37. Nadia
37
NADIA
W hen we get the call that Camryn has checked into the hospital, Mom and I quickly pack the car to drive to LA.
Dad stays behind with the cats. He holds Ferris and Doppelg?nger as he says, “I’ve seen lots of babies. You ladies take care of Cam.”
Mom’s eyes tear up again. She keeps having bursts of crying. This is the first Pickle grandbaby on Uncle Sherman’s side. She’s in deep mourning for her sister, Aunt Pat, who isn’t here to meet her first granddaughter. She died so young.
I drive through the desert, mostly holding Mom’s hand. I know she’s worried Max will be sad about his mom, and Uncle Sherman will be clueless without Pat to navigate this huge family moment.
“I’m going to be there for her,” Mom says. “Cam’s family isn’t worth a damn. She doesn’t have a mother figure anywhere.”
She’s right. There is a huge rift between Cam and her family. She and her brother Franklin were close growing up, having to raise themselves with delinquent parents. Franklin was wildly overprotective and didn’t want her dating anyone.
But then Camryn met Max. He was Franklin’s best friend back then.
Things got tough when Franklin declared his sister off limits, leading to blows, and ultimately a disaster that forced Cam to cut her brother out of her life.
Now he’ll be an uncle, if they can all mend the bridge. Uncle Sherman won’t encourage it. Max might.
But regardless of what happens in Camryn’s family, the Pickles are strong. “Granny Alma will be with us too,” I tell her. “We’re going to surround them with love.”
Mom sniffs, pressing a tissue to her nose. “We will.”
After ten hours of driving, we contemplate stopping for the night in Vegas, but Mom takes a driving shift. We arrive in LA around ten p.m.
“Should we go to the hospital?” Mom asks, gripping the wheel as we navigate the mostly empty highways.
“I have a key to their house if you want to sleep. The last update was that they expected the baby in the middle of the night.” I’ve been texting with Max.
“That’s a long labor,” Mom says. “It only took six hours with you.”
“What about Rhett? Do first babies take longer?”
She nods, glancing down at my phone for navigation. “He was eight.”
“Cam is so tiny. I don’t see how that baby can even be in there.”
“It’s amazing how we stretch.” Mom exits, and I see we’re heading toward South General.
Would Dalton be at the hospital? I haven’t texted him to tell him that Camryn is there. Isn’t he on the maternity ward now? I’ve only had scant details of his move to neonatology. I’m not clear if the NICU is on the same level as regular maternity. Probably. It would make sense.
What if I see him?
I probably look a fright. I pull down the mirror, blinking at the automatic light. My hair is all over the place, falling from the messy bun I shoved it into when we got the message that Cam’s water had broken.
I didn’t shower. I threw on a pair of sweats.
Why didn’t I think this through?
I tug my hair down, but that’s not much better. It cascades over my shoulders in a snarled mass, half straight, half crimped from the elastic band.
Mom glances over at me. “I don’t think anyone will care how you look.”
Right. Dalton was a roommate. I can’t mention him.
I say the only thing I can think of. “Max will tease me.”
“He’ll do that no matter what.”
That’s true. All the cousins are close, but I’ve always had a special relationship with Max. It’s one of the reasons I ran to his deli when I graduated, trying to avoid the Pickle empire.
And I’d done it. I’m well on my way to understanding the business model of animal rescues, and their expenses, their needs, how they operate.
I’m happy there. And I have the family’s blessing.
I snap the mirror closed and throw my hair back into its messy bun. It’s fine. I probably won’t see him, anyway.
We pass the entrance to the ER, and I can picture Dalton standing out there, opening the door of the car he called after my bar debacle. It seems so very long ago.
Mom turns into the garage, and I have to bite my lip to stem the flood of emotion. I want to see him. I will see him. It would be wrong not to see him while I’m here.
I jerk my hair down again and rake my fingers through it. I have lip gloss in my bag. I can tidy up. There will be hours to wait.
And it’s not like Dalton and I went on fancy dates or dressed up for each other. Our entire relationship had been built on our shared apartment. Regular meals. Watching television. Playing with cats.
This is the version of me he knew best.
I slide the elastic on my wrist. “You ready for this?” I ask Mom.
She nods, also dropping her mirror to look at herself. “I cried off my mascara.”
“I never had any to begin with.”
She rubs her finger under her eyes and grins. “Good thing we’re not walking any red carpets while we’re here.”
“You never know.”
She flips up the visor and kills the engine. “I’m glad we came together.”
“It’s going to be so great. A girl! A little girl Pickle.”
She laughs. “Every Pickle’s a Pickle.”
We head inside, navigating the labyrinth of the hospital as we follow the signs to the elevators.
Seventh floor. As we go up, I wonder if Dalton takes this elevator, or if there is one for doctors that he uses. There’s no mirror in here, so I can’t judge what I look like in my sweats, all stretched out from the drive.
It’s fine.
We step out of the elevator immediately opposite the glass windows of the nursery. Only one newborn is in there, red-faced and crying as he’s cleaned by a nurse. Four gray-haired family members stand close together, filming every moment with their phones.
Mom slides her arm through mine. “This is a happy place.”
“I think that baby in there might disagree.”
She laughs. “It’s a big shift from a watery slumber to the real world.”
“Is it too late for me to go back in?”
She laughs. “If only I could keep you that close for always.”
The nurse’s station is empty, but I already have the room number. I point at a plate on the wall. “Room 739 is that way.”
“Did you get an update since the last one?” Mom asks.
“No. It’s been an hour.”
“Oh, it would be so great if she’s been born.”
We hurry down the hall, passing a cluster of chairs with a TV in the corner. I stop when I spot Uncle Sherman. “Hey!”
Mom turns to see who I’m talking to. “Sherman! What are you doing out here?”
“I got kicked out.” He sits with his elbows on his knees, his hands tightly together.
I sit next to him. They might not want more visitors if things are intense. “How did you get here so fast?” Sherman lives in New York.
“Dell let me use his plane. Grammy came with me. She’s in the room. Camryn doesn’t want anyone else until it’s done. She was struggling.”
Mom sits on the other side of him. “Then we’ll wait with you.”
“Jason’s on the way, flying up from Austin. He’ll be here in a couple of hours. Anthony is driving up in the morning.”
“I didn’t even think to text him,” Mom says. “We could have all come together.”
“Anthony’s not in Boulder at the moment,” Sherman says. “There’s a cooking event in Vegas. I told him to finish up and come tomorrow. Baby’ll be here all the same.”
“It will be nice to see all the boys,” Mom says.
Uncle Sherman nods, his hands nearly white from his tight grip. His eyes are red. Has he been crying?
“I’ll go get us all some coffee,” I say. “It might be a long night.”
Mom nods. She takes Sherman’s hands.
I figure they might want to talk about Aunt Pat. I hurry down the hall when a long, guttural cry from a nearby room startles me.
Whew. That’s intense. I might stick with cats.
I keep going, assuming I’ll find vending of some sort, eventually. Every hospital show I’ve ever watched has shown people getting coffee from a machine. There’s bound to be one somewhere.
I turn a corner, surprised to see another bank of windows with a nursery. Did I make a circle?
But the baby and grandparents are gone. This one is darkened, with blinking lights on tall equipment among the rows of enclosed plastic beds.
The NICU.
There’s a small glassed-in office with a nurse inside typing on a computer. She slides a window open when she sees me. “Visiting hours are nine a.m. to four. A parent will need to escort you.”
“Oh, I’m just looking for coffee.”
She smiles. “I see. There’s a family station in every hall. It’s marked with a sign. There’s juice, snacks, and coffee for the laboring moms and their guests. You might have to check more than one to find a warm pot at this hour.”
“Thank you.” That’s nice that they have stations for us.
I’m about to walk away, but I hesitate. The woman is about to close the window when she notices. “Did you need something else?”
“Do you know Dalton Murphy? I think he’s an intern on this floor.”
“Sure. Dr. D is very popular around here. The moms love him.”
My heart swells to know he’s doing well. “Is he here tonight?”
“Sure, he’s in here. You want me to see if he’s available?”
“Oh. I couldn’t bother him.”
But she’s already getting up. She leaves through an interior door between her office and the NICU.
I walk past the secure door to the windows to watch her navigate the rows. There’s an order to them. Closest to the door and her office are low, clear beds with wiggling babies. There are moms inside, rocking in chairs, some of them holding their infants.
But as she walks, the beds get more elaborate, with more machinery. There are parents there too, but none of them hold their babies. Some of the set-ups are elaborate with handmade signs and stuffed animals atop the machines.
My throat tightens. How hard it must be to live on such a knife’s edge.
She stops, and I peer into the shadows through the glass.
Then I see him, surprised at how easily I recognize the shape of his frame, the movement of his stride.
I know the moment he sees me too, because his step falters, then he’s closer, and I can make out his eyes above a mask.
He waves, and I wonder if he’s stuck in there, locked in, if there is some procedure to keep it safe and germ free.
But then he pushes a button, and he’s out in the hall.
Dalton.
It’s been less than two months, but it feels like a lifetime. He looks the same in light blue scrubs. He pulls down the mask to show his smile. He’s scruffy, so it must be the end of a long shift.
And I’m so happy to see him. It all floods back at me.
Dalton. Our home. Our life. Our cat family.
I let out a cry, and there’s no space for niceties. No “hello” or “How are you?” I’m in his arms, and he holds me tightly. Then I’m crying on his shoulder.
He doesn’t ask questions or say anything at all. He just hangs on.
We remain a tight ball until I hear the slide of the glass again.
It’s the nurse. “Dr. D, Jamie is about to come on shift. Why don’t you go on home?”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll tell Davison you’ve clocked out. We don’t have any high-risk labors on the floor.”
He pulls away and takes my hand. “Thanks, Amy.” We walk along the halls. “Did your cousin have her baby?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you want to check on her?”
“I was off getting coffee for family when I found the NICU in my wandering.”
“I can help with that.” He leads me to one of the family stations. “This is the good one. Angelica, one of the RNs, always keeps hot coffee in it.”
We push through the door to the aroma of a French mocha. It’s heavenly. Dalton lets go of me and starts pulling cups. “How many did you need?”
“Three. My mom is here. And Uncle Sherman.”
“Oh, the hard one.”
“Not so hard. He let me go.”
Dalton fills each of the cups from the machine and caps them. “For the rescue? He approved?”
I realize how little we’ve talked lately. “Yes, he’s signed on as an angel investor.”
He hands me a cup. “Should we deliver these?”
“I … uh.” I don’t know what to say. My emotions are tumbling over each other.
Then our gazes clash, and I know he’s feeling it, too. We both set down our cups, and this time when we come together, it’s not an embrace but an unbridled kiss.
Our mouths lock together, our bodies pressed so hard I can feel the strings of my sweatpants pushing against my belly.
He tastes like coffee already, another hint at the length of his shift, and I take in everything about him like I’ve never known it, like I’m discovering him again for the first time.
Dalton and I lived together, slept together, and had many intimate moments.
But this is different. Desperate. Uncontrolled. He lifts me onto the counter, wrapping my legs around his waist.
I can’t get enough of him, my hands gripping his shoulders, our tongues clashing. He rocks against me, and I curse my sweatpants, his scrubs. I want him with an ache I’ve never known before. It’s not just an emotion, but a physical pain.
His hands slide beneath my sweatshirt, cupping my bra. He touches me as if he’s dying, as if my skin is the only thing that stands between him and catastrophe.
Then the air changes, and a startled, “Oh!” breaks through.
I pull away.
The door has opened.
God. It’s Mom.
My mom.
“Nadia?” She glances back at the door. “I thought you got lost.”
Dalton steps back, tugging at the blue cap covering his hair.
Mom waves her hand toward the hall. “A nurse said you were in here…” she trails off.
I can’t imagine what she thinks. That I jumped a hot doctor faster than a character in Grey’s Anatomy?
I let out a long, slow breath. “This is Dalton.”
Mom flashes an uncertain smile, but there’s some relief there, too. Maybe she did think I jumped a random doctor. “The roommate?”
“Yes.” I jump down from the counter and straighten my sweatshirt. This is too much.
“Nice to meet you, Dalton,” Mom says. “I’m Caprice Armstrong, Nadia’s mother.”
At the word mother , Dalton takes another step back, but then he recovers. “Mrs. Armstrong, it’s nice to meet you.” He extends a hand. “You’ve met our kittens, then. The kittens. Uh, Nadia’s kittens.”
Yeah, he’s nervous.
Mom looks back and forth between us. “I take it there was more than a roommate situation happening.” She frowns. “It must have been hard, leaving, then.”
I glance over at Dalton. His mouth is a tight line.
This conversation is for another time. “Is there any news on Camryn?”
Mom shakes her head. “Still in labor.” She spots the coffee cups. “Were these ours?”
“Uh, yes.” I pass her two of the cups. “I was, uh, about to head that way.”
Now Mom bites back a smile. “Sure you were.” She turns to the door, then realizes she can’t open it with her hands full. “Dalton, do you mind?”
He leaps forward to get the door.
“I’m going back to Sherman,” she says. “You know, it might make sense for you to get some sleep. Why don’t you head out? I’ll keep you updated.”
“Okay,” I say. “I guess I can go to Camryn’s.”
Mom glances back at the two of us. “Of course. Camryn’s. ” She says it like she knows dang well we’ll head to our apartment. “I’ll text you as things progress.”
Then she’s gone again.
Dalton pulls off his cap. “Well, that secret is out.”
I turn to him. “It should never have been a secret. I don’t know why I ever thought that was important.”
He stands there, watching me, then tosses the paper cap in the trash bin. “I’m off. Are we going home?”
I draw in a deep breath. Home . “Yes. Please. Take me there.”
And I do mean take me .