Chapter 29
Amelia
I tuck the edges of Mom’s blanket neatly around her legs before carefully placing the tray across her lap.
The scent of warm soup and buttered bread fills the small hospital room, hiding the antiseptic smell in the air.
The bright lights above feel cold, but she looks better today…
more color in her cheeks. She’s still weak, but at least she doesn’t seem exhausted by just existing.
She adjusts her pillows with a small sigh, her movements slow. “So,” she starts. “I saw the article about you and Adrian.”
I freeze, fingers still resting on the edge of the tray. The words settle into my chest like stone. It’s been a few weeks since the news about me and Adrian came out. I didn’t want to bother her with it. I want her to focus on her recovery.
Slowly, I lift my gaze to hers. “How?” I pull my hands back, settling onto the chair beside her.
“One of the nurses brought me the paper to point you out.” She continues, watching me carefully, “I’ve been waiting for you to talk to me about it.
You used to talk to me about everything.
I know me being in the hospital again is a lot to take on.
” She grabs my hand. “But I’m still here for you.
I can still listen, even if I am still healing. ”
My stomach drops.
“So?” she presses, turning her head slightly, waiting for me to talk.
I swallow, suddenly hyper-aware of the quiet beeping from the machines monitoring her. “I don’t know what we’re doing, Mom.” The words sound wrong, like I’m trying to convince myself, so it won’t hurt when he decides to walk away.
Mom leans back into her pillows, her food untouched.
“Mom, eat,” I urge, nudging the tray closer. “We can talk and eat.”
She hums but doesn’t make a move to pick up her spoon. “Alright, but have you talked to him about what’s going on?”
I blink. “What?”
“Have you called?” she asks, arching an eyebrow.
I shake my head. “We’ve texted.”
“Why not call him and ask to see him?”
“Because I haven’t had time.”
She shakes her head. “That’s an excuse, Amelia. Come on. Even your brothers and sisters come up with better ones.”
I huff out a laugh despite myself. All this time I’ve kept myself busy, focusing on Mom, my siblings, work, and looking for new jobs to protect myself, when really… “I guess I’ve been scared, if I’m honest. What if he really has pulled away?”
Mom just watches me. “Do you like him?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I do. He’s different… more caring. The way he was with you, with the family.”
She smiles. “He’s been good to our family.”
I nod. Shame churns my insides. How wrong I was about him. How quick I was to form an opinion based on gossip and first impressions. “And nothing like I thought he was.”
“No, he’s not.” She pauses. “So instead of making up worst-case scenarios, how about you give him a call?”
My fingers tighten around the edge of the chair.
“Just check in,” she says gently. “See how he’s doing. Maybe he’s just giving you space. He’s a doctor, Amelia. He knows people need time with their families. He’s probably just being respectful.”
I chew on my lip, knowing she’s right. He has his own experience with a parent experiencing a medical emergency, but his ended very differently. I’ve been in my own world and forgot that piece of the story he revealed to me.
“Now go,” she orders, finally picking up her spoon. “I expect an update when you come back.”
I stand, my pulse picking up speed. As I walk down the hospital corridor, I picture him here, moving through the halls in his scrubs, that determined set to his jaw, the way his blue eyes soften when he speaks to you. Me. I imagine him with patients, families, offering comfort and hope.
I push through the heavy doors leading outside, wondering if it would be easier to have this conversation in person? No. He’s at work, and I can’t just show up at the hospital, demanding his attention, when he has patients.
I move toward the quietest corner I can find, away from nurses on break, away from curious eyes.
Taking a deep breath, I pull out my phone.
I hover over his name.
Come on, Amelia. You can do this.
I press the call button and bring the phone to my ear. Each ring stretches longer than it should until, finally, he picks up.
“Hey.” My heart leaps. “You okay?”
The concern in his tone melts something inside me. “Yeah. Of course. Always checking in on me.”
“Always,” he says, the faint sound of the hospital in the background.
“You’re at work. I should let you go. Call me when you’re free.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve missed hearing your voice.”
His words are like a hug.
“I won’t keep you long,” I say quickly, moving my foot along the concrete cracks. “I just wanted to call. See how you’re doing.”
“I’m good.” He hesitates. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s really good,” I say, smiling. “Thanks to you.”
“I didn’t do much,” he says, almost stumbling over the words. “It just happened at the right time. We got help fast. That was the main thing.” This is the first time we have talked about that day.
“Still,” I say softly. "You being there to not only make sure I got the right help but staying with my siblings until Aurora got there means more than I can ever explain."
“I wasn’t going to leave them or you to deal with that alone.”
My heart stutters as I breathe, “Thanks.”
“Any news on when she’s getting home?”
“Not yet,” I admit. I want her home, to get back to normal again, but then I worry about what happens when she leaves the constant monitoring.
He’s quiet for a beat. “Have you eaten?”
I let out a breathy laugh. “No. I’ll probably just grab something on my way home. The kids—”
“I can bring you dinner.”
I blink. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Your mom’s been asking about me, hasn’t she?”
I bite my lip. “Maybe.”
“So it’s not because you wanted to call.” His voice is playful.
I squeeze my eyes shut and admit, “I miss you.”
There’s a pause, and then a soft and honest, “I miss you too.”
Something tight in my chest loosens.
“Would you like to come in and see Mom?” I ask.
His answer is immediate. “Of course.”
“She really wants to thank you.” I exhale, pressing a hand to my racing heart.
“I finish up in a couple of hours. I’ll come by then?”
“That’d be great.”
Knowing I’ll see him again gives me hope we’ll find our way back to where we were.
“See you soon.”
“I’ll see you later.” I can barely suppress the giddy feeling bubbling inside me.
As I hang up, hope spreads through me. My steps feel lighter as I head back to Mom’s room.
When I step inside, she’s mid-bite, chewing her soup-dipped-bread. The sight of her eating, really eating, without looking drained or sickly, fills me with gratitude.
She barely gives me time to sit before she asks, “Are you blushing? What did he say?”
I shake my head with a small laugh. “We didn’t talk about any of the drama,” I admit. “Just… checked in. And he did ask to bring us some dinner, though.”
Mom lowers her bread onto the tray. “So you’re starting to overthink the conversation?”
I groan, leaning back against the chair. “It’s hard not to. I’m so used to doing it, but even thinking about it now, I don’t know what else I could’ve said. Sure, I could’ve talked to him about all of this drama, but it felt better to do so in person. Truly, I was just happy to hear his voice.”
“Well, you’ve had a lot of emotions these last couple of weeks. First, that article, then my stroke, and then the promotion news. Honey, it’s okay that it’s a lot, but you don’t have to do this on your own.”
I sit and think about what she’s saying and realize that I’ve yet to really discuss the things that have gone on recently, and it’s a lot. I don’t know that I realized I was holding on to all these emotions until Mom highlighted them. ***
A few hours later, the room buzzes with quiet voices. Sophia sprawls across chairs, doing homework with me; Aurora is reading in the corner with Felix, Hazel, and Jasper scrolling on their phones, when a gentle knock sounds at Mom’s hospital room door.
I turn, and my heart skips a beat.
Adrian steps inside, holding a bouquet smaller than the first extravagant bunch, but just as breathtaking. The deep reds and soft pinks contrast against the stark white of the hospital walls. He’s also carrying a couple of pizza boxes, which the kids immediately grab from him.
“Hi, Mrs. Richards,” he says warmly, as he steps closer. “How are you feeling?”
Mom’s face brightens. “Oh, Adrian, thank you. I’m doing well, thanks to you.”
He shakes his head. “Nonsense,” he counters, handing over the flowers. She brings them to her nose, inhaling deeply, and I swear her cheeks go a little pinker.
A man buying my mother flowers… it’s been a long time since she’s had that. Since someone outside of the family has made her feel special.
It’s a nice feeling.
And I love how much he cares not just about me, but about my family too.
After hugging Mom, Adrian turns to me. For a split second, he hesitates, his gaze flicking between my eyes and my lips. Then, as if making a decision, he leans in.
I don’t stop him.
Our lips brush, just the lightest touch, but enough to send a rush through me.
My fingers twitch with the urge to pull him back, to kiss him again, but I’m aware of everyone watching us, Aurora’s shocked expression, Hazel’s knowing smile, and Jasper’s disgusted face.
Adrian steps away, about to greet the rest of the room.
Adrian met Aurora briefly the night Mom had her stroke.
Aurora watches us approach.
“Hi, Aurora,” Adrian says, extending his hand with a warm smile.
She takes it without hesitation, her own smile genuine. “Nice to see you again.”
“You too,” he says, letting go of her hand.
Aurora nods before Adrian turns his attention to my other siblings. “How’s everyone else?”
Hazel grins up at him, adjusting her oversized beanie. “Hey, guess what? I’ve done a couple more places, tidying up and grocery runs.” She wrinkles her nose. “Not gonna lie, groceries are the easiest.”
He takes a seat, arms crossed, listening to her with a smile on his lips. The way he gives her his full attention, as if whatever she’s saying is the most important thing in the world, makes my heart ache in the best way.
For so long, I felt like I had to keep my feelings for him hidden, had to downplay what was happening between us.
But not anymore.