21. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Weston
I let out a relieved exhale as my front door finally closes, glancing over at Carter. “Did you have a good day, little man?”
He ignores my question because he’s currently in toddler heaven, sitting in the sunroom adjacent to the kitchen and surrounded by an absurd amount of birthday gifts.
I toss a wet rag in the sink and wash my hands before walking over to him.
“Your Auntie Cass and Uncle Parker went a little overboard, huh?” I say, scanning the pile of toys beside him.
When Cassidy walked in this afternoon with so many presents that she could barely carry all of them, I wasn’t surprised. She spent the entire weekend at the lake carrying Carter around, almost like she was making up for lost time.
What did surprise me, though, was when Parker walked up my front porch steps a minute after his wife with a handful of presents that he insisted were exclusively from him. Apparently, he’s just as wrapped around my son’s finger as his wife is.
I drop to the ground and brush a strand of snow-white hair out of Carter’s eyes. “You know you don’t have to play with that, right? I promise, he won’t ever know.”
Carter looks up at me with an incredibly serious expression, almost like I’ve personally offended him. He has a wooden reflex hammer in one hand and a plastic prescription pad in the other that he’s been banging together for the past several minutes.
I reach down to wipe a trail of drool from his chin and do a double-take.
Since I have to change his outfit multiple times a day, I don’t usually put much thought into his clothes. But now that the chaos has settled and I’m able to get a good look at him, I realize that this bodysuit is definitely different from the one I put him in before the party.
The fabric is navy—the same color as our scrubs—and the words “ Future Doctor ” are printed across the front in white university-style font.
Jesus Christ.
Parker has lost his goddamn mind.
I thought the Surgery for Babies book and medical toys were a little much when we opened them, but I let my friend have his fun because I figured it was a joke.
I should have remembered that Parker Winters doesn’t joke.
I pull my phone from the pocket of my shorts and snap a picture to send to Caroline.
You’ll never guess who got him this.
Every time someone new walked through the door today, my heart would start to beat a little faster with the hope that it was her. And every time it wasn’t, I would have to steel myself and pretend like it didn’t bother me. Pretend that I was okay doing this alone because that’s all I’ve ever known.
But I think I’m starting to realize that I don’t want to pretend anymore. I’m tired of pretending. I’m ready for something real—something like all of my friends have.
At one point this afternoon, I looked around my house, which was more full of joy and love than ever, but all I felt was loneliness because the one person I wanted to be there, wasn’t. And I didn’t know if it was because she couldn’t, or because she simply wouldn’t.
When I drove Caroline home after the hernia repair case, my mind wouldn’t stop racing. All I could think about was how badly I needed to see her again. And since she was sitting in the backseat, singing songs with Carter and making him laugh, I panicked. I blurted out the first thing that came to mind—I invited her to a completely made-up birthday party for my son.
It was a desperate, last-minute audible, considering I’d originally told my family I wanted to keep things small and host a quiet lunch at the club to celebrate. But as soon as the idea left my mouth, I knew I had to make it happen. Luckily, my family was thrilled with the change of plans and rallied to help me pull it all together. No one suspected my ulterior motives either, because I managed to sell it as an exhausted single dad throwing something together at the last minute.
And while I’m fully aware that I shouldn’t have used my son as a pawn, I don’t regret it for a second. I might have lost the chess match with Caroline today, but Carter still had the best time, and that’s really all you can ask for as a parent.
I glance at the clock on my phone, noticing that it’s getting close to six-thirty. People stayed much later than I expected, and Carter has to be exhausted since it’s almost past his bedtime. I scoop him into my arms and airplane him through the kitchen, laughing along with his infectious giggles.
Given the number of people who were feeding him all afternoon, it’s unlikely that he’ll eat dinner, so we opt for a bottle before bed instead and head upstairs. A text comes through as I’m getting changed, but I wait until he’s settled in his crib to read it. I’m sure that it’s just from my parents, letting me know that they made it home, or something.
Carter takes a while to go down, probably due to the amount of sugar he consumed when he smashed his face into the chocolate Publix birthday cake.
I turn on the baby monitor as I leave the room and make my way downstairs, deciding to pour myself a splash of scotch on the way. I pull out my phone as I sink into the couch cushions, feeling my body relax with my first sip of Glendronach 21.
That’s nothing.
You should see what he got me last Christmas.
I feel myself smile as I read the message from Caroline because I’m sure Parker bought her something ridiculous and overbearing, like a lifetime subscription to a medical journal.
Lol. I don’t want to know.
I kick my feet up on the wooden coffee table in front of me, wondering what she’s up to as I wait for her to reply. I hope she’s grinning down at her phone like I am, thinking about me the way I’m thinking about her.
Sorry I couldn’t make it today.
Hope Carter didn’t miss me too much.
I’m sure she had her reasons for not coming, and while I want to reply with some witty line of banter, I don’t. I tell her the truth.
We both missed you.
Technically, I don’t know if Carter missed her because he can’t form complex sentences. But he definitely gravitates toward her when she’s around, the same way that I have from the moment I met her.
I know she said that I don’t have a chance with her, and if I were a smart man . . . I would listen to her. I would remind myself that she’s too good for me. That it would be selfish of me to explore something with her when she’s just getting to the best years of her life.
But the way I feel when I’m around Caroline is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my life—it’s electric, like her magnetic energy has me finally thinking about a future beyond tomorrow. A future . . . with her.
Text bubbles appear and disappear on the screen like she can’t decide what to say, which is surprising because she always seems to have something to say to me.
Eventually, a message comes through.
Studying is kicking my ass, and I didn’t want to bring the mood down.
I want to tell her that nothing she could do would bring my mood down. She could tell me that I have a terminal illness, and I would probably be glad that the news was coming from her instead of someone else.
But I decide to change the subject because she’s clearly not in a great headspace.
Are you done for the day?
It’s nearly eight now and if she spent the day studying, there’s no way she’s still retaining information. She should go to sleep and get up early to start fresh.
Her reply bounces back much faster this time.
I shouldn’t be. But I think I need a break.
My fingers fly over the keyboard, and I don’t pause to think before I send a message back.
Break on me.
I re-read the text, hoping she doesn’t take it the wrong way. If I were trying to flirt with her, I would have replied with a much more lewd sexual innuendo. But that’s not what I was getting at with my message.
I want her to know that I’m here if she needs me. That she doesn’t have to feel alone.That it’s okay to let go.
A response comes through moments later that makes my heart sink.
I don’t think that’s a good idea, Wes.
While she’s probably right, that doesn’t mean I agree. Or that I won’t leave the door open, just in case.
I’ll leave the porch light on if you change your mind.