Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Adam
The fact was that I couldn’t focus on anything.
I was still at the hospital at ten that night, when my shift had ended at seven.
I’d done so much administrative work that I actually felt caught up, which never happened.
I kept trying to compose the right text.
Yes, we have a relationship.
That wasn’t good. That sounded…pervy.
Yes, we have a friendship. We might have a friendship. We want to have a friendship. We might want to have more than a friendship.
Oh, come on, Adam, I chided myself. Friendship was the very last thing on my mind. Ani was beautiful, fun, charismatic, and interesting. If I saw her across the room in a tropical location and our eyes met, I’d be completely drawn to her physically.
Oh, I’d done that already.
But now I was also drawn to her mentally.
Maybe I always had been. Which might be a terrifying revelation considering the state she was in when I first met her.
One look at you and I lose all my words.
I definitely wasn’t sending that one.
What I should have said but never would: You scare the shit out of me. You are a problem that I do not know how to solve.
I erased the first sentence and kept the second. And then I pushed send before I lost my nerve. And because I was an ER doc, not a writer, I stopped critiquing my prose and gave myself points for being as honest as I knew how to be.
And then I spent the next ten minutes trying to figure out how to un-send a text, but it was too late. Note to self: Learn the nuclear option first.
What had I done?
No three moving dots in sight. No answer at all.
I paced my office. Then I headed down the long corridor away from my staff because if they saw me, I had one hundred percent certainty of being pulled into…something.
Suddenly, a text popped up. I’m going to go cuddle that baby. And then, Want to join me?
Yes! I fist pumped and texted a thumbs up, lest I get too exuberant and drive her away with too many emojis.
I forced myself to sit and send a few emails, so I didn’t look too eager.
Finally, I closed up my office, walked down the long corridor, got in the elevator, and punched the fifth-floor button.
It was nearly midnight as I walked down the dim hallway of the postpartum ward. It was strangely silent—not a peep out of any of the newborns, many of whom roomed in with their moms.
I turned a corner to the nursery. “Hey, Dale,” I said to the charge nurse, who was sitting at the desk with his feet up, reading a dark fantasy novel.
Dale happened to be six-foot-five, with little gold hoop earrings, a ponytail, and lots of tattoos.
He looked more like a biker dude than a nurse in charge of newborns—but I happened to know that his heart was a giant bowl of melted ice cream.
On seeing me, he lowered his feet and set down his book.
“It must be ER night in the nursery. Dr. Green just came to love up the baby up a little. You come back for another turn too?”
I hoped he hadn’t told Ani I’d already been by twice today. Only to make sure things were getting done and to look in on the baby, whom they were calling “Baby Smith,” an alias, of course, which made me feel sad. “I’m here this time to talk to Dr. Green.”
And I’d better not screw things up again.
He hiked a thumb behind his head. “We’ve had staff from every floor coming down. Poor little thing.” He shook his head, and I could swear he was getting teary. So I patted him on the back. Which was a little awkward.
But, it turned out, appreciated. “Thanks, Doc.” Dale wiped his eyes under his glasses. “It’s so unfair to get such a crappy start in the world, isn’t it?” He sighed. “You can go on back.”
I was thinking that I’d rather go into a pit of snakes than in a room with a handful of zesty newborns—and Ani Green, but just then, she looked up and saw me in the doorway.
She was sitting in a white wooden rocker, holding the baby.
Her bright smile, her wave, the way she lit up—well, that same reaction overtook me that always did when I was near her—a sudden flush, a pounding of my heart, the strike of a match when our gazes met.
As if I usually lived in black and white, but when she was near, I saw color.
I, who had responded to countless emergencies by acting quickly, froze. And then she gestured for me to come on in. And suddenly everything felt better. Except for my too-honest text.
Ani wore red lipstick. And a sparkly dress. Her curls were more contained but never fully, thank God. She looked incredible.
I couldn’t look away.
I finally had to as Dale handed me a pale-yellow hospital gown, holding it open for me to slide my arms into.
“When you go in, be sure to talk quietly. All the little peeps are asleep, and I want to get through the next chapter before any of them wake up. Once one wakes up, it’s dominoes—a real war zone in there. ”
“Thanks, Dale.” I walked into the nursery, where the lights were pleasantly dimmed. A half-dozen bassinets were lined up, each containing a little sausage-shaped bundle swaddled in white flannel and wearing a blue or pink cap. It was a baby dorm, and everyone was tucked in for the night.
It was a happy place, but unsettling for me to be here. Liv had loved babies. We’d both wanted one so desperately. I tried to tell myself that it was a good thing that we weren’t able to have one, because I couldn’t imagine how difficult it would have been for a child to lose her too.
I tried to focus on the positive vibe of the nursery and, of course, seeing Ani.
She was all dressed up, with dangly silver earrings with pearls on the ends that matched her sparkly dress.
A pair of red heels sat kicked off near her chair.
And wow, those legs. No doubt about it. She was a knockout.
My attraction to her was never the problem.
Or rather, maybe that was the whole problem.
It had been a long time since I’d noticed a woman like that—ten months, precisely.
As I took a seat beside her in another rocker, Ani gave me a quick nod of acknowledgment then continued beaming at the baby, fast asleep in her arms, her mouth a perfect little O.
“Angel kissed.”
“What did you say?” I realized I was staring at Ani, not the baby, so I quickly changed my focus to the bundle in her arms.
She gestured with her head toward the baby. “She’s angel kissed.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. The baby was a tiny little thing with a shock of dark hair and tiny, elegant fingers splayed out on the blanket as she slept.
I had to look away. I had a hard time dwelling on such sweetness. It reminded me of an innocent time, of the person that I no longer was.
“See her eyelids?” Ani circled her index finger over the baby’s face. Some mildly red marks were embossed over the baby’s eyelids. “They’re simple nevi that fade with time. But we call them angel kisses.”
“You pediatricians.” I shook my head. “Are you here to examine her?”
She laughed. “I kept thinking about her. So I stopped by.” As she lowered her head to watch the baby sleep, I noticed that she had long, pretty eyelashes.
I tried to focus on something other than my growing desire, which felt overpowering. “Judging by the way you’re dressed, there has to be more to that story.”
“Let’s just say that I’d rather be here than at my parents’ fancy party and leave it at that. Did you want a turn to hold her too?” She moved to hand over the baby.
“No, I—” I was starting to sweat a little. “I’m fine watching you hold her.”
“Good, more time for me. I want to hold her all night.” Ani settled in, cradled the baby in her arms, still smiling.
She seemed really happy. It was so intriguing to me that of all things, she’d chosen to come here and do this, hold a little baby who had no one.
She kept throwing me curveballs.
“I hate that they call her Baby Smith.” She pointed to the white card with a stork that was taped to her bassinet. “She deserves a wonderful, amazing name. Who will name her?”
“I don’t know.” The social worker? Children’s Services? Ani was right. “Baby Smith” was generic yet ominous. A placeholder while her life was being decided by forces beyond her control.
For a moment, we sat in silence, listening to the backdrop of typical hospital sounds—phones ringing in the distance, Dale’s big laugh, little noises from one of the babies stirring.
“You came to check on her earlier,” she said, staring at the baby, taking in all her features. “Dale told me.” She flicked her gaze to me. “You’re not a complete grump.”
I sat back and straightened up. “She was born under my watch. You’re not the only one who feels responsible.”
Ani frowned, lines of worry appearing between her eyes. “What do you think’s going to happen next?”
“Well, the social worker will get the ball rolling. Hopefully, the end result will be that she’ll get a great family.”
“How long does that all take?”
It was a process. The baby had to be declared a ward of the state. A foster parent had to be found. Then adoption lists had to be consulted. “I don’t know, but there’s usually a wait list—I mean, newborns are in demand.”
“What if she gets a dud family? Who will watch over her and make certain things work out?” I could see that Ani was emotional, invested. She seemed to wear all her emotions front and center. While I hid mine in bad texts.
I studied her carefully. “I have this feeling that you might generally think that it’s on your shoulders to save the world.”
“No, I just—I just have a more optimistic view of life than you do. I believe in trying to do what I can to make things better. Have you always been like this?”
“What? Practical?”
She rolled her eyes at me. “No. A stick in the mud.”
The baby squirmed and got a wrinkly face and finally let out a giant burp. A strange sound for such a tiny little thing. Ani placed her deftly on her shoulder and patted her back. “See?” she said with a poignant look. “She agrees.”