s lasagna.”
“You don’t have to do that, Skylar. It can wait until I get home.”
“I know I don’t. And I also know how tired you’ll be once the baby comes. This may be your last chance for months to have a touch up. So, unless you plan on going full-on brunette . . .” She nods to the paper.
Elizabeth smiles and writes something down.
I feel like a brick wall just slammed into my chest.
She’s a fucking brunette?
Someone drops something in the hallway behind me and Elizabeth finally notices I’m standing here. “Oh, hi, Kyle. Skylar just brought me the best lasagna. Have you ever had Mitchell’s lasagna?”
Skylar and I share a look. “Once or twice,” I say. Or a hundred times.
“I’m out of here,” Skylar says, stopping to kiss me on her way by.
I nod in thanks as I wheel the ultrasound machine into Elizabeth’s room.
“Will that thing see all the lasagna I just ate?” she jokes. “Because it might be embarrassing. I ate a lot.”
“You’re allowed to,” I say. “You are eating for two.”
“I don’t know.” She looks down at her leftovers. “More like three or four if you ask me.”
I stare at the dark roots beginning to show in the part of her hair, wondering how I’ve never noticed this before. She looks like a blonde with her sun-kissed face and striking blue eyes. She looks good as a blonde. Then again, I thought she looked good in blue when it wasn’t her best color at all.
I find myself trying to picture her as a brunette—but I stop. I stop when I realize I’m getting dangerously close to that line again.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Are you kidding?” She squirms in the bed like it’s Christmas morning.
I smile as I unhook her from the monitor and then squirt the gel onto her abdomen.
“Don’t—”
“Show the salami or the cheeseburger,” I say, finishing her words for her. The same words she says every day when we do this.
Last week on my day off, the resident assigned to her saw the note in her chart and made a joke about not showing her the salami or the cheeseburger. On an ultrasound, a girl’s parts resemble the layering of a burger. I’d call it more of a hamburger myself, but whatever.
I quickly locate the placenta and make sure it’s not tearing. Everything looks good from a medical standpoint.
“What’s it going to be today?” I ask. “Hand, foot, face?”
“Yes,” she says, with a hopeful grin.
Not able to deny this woman anything, I begin from the top down. The baby is opening and closing her mouth as if she’s chewing. “Looks like he or she wants the lasagna,” I say.
Elizabeth laughs, causing her belly to jiggle which in turn has the baby moving.
I find one of her arms and work down toward the hand. I know how much Elizabeth likes to count the fingers. She raises her hand to the monitor and traces the outline of her tiny fingers.
“Still five?” I ask.
She rolls her teary eyes at me before she looks back at her daughter.
But I’m still looking at her. Jesus Christ, she’s beautiful. The way she looks at her baby. I’ve never seen so much love on someone’s face before. I try to look away, but I can’t.
The baby starts to jerk around.
“Baby’s got the hiccups,” she says, laughing. “Must’ve eaten too much.”
I find the baby’s head again and we watch her jump around on the monitor.
“Can you feel it?” she asks.
“No. But I can see it on the monitor.”
“You have to feel it. It’s the best feeling. Here, give me your other hand.”
I hold my free hand out and she takes it, placing it on the left side of her belly. My eyes close momentarily as flesh touches flesh and I feel her taut skin under the palm of my hand. When I feel the tiny jerking movements, my eyes fly open to meet hers.
“Pretty great, huh?” she asks.
Life. There is a new life under my hand. A girl who might someday look just like her mother. She could have short brunette hair, falling just past her chin in soft waves. She could have stunning blue eyes that can draw any man’s stare like a tractor beam. She could have soft hands and perfect pink toenails and full pouty lips. She could have that curve to her smile that lets you know you are important. She could have that giggle that brings you to your knees.
Suddenly, the walls of the room start closing in on me. My heart starts pounding. I can’t breathe. I’m suffocating.
I pull my hand away and take the wand off her belly. I hand her a towel to wipe the gel off. “I’m sorry. I just remembered I have somewhere to be.”
“Oh.” She looks sadly at her tray table where the cups of Jell-O sit untouched. “I was hoping . . . never mind, you need to go.”
“Yeah, I need to go.”
I walk out of her room, not even bothering to bring the ultrasound machine with me. I need to go. I need to go like I’ve never needed to go before.
I need to go, because what I just experienced in that room was something I’ve never felt.
What I just experienced in that room was so wrong I can’t even begin to list all the ways.
But how come what I just experienced in that room feels nothing but so fucking right?
Chapter Twenty
Hot air rolls across the nape of my neck as I fill out a chart at the table in the resident’s lounge. “I’ve got a few free minutes. You?”
I
don’t have to look up to see that it’s Gina. I recognize her whisper, the touch of her hand on my shoulder. Her scent. I close my eyes and sigh. This is the right call, Kyle.
I nod before turning around. “Let me drop off my chart. Meet you there in a second.”
She smiles before she heads out the door. It’s a nice smile. Gina has perfect white teeth. Almost too perfect. Everything about Gina is perfect for me. She’s a doctor. A second-year. She understands my schedule and the demands of my time. She’s driven by her job like I am. She doesn’t have time for things like watching baseball games and reading romance novels. Let alone time for kids. As far as I know, she doesn’t even want kids. I don’t want kids. Not yet anyway.
We’re perfect for each other.
Yes, this is the right call.
I drop my chart off at the nurses’ station and head to the on-call room. When I arrive, Gina is already undressed and under the covers. I lock the door and strip myself naked on the way to her. I rip off the sheet and gaze down at her body—her large breasts that don’t even fit in my hands. Her trim waist. Her toned thighs. Her triangle of brown curls.
It’s there where I focus my attention. I catch myself wondering if Elizabeth has brown curls as well. Maybe not as well manicured as Gina, but brown none the less. I quickly look up at Gina’s face—if for no other reason but to remind myself exactly who I’m here with.
I climb on the bed with her and palm her breasts. She pulls my head down until our lips meet. She kisses me hard and with more feeling than she’s ever kissed me. And I let her. I let her because this is the right call.
“You feel so good,” she says, squirming underneath me. “God, I needed this. I’ve missed you this week.”
“Mmm,” I mumble, working my mouth down to her chest so I can suck on her nipples. She grinds her hips into me from below as I take one into my mouth while I pinch the other. My free hand traces a line down her flat stomach, down past her patch of curls to find her wet and ready. I slip in one finger, then another as she moans under my manipulation.
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