Abruption

by Riley Mackenzie

  “Hey, handsome, I heard you were asking for me.” Finn kept screaming. “And I heard your dad offered you your favorite pizza if you’re a big boy and let me take a tiny bit of blood. You know I’ll use that special gel, doesn’t hurt at all.” More screaming. “Okay. I’m going to count to five then I’m leaving. No blood work, but also no yummy pizza for your belly. Your choice. One, two—” The screaming morphed into swallowed gulps. “Three—” Hiccups. “Four—”

  “Yemon yi- (hiccup) ices, too (hiccup), JuJu?”

  He seriously was as delicious as a lemon ice itself. And to top it off, JuJu, my nickname melted my heart. I lifted his glasses from his face, careful not to snag the Power Ranger sports band tucked between his curly locks, and wiped his tears with the sleeve of his thermal shirt.

  “Absolutely.” I tapped the tip of his nose—family habit, I couldn’t help myself—and replaced his lenses. “That reminds me, I think this boy deserves some of Alonzo’s famous water ice. To this day, he insists my mom only married him because it’s the best ever!” I winked at my little friend and caught Guy staring sans the glare this time.

  “My mommy’s in heaven. You know heaven?”

  Caught so utterly off guard, my heart sank to the pit of my stomach, and I had to take a moment to catch my breath before answering. “I do know heaven, sweet boy. Heaven is home for all the beautiful angels. I bet your mommy is looking down on you right now.”

  “Maxie says Mommy’s a real angel. She flies super fast like Tink.” He whipped his little arms above his head, imitating the tiny sparkly fairy. A small smile tugged at my lips, appreciating his precious reference.

  Your heart will fly on wings forever.

  “Well, you’re one lucky little brother because you have one smart big sister. Angels are definitely real … beautifully real.”

  The stifling climate finally abated when Finn’s smile reached his eyes. Somewhere during our conversation, Guy’s gaze drifted to his phone and remained statue-still, as if his screen saver held magical answers. Unfortunately, magical answers didn’t exist. I could not believe Finn and his sister lost their mother, and Guy lost his wife. Overcome with a myriad of feelings—curiosity, sadness, empathy—I said … nothing. Yep, I said absolutely nothing.

  Awkward.

  Finn tugged my arm. “JuJu, I hungry, I hungry.”

  “Right, handsome.” Right. I swallowed the platitudes that were stuck between my brain and lips and focused on what I could actually fix. I’d yet to find words of sympathy that held any healing power, so I pushed up Finn’s sleeve and went to work.

  “See, nice and quick. All done. You were a rock star.” I disposed of the sharp and sticker-labeled the vials. “And boy, do I have the perfect Band-Aid for you.” I rummaged through the bin and covered his barely visible prick site.

  “Powya Rangers! Now it peeza time?”

  “Well, I most certainly think you earned it. What do you think, Dad?”

  Guy palmed Finn’s head and dipped down to kiss his forehead. “Strong work, buddy. I know I promised you pizza,” he squeezed his chin and studied his watch, “but Daddy has to go back to work.”

  He was joking, had to be. Finn’s bottom lip started to quiver. “You pwomised.”

  “Don’t worry, bud. Maya will be back in twenty minutes from her appointment, and I’ll have her take you. You can play in my office until then.”

  Oh God, he was serious. Because that’s what a three-year-old with his heart set on pizza wanted, to play in his office. How mean. Empathetic towards him or not, it was my turn to shoot eye daggers. He must have felt them pinging him, because he turned and tried to explain. “I didn’t plan on this taking two hours.” He gestured toward the vials of blood as if that made a difference. Then his broad shoulders deflated a millimeter. If I hadn’t been on the receiving end of his towering arrogance several times already, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. Except he did seem off somehow, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  He’s flustered.

  “I’ll take you. I love pizza.” It came out in a rush.

  “Huh?” Yep, Guy said huh. Definitely flustered.

  “JuJu peeza! JuJu peeza! Peeeeeeeese.” Finn was no fool. He dragged out that “e” in please for as long as possible and flashed those dimples. The kid from Jerry McGuire had nothing on him.

  “Why would you do that? That’s crazy. Maya will be back soon. She knows I have a one o’clock case.”

  “It’s pizza. Really not a big deal. And besides, I’m hungry, too.” My stomach growled almost on cue. Charming.

  A puzzled look spread across his face. “Seriously? You’re going to take my kid to lunch?”

  This wasn’t some sneaky abduction scheme. Really, the pizza place was around the corner. Sheesh.

  “JuJu peeza!” Finn cheered when he realized he’d won, if this was even a battle to be won. Guy was hard to read. Especially today.

  I refrained from doing my own celebratory dance because, one, it might have been a little strange and inappropriate, and two, no one ever really needed to see that. I said, “Perfect. It’s settled. Pizza time.”

  Finn held his arms out for me to pick him up, and my already melty heart turned to pureed mush.

  “I’ll have Maya pick Max up at preschool and meet you there. You’re sure you don’t mind?”

  One more time I reiterated the obvious. “It’s pizza. Of course I don’t mind.”

  I lifted Finn onto my hip and he monkey-wrapped his braced little legs as best he could around my waist. All I smelled was baby shampoo. And not the all natural, no suds, fragrance free organic stuff this generation of parents felt the need to use now, but good old Johnson & Johnson. The gold bottle, the kind a single dad with too much to deal with would choose. The kind that reminded me of everything innocent and pure. The kind that could easily clog my throat and make my lungs seize.

  Guy’s facial expressions continued to question my sanity while I bent for Finn’s winter coat. “Let’s take the elevator up to get my jacket and purse and then we’ll go. K, handsome?”

  “Fine, I’ll grab his stroller for you.”

  “No.” It came out harsher than I intended.

  “But—”

  “No, we’re good.”

  Definitely no stroller. We’d get there when we got there, leg braces and all. Or maybe I’d hold him all the way there since he seemed to nestle right into my side as if my body was created to carry a little someone.

  Twenty minutes later I belted a very chatty Finn into the wooden high chair, after Purell-ing down the gross handlebars first, of course. I slid him closer to the red and white checkered table and placed our order.

  “Dada.” Finn’s delicate finger pointed at the front window. Guy, holding a slightly bigger, pig-tailed version of Finn, pushed through the double glass doors, setting off the chimes. It was weird how I felt his presence immediately, no chimes needed.

  He was out of scrubs, and dare I say, out of arrogance, if that made any sense. I saw a glimpse of something else earlier when Finn flustered him, but this was different. Dressed in faded jeans and a dark North Face, he seemed calmer, almost relaxed. The exact opposite of everything I’d ever known him to be. It was the clothes. Had to be the clothes.

  “Mind if we join you guys?”

  Huh? Now I was the one flustered. It’s just the clothes. The appropriate response would have been, “absolutely” or “so awesome you made it.”

  I said nothing.

  Again.

  “Jules, this is my princess Maxine.”

  The little girl climbed in the chair closest to Finn and quickly corrected her father. “I’m Max.”

  Thankfully, she also snapped me out of my denim-induced haze, reminding me of who I was dealing with. It’s just Dr. Hunter. The same Dr. Hunter who had a track record of treating me poorly, and who, up until a few hours ago, rubbed me the wrong way. The same man who was raising these precious children alone because he lost his wife.

  God,
how had I not said anything?

  Something. Anything. I knew better. But now it was too late, right? Wimp.

  Loss was never a get out of jail free card, but I understood how it had the power to make you forget the rules of the game every now and again. Grief could be all-consuming, and some days just waking up was your only play. Staring at Maxine’s angelic smile and remembering how she looks just like her mother, I imagined Guy Hunter had more than his share of bad game days. I suddenly felt like a hypocrite for passing judgment. It was time to start over. And to ignore the clothes.

  “Max. That’s an awesome name for such a pretty girl.”

  “I’m a big sister,” she said, poking her finger into her polka dot ruffled sweater.

  Finn pouted, obviously not too keen on sharing attention or having his sister rain on his pizza day parade. I eyeballed them, waiting for an epic brother/sister showdown and caught a small smirk from Guy.

  “Wait, what happened to your case?” I asked, suddenly remembering.

  “She ate.” Two words explained enough. It never mattered how many times you reminded patients “nothing after midnight,” people inevitably screwed up. “It was an elective hernia repair so I rescheduled her for next week. More importantly, I promised my little man pizza.”

  Finn cheesed so hard his glasses turned crooked, making Guy laugh. It was a deep, genuine sound that raised the tiny hairs at the nape of my neck. My eyes were magnetically drawn to his. The intensity and guarded arrogance was gone and all that was left were bright blue orbs pointed directly at me.

  Seriously, Jules? No other explanation than I was delirious. I was way too old for sleep deprivation—those overnight shifts were making me loony. Mama CeCe-crazy.

  “Finny, your glasses, silly.” Max reached over and straightened them for her brother, dousing my uncharacteristic hormonal surge and inexcusable internal awkwardness. “All better. Daddy, I’m hungry.”

  “I’ll order a few more slices.”

  “No need. I ordered a pie. Should be out any second.”

  “A whole pie?” He scrunched his brow and looked at Finn. “Dude, you must be hungry. Or is someone’s eyes bigger than his stomach?”

  “Finn and I had a very serious discussion on the walk over. He hasn’t had Maria’s Pizza in a long time. Too long, according to him. It might’ve even been years. And well, I haven’t had breakfast. So a large pie seemed like the only option at the time. And besides, leftover cold pizza for breakfast rules.” Finn pumped out his fist. We bumped. And blew it up. And the magnetic pull brought us back together. “Phew.” Thank goodness I was a fast learner.

  Guy’s laughter filled the small restaurant. And I thought I liked his laugh before. This one topped it. I also figured out where Finn got his humongous cheese and adorable dimples. Although I wouldn’t use the word adorable in this case. Nope. Definitely not adorable. The adjectives I’d use were not for this PG crowd.

  I’d officially lost it—padded room lost it. The giggles coming from Finn and Max were the only thing keeping me grounded. I wondered how often Guy laughed like this (I hoped a lot), because his kids absolutely loved it, and because it was seriously contagious. Enough so, I caught it. Before I knew it, I was clutching my sides and could barely catch my breath.

  I hadn’t laughed, really laughed, in seven years.

  The south elevator was more painful than the downtown local, stopping at every floor. I never took elevators—for this reason, and because surgeons took stairs. It was ingrained from internship, day one. Yet this was my third ride today.

  “Hunter, what are you doing over here? I don’t have the blueprint memorized, but I’m pretty sure the OR’s on the north wing. Please don’t tell me Finn’s back in the unit. I’m heading up there now—I didn’t see him on the list.” Meg caught me in the elevator ride to nowhere.

  “No, no. Finn’s good. I’m just heading, um—” Shit. What else was over here? “—to the lab. Waiting on some STAT results, you know, trying to speed things up.”

  “And you couldn’t find an intern to do that?” She dragged out aaaand when she really wanted to say yeah right, you’re full of shit. When the doors slid open to the PICU family, she added salt to the wound. “Have a good one, and don’t get lost down there. I hear the lab guy is pretty scary.”

  “Hold the door!” Meg’s hand reflexively reached back and triggered the sensors, beating me to it. I would have used my foot but that was beside the point. The smell of fresh soap and sweet apples permeated the confined space. “Thanks, Meg. Tube system is down again—have to drop these off.” Jules lifted up a couple of specimen bags.

  “The lab seems to be a popular destination today. So strange.” Meg peered back over her shoulder and attempted direct visual contact. Smart ass.

  This was a stupid idea.

  “Oh hey, what are you doing over here?” Jules asked as soon as she noticed me, her high-energy voice stirring something dormant inside.

  The doors closed behind her, but she stayed facing me. Wasn’t it elevator etiquette to turn around? She rolled back on her bright purple clogs and crossed her arms. “You were looking for me, weren’t ya?”

  “You always so blunt?”

  Jules laughed. The real laugh. Shorter and quicker, but definitely the one from the pizza joint. The one that had me riding this stupid elevator, and the one that invaded my dreams every night since last Friday when I watched her pop the last bite of pizza into her sharp-witted mouth.

  “Do you always answer a question with a question, Dr. Hunter? Very interesting. You first.”

  I couldn’t stop staring at her slightly parted lips and her pinked cheeks. Every other time she’d blushed I was usually acting like an ass and had to look away. This was different. I liked it.

  “What if I do?”

  “Still a question.”

  “Blunt and stubborn.”

  “What’d you expect?”

  Good question. I had no clue what to expect from this woman. That was the issue. I’d been far from hospitable, and she’d taken my kid to lunch, for God’s sake. I answered, “Dinner.”

  “Dinner?” Her eyes silently questioned my intentions. My invitation took her by surprise. Made two of us. “Okay, deal.”

  “Deal?” Now I sounded like the goddamn echo.

  Hair Gel guy briefly popped into mind, but if she wasn’t mentioning him neither was I. I could do high school, if need be. After all, it was just one dinner.

  “I might be a little stubborn,” she pinched her two fingers together in front of her face, “which isn’t my fault, I might add. I’m Italian, and it’s genetic, but I’m also completely capable of being open-minded.”

  I had absolutely nothing to say to that, because let’s be honest, there was no safe response. I addressed the matter at hand. “You’re off tomorrow?”

  It was a rhetorical question—I knew full well she was. The front desk ladies loved me and were more than happy to oblige my inquiries, especially when I came by bearing gifts. The cinnamon rolls paid off.

  “Actually, I’m covering for Cara tomorrow morning for a few hours then I’m off.”

  So much for not being transparent.

  “Maya’s got the kids. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “Well, that doesn’t make much sense. I live in the Bronx, so I’ll head home, change, and come to you. That way you don’t waste Maya on travel time. Besides, then I can bring the kids a treat. Give me your phone.”

  Bossy, blunt, and stubborn. The list was growing. Why was I doing this again? If I wanted to get laid there were half a dozen women I knew were up for it, no stress or strings. Yet I hadn’t accepted any of their offers.

  Conceding, I handed her my phone. She tapped away and an unfamiliar ringtone whistled from her top scrub pocket. It took the self-control of a prizefighter to not zero in on her chest.

  “I called myself, so we’re all good. Now I have your number and you have mine. When you get a chance later, text me your address. Still seven?�
��

  I stopped to process the phone thing. Her eyebrow rose and she shifted her weight.

  Time. Right. “Make it six. We’ll shoot for a drink before dinner. Kids will have eaten, and once they know you’re coming they’ll be crazy wound up. Give them time to chill after we leave before Maya puts them to bed.” I was thinking out loud, but she didn’t have kids so I probably made no sense.

  “No, that’s perfect. But I wouldn’t tell them I’m coming. Plans change and disappointment is the worst.”

  “Point taken. But hey, you’re not canceling on me already. And to think, I just got your number.” My lame ass half-flirt earned me that laugh again.

  Nothing about this was a good idea, worse because we worked together. There was zero chance of it going anywhere. At least not for me. But right now, I didn’t care. The promise of hearing that laugh come from that face a few more times was worth all the uncomfortable encounters I’d have to endure after we tanked.

  The elevator pinged, and Jules backed out with a ridiculous perky wave. “See you tomorrow, Dr. Hunter.”

  The doors slid closed before I realized what happened.

  Damn, I was in trouble. I couldn’t remember the last date I was on.

  My phone vibrated with an incoming text.

  Ciao :)

  This was a seriously bad idea. I could already feel the water filling in around me.

  “I’m coming to New York, darling. I miss my little Towhead and Goldilocks. It’s been too long.”

  “Next weekend doesn’t work, they’re with the Goldmans.”

  “That’s lovely. I’m sure Darla and Peter appreciate spending time with the children.” Just the mention of the other grandparents pushed her buttons. She couldn’t cover the sarcasm in her voice if she tried. My mother knew how to breathe through just about anything, it was her mantra, but she never understood how Britt’s parents lived fifteen minutes across town, yet saw the kids only once a month. A schedule they set up, by the way. Moot point. It was better for me.