“You can get it,” I say, even though I really, really, really don’t want him to.
“I’m sorry. I think I have to.” He releases me and grabs his phone from his pocket.
“Stacy?” His brows pull together, and I cringe at the sound of a woman’s name. Who is she? Someone already in his life, obviously. Not someone shoehorning her way in like I am. Jealousy eats me alive by tiny bites, like fire ants.
Aiden listens intently to the call. I watch his face for a sign as to what’s going on. He squeezes the phone and his knuckles turn white. “I’ll be right there,” he almost shouts before ending the call.
He looks at me, his expression adrift. “I have to go to the hospital. My son…”
I jump up and start throwing containers into the backpack. I didn’t even know he had a son. Aiden shakes his head and gets a grip on himself. Touching each dish is taking too long, so I gather the edges of the blanket and pull them together, leaving half the containers in the middle of it, and stuff the whole mess into the backpack. Aiden holds the edges of the bag open for me and we get it in, mostly.
He slings the pack on his shoulder, and we take off at a run. “I’m sorry I don’t have time to drop you at home.”
“I’m not,” I say as I start to huff behind him. I try to keep up even though my low heels slide on the concrete floor of the access hallway. I’m so glad I didn’t give in to Barclay about the stilettos. “Kids come first. Let’s get there as fast as we can.”
Chapter Seventeen
Aiden speeds all the way to Piedmont Atlanta Hospital. I hug my armrest on the curves and think about how I’d feel if something was wrong with my niece and nephew, Savannah and Jackson, and I multiply it by ten. I try not to think about Laurel and her troubles. The cancer. Whether Savannah and Jackson will have to settle for me to be the connection to memories of their mother. If I can even be there for them.
Please let Laurel be okay. And Aiden’s son too.
“What’s your son’s name?” I don’t know if it’s a good thing to distract him right now, but he answers like it’s okay that I’ve asked.
“Jacob. He’s eight.”
I try to picture an eight-year-old. A little boy bigger than Savannah with Aiden’s light brown hair and velvet eyes.
“He had a kidney infection when he was younger. We got it treated right away, of course, but there was some damage to his kidneys.” He swallows. “We have to be on guard. He’s susceptible to more. We have to be so careful…” He trails off as he runs a yellow light that’s close to being orange by the time we blow through the intersection.
“He got another kidney infection two weeks ago. The nephrologist said we’re looking at needing a transplant.”
My heart seizes in my chest for this boy I’ve never met. To be so little and be faced with something so big and terrifying.
Aiden pulls the car into the hospital parking lot. I’d already been here once today—as every day—to visit the used-to-be me. I try not to think about my old comatose body up on the fifth floor. All my focus is on Aiden and this little boy I’ve yet to meet who’s suddenly important to me.
We race through the doors and stop at the desk. Aiden taps his hands against the edge of the nurses’ station until we can get someone’s attention to ask about Jacob’s condition. The nurse directs us to his room on the pediatric floor. We find out Jacob has already been examined and is resting. Aiden doesn’t seem to breathe until we’re in Jacob’s room, staring at his sleeping, innocent face.
He strides to the boy’s side and, not caring that he’s asleep, puts his arms around him and hugs him close. I’m near enough to see the tears he’s blinking back and the way his hands are shaking when he finally releases his son. Amazingly Jacob doesn’t wake up despite his father’s embrace and instead turns on his side and snuggles into his pillow with a half smile on his face.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Aiden and I both turn to look at the woman standing by the window with her arms folded. She’s shorter than I am—both as myself and as Evie. Her light brown hair is swept back into a messy ponytail and her pinched face is free of makeup. Even so, she’s pretty, and I can see the resemblance to Jacob in her long eyelashes and apple cheeks.
“I’m hugging my son. What does it look like I’m doing?”
Stacy swivels from the window and puts her hands on her hips. “We just got him to sleep. It’s been an impossible night. And here you are making a scene, trying to wake him up.”
Aiden shakes his head. “I wasn’t trying to wake him up. I’m just glad he’s okay. No thanks to you.” His voice is bitter, and it hits her like a slap. She visibly recoils. I feel like shrinking into the dated peach-floral wallpaper.
“Thanks to me? Are you insane? I’m the one keeping our son alive. I am.” She pokes herself in the chest for emphasis so hard I bet it hurts, but she doesn’t flinch. “I’m the one keeping our son alive ninety percent of the time. You only have to worry about it two weekends a month and summer vacation.”
“Who the hell’s fault is that? Who cheated with that bastard and had the gall to kick me out of my own house? Let’s not forget whose fault the breaking up of our family really is, Stacy.” He runs his hand through his hair and looks around the room. “And where is your partner in adultery tonight anyway?”
“Alex is downstairs getting coffee. And you’re a self-righteous asshole.”
I want to disappear. This is so much more than I want or need to know about Aiden on our first date. The vitriol with which he speaks to Stacy tells me he cares for her so much more than I want him to. There’s such passion and hurt there that his heart must still be full of her. How could it not be? They share a child and the biggest worry two parents can have—fear for that child. Stacy will never be out of his life—or his heart.
A muffled cry draws my attention to the small form on the hospital bed. Jacob’s eyes are wide open, and he’s staring at his parents who haven’t noticed him yet. They’re absorbed with yelling at each other at full volume.
I pull up a chair to Jacob’s bedside. “How are you doing, kiddo?” I ask.
“Who are you?” He sounds mildly curious and not at all disturbed to see a total stranger in his hospital room. Ah, the benefits of being a beautiful woman.
“I’m…Evie.” Why do I feel guilty saying that? Like I’m lying to him about who I really am. It’s not like I can say I’m Julianne.
“Evie,” Jacob repeats. “That’s nice.”
I pull up his blanket and tuck it around him. “Thanks. I think so too.”
His eyes stray to his parents who are still arguing. In their wild gesticulations and sanctimonious posturing, they’ve wandered closer to the door. I wonder if their fight will invade other rooms, awaken other patients.
“Are you my dad’s girlfriend?” Jacob looks at me with big, innocent eyes.
“No.” I move a lock of damp hair off his forehead. I lower my voice to a whisper even though no one else would hear me over the arguing anyway. “But I want to be.”
Jacob smiles. “Good. He needs a girlfriend.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. He never goes out. He’s always alone since my mom left him.” He glances over at Aiden, hero worship shining in his eyes. It’s how I once looked at my own dad. “I worry about him sometimes.”
His pretended maturity makes my heart squeeze. “Yeah. I can see that.” I look at Aiden too. “We all worry about the people we love.”
“That’s why they’re fighting, you know.”
I drag my eyes away from Aiden to look at his son who is very close to being a mini version of him. “Hmm?”
He grabs my hand with one of his warm little ones before I even have a chance to worry about traveling into his small child’s body. I exhale a grateful breath when I remain Evie. “Because they both love me.”
“I’m glad you know that.” I pat our linked hands. “They both love you more than anything, but it looks like they just have
different ideas on what to do about it.”
“Hey! You. Get away from my son.” Stacy stalks toward me, and I jump, releasing Jacob’s hand.
“There’s no cause for that.” Aiden grasps her arm, but she shakes him off. She doesn’t come closer to me, though, and for that I’m grateful. Her ferocity scares me. As does her pervasive presence in Aiden’s life. Would there even be room for me?
I stand and edge away from Jacob’s bed. “I can wait in the lobby.”
“I can’t believe you brought a date to your son’s hospital room.” Stacy turns on Aiden. She’s partially blocking the door, and I wonder if it’s feasible to try to edge past her to get to the lobby. If I get too close, I’m sure she’ll have no trouble knocking me into the wall.
“Mom! Mom! Please stop. She’s my friend.”
Stacy freezes. Her son’s voice is magic. The hard lines of her face relax, and suddenly she’s concerned and loving. A mother. “All right, baby. It’s all right.” She moves to go to his side and I flinch, melting toward the wall as she passes me. She manages to cross without body-slamming me and sits on his bed.
“Be nice to her,” Jacob says, letting his mother hug him and coo over him. “I like her.”
She shoots me a side-glance before turning back to him. “Sure thing, sweetie.”
Aiden loops an arm around my waist. “I’m sorry about all this,” he says softly into my hair.
I take a steadying breath, surprised by how stressed out this small family drama has made me. “It’s okay.” I try to appreciate his nearness—his arm around me feels proprietary if not a downright declaration to his ex that I’m someone who has the right to exist in his life. But I keep thinking about my own family drama three floors away and how little I’ve done—or have wanted to do—to remedy it.
“You know, I should go.” I step away from Aiden.
“All right. I’ll drive you home and come back.” He reaches in his pocket for his keys.
“No. There’s no need. I’ll get an Uber. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Before he can argue I’m past him and at the door. “Jacob, Stacy, it was so nice meeting you,” I call out without looking at them.
I rush down the hall and push the elevator button to go up before I realize I’ve decided to visit my old body for the second time today.
“I think you pushed the wrong button.” Aiden’s voice close behind my head startles me.
“Oh. I guess I did,” I mumble and push the down button. I angle toward him and notice the stubble of his beard, which is more pronounced than it was earlier. It’s been a long day. And we’ve spent a lot of time together.
There’s no one else in the hallway at this time of night. There’s no distraction from being alone again with Aiden. Only now it doesn’t feel full of possibility. The space between us is crowded with Stacy and Jacob, and I tell myself there’s no room for me in his small circle of love.
“Shouldn’t you be in there?” I nod in the direction of Jacob’s room.
He jiggles the keys in his pocket so they make a jangly sound. “I couldn’t drive you home then.”
“I don’t want you to drive me home.”
He cocks his head at me, his eyes roaming over my face, then nods. “That’s right. I forgot. Your best friend is in the hospital. In a coma. Is she here? That why you’re headed up?”
I nod, impressed he’d remember when he has so many other things on his mind right now.
“Maybe I should go with you.”
My stomach drops. No way. Too weird. “No, I’m good. Jacob needs you right now. Please go to him.” I stick out my hand for him to shake. “Thank you for a lovely evening, sir.”
Aiden rolls his eyes and pushes my hand away as he pulls me into his arms. His lips are warm on mine, and I give in to the pressure of them, kissing him back with all the tightly held passion I’m dying to give him. When we have to breathe or risk fainting, we break apart and our eyes lock. He’s panting as hard as I am, and his eyes are full of surprise.
“I didn’t expect this, Evie,” he blurts.
“What?”
“You.”
I take a picture with my mind, wanting to freeze this moment in my memory—the look on his face, lips swollen from kissing me, chest rising and falling to catch his breath, his skin rosy with his fast-pumping blood. I want to take this moment and wrap it up and tuck it into my heart to pull out and re-experience whenever I want. All the time. This magical feeling of warmth and comfort and rightness mixed with equal parts passion and desire. I ignore the nagging at the back of my mind that tries to tell me this crystallized moment does not truly belong to me because I’m not me.
I tell that part of my brain to go to hell.
This is me. This is my life now, and I’m living it.
I finally convince Aiden I’ll be fine getting home, and he should go back to Jacob. When the elevator arrives to go up, I push the down button again and wait for the next one.
There’s no one I want to see on the fifth floor.
Chapter Eighteen
On Wednesday morning, before work, I go to the hospital and visit myself. Laurel isn’t there, and I sort of miss her. I’ve gotten used to seeing her here, and I guess I’ve started to look forward to it. Her presence is such a confirmation of me, of my existence, and of the fact that we’re connected through the bonds of family, sisterhood, and love.
Since she’s not here, I stride to my body’s side without hesitation, grab my limp, dusty hand and hold it, and chant my requisite—made up—incantations importuning the forces of nature to let me back into my body.
Nurse Loretta, who is large and militarily efficient, comes in to check on the used-to-be me while I’m mumbling my third refrain of, “Let me change bodies back.”
I cough to distract from any of my mutterings she might have heard and step back from my old body.
“Good morning, Loretta.”
“Good morning, sweetie.”
I stay out of her way as she gets my chart and starts marking things off.
“I haven’t seen your sister in here yet today,” she tells me.
I don’t think anything about her comment for a second—Laurel is my sister—then I realize she’s not supposed to be.
“She’s not my sister,” I correct her and walk over to the chair, deciding to stay a few minutes. I don’t want Loretta to see me touch and run. “I’m Julianne’s friend.” I nod to the bed with old-me in it. “And I guess I’m Laurel’s friend now too.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Loretta finishes charting in the laptop she’s brought in and studies me with her brow furrowed. “I don’t know why, but I always get a strong sister vibe off of you two.” She shakes her head. “This is the end of my shift. Tell her I said ‘hi’ if you see her. Oh, and she left her notebook over there last night.”
She indicates the little table by the door, and I pick up the notebook. “Thanks, Loretta.”
“See you later, sweetie.”
The notebook is a simple mini-spiral, some version of which Laurel has used for years to log her daily to-do lists. I thumb through it, curious as to what she’s been up to lately.
I flip to the last filled-in page, which is yesterday’s.
Visit J
Talk to Dr. Williams about J’s p. t.
Call ins. re: J’s coverage
Make Dad visit J
Schedule S for dentist
Pick up Jack 4:00
What disturbs me is the huge proportion of her day I have unwittingly monopolized. Not just the hours she spends here, which of course I see since I run into her all the time, but also all the business of dealing with someone who can’t do anything for herself.
I flip to other pages, and, since the accident, they’re full of me. So full of me that I feel ill. I don’t want Laurel to focus so much on me. She has her own family and her own huge worries which include contemplating her own death.
Guilt climbs my insides. She shouldn’t do so much for me.
One thing I notice as I flip through page after page of her overly responsible life tasks is that Laurel seems to be obsessed with our father. Specifically, she seems intent on getting him to appear at my bedside.
I don’t know why she should be so preoccupied. Coma-me wouldn’t know the difference, and Laurel doesn’t know I’m Evie.
But then I think it’s probably for her. She thinks she’s dying. With Mom dead and me in a coma and her father MIA, she’s feeling abandoned, left to die alone. Tears spring to my eyes.
I call my father.
Of course he doesn’t answer, but I leave a message telling him my name is Evie Catrone, and I’m good friends with his daughter, Julianne.
“I know you haven’t had the opportunity,” I leave the judgment out of my voice and manage a friendly tone, “to visit Julianne yet, but I wanted to tell you a secret.” I swallow and think about this message shooting out into the empty air of my father’s voice mail.
“Laurel really needs you. She’s having some big problems of her own. She feels all alone. She’s alive, she’s awake, and she’s someone who thinks you still matter.”
I push the button to end the call and wonder what, if anything, my father will make of that message.
∞∞∞
During the day Saturday, I’m busy working. But since the restaurant is not open to guests yet, Saturday night I’m free. Technically, every night I’m free. But Saturday night is date night. I should get the chance to see Aiden again. Or make the chance.
I feel ridiculously backwards. I want to ask him out, and I should feel entitled to after those knee-buckling kisses, I tell myself. Maybe it’s my lingering Julianne-shyness, or the fact that he’s so boss-like and busy when we’re at work, but I have a very hard time finding a way to ask.
After my shift on Saturday, I dawdle, taking my time leaving. I visit the restroom and then linger by my locker, spending a ludicrous amount of time unlocking it and retrieving my purse. Then I revisit the restroom and refresh my makeup.
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