A cry from the baby pulls us apart, and I look down on Elizabeth’s beautiful daughter. Then I lean down and kiss the soft brown curls on her head.
A noise coming from the door makes me turn my head in its direction. And when I do, I see Gina standing in the open doorway. The door I know was closed moments ago.
I try to figure out how long she’s been standing there. But I quickly get my answer. The look on her face and the disapproval in her eyes say it all. They let me know the line has been crossed. Hell, it’s been shattered. I’m so far past the line, I can’t even see it in my fucking wake.
Chapter Thirty-two
“Are you in trouble?” Elizabeth asks, when I come to examine her the next day.
“No. I’m pretty sure Gina won’t say anything. Plus, I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t on duty when I came to see you last night.”
“Oh. Good.”
“I brought you something,” I say, pulling a small bag out of my lab coat pocket.
“Kyle, you’ve done too much already.”
I hand her the bag. “Just open it, Elizabeth.”
She looks inside hesitantly, as if she thinks it might be an engagement ring or something. Then she pulls out the contents and holds it up to me in confusion.
“It’s a wristband,” I tell her. “People use it for working out. It’s soft, so it won’t hurt the baby.”
Her face breaks into a smile as she pulls it on her left wrist. She admires how it covers the tattoo.
“And it’s pink,” she says. “My favorite color.”
“I know.”
She looks up at me. “You do?”
“You tend to favor the pink pajamas, so I kind of figured.”
“Thank you. That was really thoughtful.”
The baby makes a noise in her bassinet and I walk over to see her. “How’s she doing today?”
“She’s great. She seems more aware today. I was staring at her before you came in. It’s incredible how she’s such a little person.”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a baby with so much hair,” I say, admiring her soft fine curls. “And with those long eyelashes, you’d better watch out for this one, she’s gonna break some hearts.”
Elizabeth laughs. “I know,” she says. “I’m already jealous of those lashes. I always wanted long eyelashes like my brother, but I was never lucky enough to have them.”
My eyes snap to hers. “You have a brother?”
“Uh . . .” She glances over at the baby and then she looks sad. “Did. I did have one.”
She closes her eyes and leans back onto her pillow.
I sit down on the bed. “Elizabeth—”
“I can’t talk about it,” she says, huffing a deep sigh out of her nose.
I take her hand, wanting to console her for a brother I never knew she had. Because I know nothing about her. Her family. Her past. But it occurs to me that it doesn’t really matter. It occurs to me that what happened in her past is just that, the past. The only thing I want from her is her future.
“Have you thought about what I asked you yesterday?” I ask.
Her eyes open and with the way she’s looking at me, I already know what the answer is. And damn it if it doesn’t make my heart ache.
“Elizabeth, before you say anything, just hear me out. Leave here with me tomorrow. Let me take you to my place. Just so you can see it. Check it out. See if it would work for you and the baby. You don’t have to make any commitments today. And I promise, if it’s not what you want, I’ll put you and the baby in a cab and send you back to your place.”
She looks over at the baby and studies her. I can see the struggle going on behind her eyes. She’s wondering if I’m doing this just for the baby. Out of pity. But then she’s probably wondering that even if she is a charity case, shouldn’t she do what’s best for her child?
I squeeze her hand. “I want this. I want you. I want her. And, Elizabeth, based on that kiss, I’m pretty sure you want me, too. But we can take it slow. I’ll give you all the space you need. I’ll be working most of the time anyway. My building is nice. It’s safe. Please, just come take a look.”
She looks down at our entwined hands and slowly nods. It’s not a happy nod. It’s not an excited nod. It’s a nod of acceptance. Defeat even.
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll come for a look. But no promises.”
I want to jump off the bed and pump my fist in the air. But I don’t. Because although this might be a fist-pumping moment for me, it looks to be anything but that for Elizabeth.
Instead, I lean down and place a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you,” I say. “It will all work out, Elizabeth. I promise.”
The door to the room swings open and Abby walks in with a folder of papers.
“Your discharge papers,” she says, handing them to Elizabeth. “And the mother/parent worksheet you need to complete for the birth certificate. If you can get them all filled out today, it will help things run smoothly for your discharge tomorrow afternoon.”
Elizabeth stares at the paperwork long after Abby leaves the room. She leafs through the pages looking carefully at each one. She holds up one of the discharge forms. “Is this your address?”
I look at it. “Yes. They got that from the admissions form. Remember?”
“Oh.” She rifles through a few more pages. “This is a lot of stuff.”
“It’s mostly after-care instructions for you and the baby. Abby or one of the other nurses will go over it all with you before you leave. Those are just reminders.”
She looks down at the application for a birth certificate. “Do I have to fill this out?”
“Yes. The baby needs a birth certificate. But if you still haven’t picked a name, that’s okay, leave it blank. Once you pick a name, just come back and tell the hospital and they can submit it for you without charge for up to one year.”
“There are so many questions,” she says, looking it over.
“You can use my address if you want. It’s fine. Even if you don’t end up staying with me.”
She nods.
“You really haven’t thought of a name yet?” I ask, lacing my fingers through hers.
“It’s not easy,” she says. “It needs to be perfect.”
Someone clears their throat behind us and we turn to see Gina standing in the doorway.
“Why don’t you let Dr. Stone pick the name? After all, he’s paying for all this,” she says, waving her hand around Elizabeth’s hospital room.
Oh, fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Elizabeth drops my hand like it burned her. “He’s what?”
“Oh, sorry,” Gina says, not looking it in the least. “I figured with you being discharged tomorrow, he’d have told you.”
“Gina, get out,” I say. “And close the door behind you.”
She shrugs and turns around to leave.
When I look at Elizabeth, there are tears running down her cheeks. And tension tightens the delicate features of her face. I reach out for her, but she pulls away.
“I’m sorry,” I say, not knowing if I should be mad at Gina or myself. “I should have told you. But I didn’t want you to think I saw you as a charity case, because that is not what this is about.”
“What is this about, Kyle?”
The door opens again and Baylor, Skylar and Piper walk in with flowers and food.
Elizabeth quickly wipes her face and pastes on a smile as she greets them.
I get up off the bed. “I’m glad you guys are here,” I tell them. “I’ve got to wrap up a few cases before my shift is over.”
I hug the three of them and then turn back to Elizabeth. “I’ll come back later? To say goodnight?”
She shakes her head softly. “No, that’s okay. You’ve had a long shift,” she says. “After dinner with these guys, I’m going to be pretty tired. I’ll just see you tomorrow, okay?”
I want to argue, but not in front of everyone. She’s pissed. And we didn’t
get a chance to talk it out. Maybe it’s better to let her sleep on it. Everything will be okay tomorrow. When she comes to my place, everything will be alright. I’ll make sure of it.
Then I get an idea. I pull Baylor aside and tell her my plan.
Chapter Thirty-three
Heading to the hospital this afternoon, I can’t help my smile when I pass by young families walking their kids to school. Or pushing a baby in a stroller. Or stopping to get a breakfast burrito from a street vendor.
I try to imagine what it’ll be like for us one day. If she decides to live with me, that is.
I spent hours this morning trying to make everything perfect so Elizabeth will have no choice but to agree to stay with me. Gavin and I moved all the stuff from his and Baylor’s garage into my spare room. There is a crib, a changing table, and one of those gliding chairs.
On one side of the room, I put a futon that could be used as a bed for Elizabeth if she’s uncomfortable sleeping in mine. I didn’t want to presume. After all, we’ve only just kissed. And we have never talked about us having a relationship. But the looks, the banter, the way we are with each other—they all seem to confirm what neither of us has come out and said.
I know she might still be upset with me. When I talked to Baylor late last night, she told me she could sense something was wrong. Elizabeth gave Baylor the tablet back, insisting she wouldn’t have time to use it with the baby. Baylor wrote it off as post-partum depression. Maybe that’s part of it, but deep down, I know I’m the cause of Elizabeth’s sadness.
I just hope after she sees everything I’ve done, she’ll realize how serious I am. She’s not a charity case. I would never look at her as such.
I stop in the residents’ lounge to grab the bottle of champagne from the refrigerator. I carry it, two plastic champagne glasses, and a giant stuffed bear with a large pink bow around its neck up the elevator to floor seven.
People look at me and smile.
“Congratulations,” one of the elevator passengers says.
“It’s a girl, huh?” asks another.
“Thank you. Yes, it’s a girl.”
I don’t tell them it’s not my baby. Hell, I practically feel like she’s mine anyway. I delivered her. I’ve held her, burped her, rocked her to sleep. I’m already in love with her and I don’t even know her. I laugh to myself. Because I could say the very same thing about her mother.
I can’t wait to bring them home with me.
I smile at how my whole world is about to change. How it changed a month ago, when Elizabeth first walked into the ER.
As I make my way down the long hallway, something feels off. Nurses are looking at me oddly as I pass their station. I quicken my steps to get to Elizabeth’s room, but when I arrive, everything’s wrong.
There is no bassinet. No stroller in the corner. No balloons or flowers. No collection of Chinese proverbs on the side table.
No Elizabeth.
An orderly excuses himself around me with a bucket of water and a mop.
“Where the hell are they?” I ask, as if he’ll know the answer.
He shrugs at me and continues his work.
Abby comes up behind me. “Dr. Stone?”
“Where is she?” I ask.
“Elizabeth was discharged this morning,” she says.
I shake my head in confusion. “She wasn’t supposed to be discharged until late this afternoon.”
“Elizabeth asked to leave early and Dr. Anders signed off on it,” she says. “She said she would follow up with her own pediatrician in a day or two for the tests we didn’t get to complete due to her early release.”
“But . . . where did she go? Was anyone with her?”
“I don’t think so,” she says. “And I suppose she went home. Where else would she go?”
“How could you let her leave without anyone to help her?”
Abby scolds me with her stare. “That’s not our job, Dr. Stone. She was healing nicely. The baby was doing well. There was no medical reason to keep her. She’d already long passed the forty-eight-hour mark. Don’t worry, I’m sure they will be fine.”
They won’t be fine, I want to yell at her. I want to wring her neck for allowing Elizabeth to leave.
Abby doesn’t understand what she may have done, allowing her to go back to some crack house or shelter . . . or to him.
But I know it’s not Abby’s fault. It may not be anyone’s fault but mine.
I lied to Elizabeth. I paid for her hospital stay, and then I lied about it. How could we build a relationship when it began on a bed of lies? Why didn’t I tell her sooner? It’s not like she could have left, she was on strict bed rest. She wouldn’t have run back then and risk hurting her baby. Not like she ran now.
I’m such an idiot.
I never should have left last night. I should have come back after my shift and made her listen. Hell, I should have slept here. I would have slept here had I known what was at stake.
I put everything down on the plastic mattress of her empty bed. I run my hands through my hair. Then I pull out my phone and dial Elizabeth’s number.
I know she won’t answer. But at least I can leave her a voicemail. Try to explain things. Appeal to her motherly instincts. I’ll leave a hundred messages if that’s what it takes to get through to her.
When it rings, however, I hear a noise in the room. I follow the sound over to the trashcan.
Shit.
I reach down and pull out Elizabeth’s phone.
Then I rifle through the rest of the contents of the trash. The birth certificate application. The Nighthawks tickets. And Jell-O.
Lots and lots of Jell-O.
Chapter Thirty-four
Six months later . . .
“Tonight’s the night,” Cameron says as we walk through the halls of the hospital. “I’m going to tell Gina I love her.”
“Seriously?” I stop walking and think about what he’s saying. They’ve been joined at the hip for five months now, I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. “I think that’s great, Cam.”
“Do you?” he asks.
I pat him on the back. “Of course, I do. Gina and I haven’t been together for a long time. I told you back then it was all good. Plus, I owe you big time. When you guys started hooking up, it took a lot of the heat off me. I’m just glad we can all still be friends.”
He studies me. “I know you are. But I’ve always wondered if you regret pushing her away. Especially after Elizabeth split.”
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut at the mention of her name. I start walking again.
“Hey, man. I’m sorry,” Cameron says. “I didn’t mean to bring her up. I know it’s a sore spot with you. I know you’ve been trying hard to move on.”
“It is what it is,” I tell him. “It’s all good, Cam. Go have a great night with Gina.”
On my way to the cafeteria, I think of how I am truly happy for him. For them. Gina and I were never right for one another. We got each other through some stressful times, and for that, I’m grateful.
I was pissed at her for weeks. I blamed her for Elizabeth running away. But in time, I forgave her. After all, I was the one who lied. I was the one who crossed the line.
Before I’m finished with my meal, I get paged back to the ER.
Diane hands me a chart. “Dr. Stone, we have a young man with an open wound in curtain six. Man versus Cujo.”
I open the curtain to find a nurse setting up a procedure tray.
I look at the chart to see the patient’s name. “Mr. Howard, I’m Dr. Stone. It says here you’ve suffered a dog bite.”
He nods. “Danger of the job,” he says. “I walk dogs.”
I turn my head to the side and study him. I can’t help but think about her. Elizabeth. I want to ask him if he knows her. Maybe all dog walkers hang out in the same circles.
If she’s still doing it, that is.
I’ve looked. I’ve spent hours upon hours walking the streets o
f New York looking for her. I’ve followed other dog walkers, run up on every woman pushing a stroller, eaten at Sal’s so many times I’m sick of Chinese food.
I called every number in her phone. All fifteen of them. Every single one was a dog-walking client. None of them had heard from her.
I even used Ethan’s agency to try and track down Elizabeth or Grant Smith, but they couldn’t find any solid leads when we didn’t have much to go on. What they did tell me, however, is that no Elizabeth Smith attended the University of Maryland around the time she could have gone there.
There are a lot of Elizabeth Smith’s in the world. Just not my Elizabeth Smith.
It’s as if she never existed.
Diane pops her head around the curtain as I’m finishing up with Mr. Howard. “There’s someone to see you out in the waiting room.”
My heart pounds. Someone to see me? Could it be her? Everyone else I know would text me.
I rip off my gloves and head out past ground zero, looking through the glass to see if it’s her. But she’s not there.
I walk through the doors.
“Dr. Stone?” a man asks.
He’s a big guy. Intimidating. Taller than me and heavier by a good fifty pounds. He has a crew cut and is clean shaven, with a few scars on his face that reek of fist-fights.
“How can I help you?” I ask.
He pulls a picture out of his pocket. “Your receptionist said she recognized this girl. Said you might have treated her some time ago.”
I look at the picture and try not to react. It takes all my willpower to hold in my emotions. My questions. Because I’m staring at a picture of Elizabeth. Only she’s a brunette. And, Jesus, she’s even more beautiful than she was as a blonde.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” I say.
“Grant,” he says. “Grant Lucas.”
Holy motherfucker.
I try to stay calm. “Why are you looking for this girl?” I ask, my heart beating so fucking loud, I’m positive he must hear it.
He pulls out a badge and flashes it at me. I grab it before he can put it back in his pocket.
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