I walk over and carefully put the baby in her bassinet.
Then I head to my locker to get the bottle of champagne so I can chill it.
Dr. Williston was right when he said I’d know for sure when it was time to celebrate that one great thing.
Chapter Thirty
I checked on Elizabeth again after my shift last night, but she was sleeping. I watched her sleep. I read a magazine. I held the baby.
Then I went home and dreamed of birthday parties and vacations to Disney World. Anniversary trips to Paris. Warm family fires on cold nights.
For years—as far back as I can remember—I’ve only dreamed about one thing: medicine. Going to a good college. Scoring high on the MCAT. Getting into a top med school. Matching at a desirable hospital. Running the ER. Opening my own clinic.
I still have those dreams, only now, they include having someone to go home to. Two someones.
Today, as I make my way to work with a rather large basket in my hands, I’m taking a rare ride on the subway.
“My, what an interesting bouquet of . . . Jell-O?” a woman standing next to me asks.
I smile and offer her my standard line. “Just doing some research.”
“Oh,” she says, nodding as if she understands.
I had to stop at four grocers last night on my way home to get everything I needed. Who knew there were so many flavors we haven’t tried.
I drop the basket off in Elizabeth’s room before rounds. It’s early. I was hoping to sneak in and out without waking her. But when I get there, she’s not in her bed and the bassinet is gone.
I hear the toilet flush and a minute later, she emerges from the bathroom looking refreshed. Glowing even.
“Oh, hi,” she says, smiling.
“Wow,” I say, staring at her.
She looks down and fixes her robe to make sure everything is covered. “Wow, what?”
“You look incredible,” I say, putting the basket on her side table. “I expected exhausted, drained, emotional. But you look great.”
“Thanks. They kept the baby in the nursery all night, only bringing her to me when she needed to eat. It really helped me get some sleep.”
She slowly makes her way back to bed, slightly hunched over with her hands low on her belly as if to hold it in place. I rush over to help her, but she puts out her hand to stop me.
“No. I can do it,” she says.
“Elizabeth,” I admonish her.
“Kyle, I need to be able to do this on my own. Please let me.”
“You don’t have to, you know. Do it on your own.”
Her eyes close briefly as she makes it to the bed and slowly sits herself down. I can tell she’s struggling to lift her legs up and swing them onto the bed. I don’t care what she says, I’m helping.
I walk over and help her with her legs. Then I go wash my hands and put gloves on.
“As long as I’m here, I’ll check your incision.”
I lay her back and pull up the sheet so that when I lift her nightgown, her panties remain covered. I open up the belly binder she’s wearing and remove the gauze over her incision. “It looks good,” I tell her, covering it with new gauze. “The stitches will come out in ten days.”
“How long do I have to wear this binder thing?” she asks, as I pull it back around her and fasten the Velcro.
“That’s up to you. It’s really about your comfort. Most women say they feel like their insides will fall out if they don’t wear it for at least a week. After that, your skin and your muscles start to tighten up again.”
I raise the head of her bed and then toss my gloves in the trash.
“It’s true,” she says. “I feel like I’ve been eviscerated.”
She nods to the basket, smiling. “Is that for me?”
I pick it up and put it on the bed. “Unless junior has acquired the ability to eat solid food, I’m going with yes.”
“Junior?” she says with raised brows.
“Well, you haven’t told me her name yet.”
“She doesn’t have one. I thought I’d live with her for a few days and see what she looks like.”
I laugh. “You think she’ll look like a name? As in, she’ll make a face and you’ll think ‘oh, yeah, she’s a Monica,’ or she’ll snore in her sleep and you’ll think ‘wow, she’s definitely a Lisa’.”
Elizabeth rolls her eyes at me. “I just don’t want to screw it up,” she says. “A name is with you for life. I have to make sure she won’t be made fun of at school. Or that her initials don’t spell something outrageous. Or that I don’t name her something so girly that she won’t be taken seriously as the first explorer on Mars.”
I bite my tongue to keep from laughing again. “First explorer on Mars, eh?”
She shrugs. “It could happen.”
“You’re right, it could. And names are important,” I say. “Just please be sure to Google it to make sure you don’t name her after a porn star or a serial killer.”
Elizabeth laughs, and then winces as she puts a hand on her tender belly. “I promise I’ll do that before making a decision.”
“She’s a beautiful baby. She deserves a beautiful name. Like yours—your name is beautiful.”
“Thanks,” she says sadly, as if she doesn’t agree.
She rifles through all the cups of Jell-O I brought her. “Someone wants to play a game,” she says, smiling.
“Did you know there are nineteen flavors of Jell-O?” I ask. “That’s thirteen flavors we haven’t tried.”
“That’s a lot of ‘Never have I evers’,” she says.
“Well, I have a lot of questions.”
She looks out the window sadly, taking a deep breath. Then she looks down at her tattoo. The tattoo she didn’t bother to cover up again.
“The bracelet is too hard,” she says, when she sees me looking at her wrist. “It would hurt the baby’s head when I hold her.”
“Good call,” I say, staring at some bastard’s scripted name on her wrist, hating him with everything inside me even though I’ve never met the man.
She covers the tattoo with her other hand. “I’m not with him,” she says. “I’ll never be with him again. But I’m not ready to talk about him. Please just give me time.”
I pick up one of the Jell-O containers and read the expiration date. “Looks like we have about three months.”
She sighs with relief.
I, on the other hand, am kicking myself for not pushing a little harder. I promised myself I was going to ask for answers. But maybe when her child isn’t even a day old yet is too soon.
A nurse wheels the baby in. “This little one is hungry,” she says.
“My cue to leave,” I say. “I’ll check on you later, Elizabeth.”
“Egg rolls!” she calls out after me.
I turn back around and cock my head at her in question.
“It’s Meatloaf night.” She scrunches her nose in disgust. “I’d kill for some Sal’s.”
“Are you asking me on a date, Ms. Smith?”
The nurse chuckles as she picks up the baby from the bassinet.
Elizabeth shrugs as her pinky finger finds its way to her mouth.
I leave her room with a huge damn smile on my face.
Chapter Thirty-one
Ten hours have passed, and I’m so busy I haven’t found any time to check on Elizabeth. I even got to deliver another baby today. This time, I was the one who made the incision and Dr. Redman supervised.
I’m glad Elizabeth wasn’t my first. I’m confident in my abilities and all, but still, the thought of pressing too hard with the scalpel and cutting into a perfectly formed baby is more than a little daunting.
Next week, I’ll be back in the ER. But I know I’ll miss obstetrics. What are the odds that I was in the ER when Elizabeth first came to the hospital and then I was doing my OB rotation when she got admitted a week later?
It makes me think back to one of the first conversations we had about fat
e and how we both seem to think all things happen for a reason. One thing’s for sure. I was meant to meet her. I was meant to be her doctor. And I was damn sure meant to fall for her.
It’s more than the obvious fact that she needs someone. She needs me. And I never knew it until just a few days ago, but I need her. And now, in some strange way . . . I need the baby, too.
After my shift, I pick up some takeout from Sal’s and head back to the hospital. When I get to Elizabeth’s room, I find her asleep.
I put the bags down and walk over to the bed to study her. Despite the fact that she must be exhausted, I see she took the time to put on makeup. For me? She’s beautiful without it, but I know the light shade of blue shadow will bring out the color of her eyes. Her pink lips look even more luscious than normal.
Her lips. I stare at them. I’ve wanted to kiss them for so long. Maybe even since I first met her. I have to hold myself back every day. I work here. It would be unprofessional. Then again, I’m not on duty now. Doctors have every right to visit their loved ones when not on shift. And they have every right to kiss them.
Don’t they?
I take in the dark, thick stripe of the roots of her hair, hoping that maybe she’ll let it grow out into her natural brown color. I can’t help myself when I reach over and take a lock of her hair between my fingers.
“Hey, you,” she says, catching me worshiping her.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I was asleep for a few hours. The baby will probably want to eat soon. They took her to the nursery to let me rest.”
I nod to the bags of Chinese food. “Then maybe we should feed her mom first.”
She smiles, shaking her head in wonder. “It still sounds so strange, me being a mom. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.”
“Well, you are, and you will. And you’re going to be a great mother, Elizabeth.”
I put all her favorite dishes on the tray table and move it over her bed. I’ve learned what she likes and what she doesn’t. And as we eat, I lean over and pick the slices of watercress out of her food. She smiles every time I do it.
“When do you think I’ll be released?” she asks.
“Day after tomorrow,” I tell her. “Since you delivered late in the day on Monday, we’ll keep you that extra night just to make sure you’re okay.”
“Oh, good.”
Good why? Because she gets to see me? Or because she doesn’t have to go back to . . . wherever she’s going back to. I shudder at the thought.
“It’s my day off, you know, the day you get released.” I push some food around with my chopsticks. “I was hoping you’d let me take you home. Get you settled.”
She shakes her head sadly. “No, Kyle. I don’t want you to take me home.”
“I don’t care where you live, Elizabeth. Don’t you know that by now? You don’t have to be embarrassed. But you’re going to need someone to help you. Do you have stairs? You can’t possibly navigate them with the baby in your condition.”
“No, Kyle. I can’t. I’m sorry. Don’t worry. There’s an elevator.”
I’m not sure why that makes me feel better. Maybe because I’ve imagined her living in a building without electricity and running water. Still, even slums have elevators.
“If you won’t let me take you to your house, then let me take you to mine,” I say, my heart thundering in my chest.
She looks at me in surprise. “Why would you do that, Kyle? You’ve only known me a few weeks. I have a baby. A baby that will cry a lot. And spit up everywhere.”
“Because I want to. Because I have a spare bedroom for the baby—for you. Because I believe we were meant to meet, Elizabeth. Because I . . .”
I can’t bring myself to say it. I’ve never said it before. Plus, I think I’ve already freaked her out enough for one day.
“Thank you, but no,” she says, picking at her food.
“Why, Elizabeth?”
She pushes what’s left of her dinner away. “Because everyone wants something in return.”
“What?”
“Well, hello, Mommy,” the nurse says, pushing the bassinet through her doorway. “Ready to feed this little one?”
“Just think about it, please, Elizabeth?” I ask as I clear away her dinner.
The nurse hands her the baby and then glances at me. “Would you like some privacy, Elizabeth?” she asks.
Elizabeth looks up at me shyly. “Uh, I don’t know, I’m . . .”
“I’ll go wash up in your bathroom,” I say, getting up to cross the room.
I stay in there longer than necessary, giving her time to get the baby situated. I hope she knows she doesn’t have to be embarrassed to breastfeed in front of me.
When I come out of the bathroom, I see that the nurse has closed the door to give her privacy. I stand across the room, leaning against the wall to give her some space.
“I think I’m getting pretty good at this,” she says, looking down at her daughter.
“You’re a natural,” I say.
She nods at the chair next to the bed. “You don’t have to stay over there, Kyle. I was being silly. You’re a doctor. You see this all the time.”
I resume my seat in the chair next to the bed, trying not to stare at her as she feeds her daughter, but finding it completely mesmerizing at the same time.
“Tell me about your day,” she says. “Anything to take my mind off the fact that I’m half naked and you can see my boob.”
I laugh along with her.
“Well, I got to do my first solo C-section from start to finish. I guess Dr. Redman was impressed by what she saw when I helped out with you.”
“Kyle, that’s fantastic. I’m glad I could be your test case.”
I frown. “You weren’t my test case, Elizabeth. I never would have assisted in your surgery if I didn’t think I could do it flawlessly.”
“I know. That’s not what I meant. You’re a good doctor, Kyle. The best.”
“Thanks. That means a lot to me.”
I spend the next ten minutes telling her all about it as I watch her burp the baby and then switch to the other side. When she’s done feeding her, Elizabeth asks, “Do you want to burp her?”
“Sure,” I say. “I never liked this shirt very much anyway.”
She giggles and hands me a burp cloth. “Use this. I love that shirt, it really brings out the green in your eyes.”
I carefully pick up the baby and rest her on my shoulder as I lightly pat her back.
“You like green shirts,” I say. “Duly noted.”
“I like your eyes when you wear scrubs, too,” she says. “The blue brings out the blue in your eyes. In fact, your eyes are amazing. They seem to change colors based on what you wear.”
It’s the eyes. Girls have always loved them. It’s one thing I got from my mother that my brothers don’t also possess.
“Technically, my eyes are hazel. But yes, they do seem to take on the color of my clothing, especially if I’m wearing brown, green, or blue.”
“I love that. I wish she would have eyes like that,” she says, nodding at her daughter.
I wish she would too. I wish she had my eyes.
Elizabeth seems to understand what I’m thinking. Or maybe I’m understanding what she was insinuating. Either way, we stare at each other as I bounce and pat, bounce and pat.
She reaches over into the Sal’s bag and pulls out a fortune cookie. “I’m opening mine,” she says with a smile. This has become the favorite part of our dinners together.
After she eats the cookie, I watch her face as she reads her fortune. “Two days from now, tomorrow will be yesterday.” She studies the slip of paper. “Wow, that’s so simplistic, yet so deep.”
I laugh. “That guy in Boston must do a lot of Googling.”
“Want me to do yours?” she asks, pulling another cookie from the bag.
“No. I want to open my own,” I say, laying the baby down in her waiting arms
and then sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. “Plus, isn’t that against the rules, to open someone else’s fortune?”
“What are you, ten?” she asks, giggling.
“Hey, don’t come between a guy and his fortunes. When I was seven, I got a fortune cookie that told me I would heal the world. Maybe that’s why I’m a doctor. What if someone else had opened my fortune?”
She holds one out to me. “Well, now that I know your fortunes dictate your destiny, I wouldn’t dream of interfering.”
I open the cookie and pop it in my mouth before I glance at the words. I can’t believe what I’m reading. I look at Elizabeth. I look at the baby. I look back at the little slip of paper.
“Well, what does it say?” she asks.
“Uh, it says, ‘Your future is right in front of you’.”
Her mouth hangs open. Just like mine is.
I look into her eyes. The damn thing is right. I swear I can see my future in them.
I want to kiss her. No—I need to kiss her. I need to kiss her like I need air.
So I do.
I lean over and take her face in my hands. She looks at me with baited breath. She knows what I’m about to do. Her eyes close and her lips part ever so slightly. It’s an invitation. One I don’t hesitate to accept.
When my lips meet hers, I wonder why I ever wasted time kissing anyone else. Because these are the lips that were made for me. They’re plump. They’re soft. They’re small. And they fit perfectly against mine.
I kiss her top lip. I kiss her bottom lip. My tongue comes out and requests entry into her mouth that she’s quick to allow. A faint mewl escapes her throat as our tongues meet and mingle. The tiny sound travels through me and goes all the way to my groin. But not before taking up residence in my heart.
Our kisses are gentle, not demanding. They’re soft. Meaningful. They speak more between us than any words ever have.
I kiss her unlike I’ve ever kissed anyone before. Because it feels unlike any other kiss. It feels like the first. It feels like the last. It feels like nothing I’ve ever felt and nothing I’ll feel again.
When we’re out of breath, our lips part, but our foreheads meet as we breathe into each other.
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