Chapter 16 Sage
SAGE
I haven’t let go of the handouts Enid gave me before we left the clinic. They’re clutched so tightly in my hands, I’ve put creases in the paper.
Hearing the heartbeat for the first time was emotional in a way I wasn’t expecting.
The first thing I thought was that I wished my mom was there, the second was how grateful I was to have Brady by my side.
Seeing him get choked up over the audible proof of our baby’s existence was beautiful, and for a moment I imagined a different reality.
One where our baby had two parents who were dedicated to giving them a happy life full of love and happiness.
Two parents who were together, true partners in life and love.
It’s a reality I’ve never once allowed myself to picture with anyone. Not even a faceless, nameless, imaginary person.
Brady pulls his car into a parking spot back at the hotel and turns the engine off before twisting in his seat to face me. “Are you okay?”
It’s the first words either one of us has spoken since walking out of the midwife’s office.
I nod. “Yeah, are you?”
He gestures to the papers in my hand. “I’m fine. Great, even. But if we’re gonna read through any of the information Enid gave us, maybe you should relax your grip.”
“Oh.” I huff out a short laugh, and let the papers settle on my lap, smoothing the creases. “Oops, sorry.”
Brady’s hand lands at the base of my neck, rubbing back and forth lightly. It's meant to be a soothing gesture, I’m sure, but it’s also intimate in a way that makes my mouth suddenly feel dry.
“Don’t apologize. If I’m honest, I’m also feeling majorly overwhelmed. In a good way, but yeah. I’m great, and…”
“Same. Great, overwhelmed, happy, all the feelings, all at once,” I interrupt and we both laugh.
“Exactly.”
He pulls his hand away, and I immediately miss the grounding feeling of physical contact with him. I could reach out and take his hand. I’m almost positive he would welcome that. But something stops me from initiating.
“Do you want to go inside and talk about everything?” I blurt out before the stupid part of me that’s scared can stop me. “There’s a coffee shop attached to the lobby, we could sit and look over what Enid gave us.”
Brady’s happy nod comes instantaneously. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
He hops out of the car and jogs around to my side to open the door, all in the time it takes for me to undo my seat belt and pick up my bag.
“Thank you.”
The rain has stopped, thank goodness, so we aren’t soaked walking the short distance from the parking lot to the entrance of the hotel.
Stepping through the front door, we come to an abrupt stop.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, my eyes going wide as I look at the mess in front of us.
Instead of the hotel lobby, it’s as if we stepped into the aftermath of a tidal wave.
Most of the marble floor appears to be under an inch of standing water that ripples every time someone moves.
The tall plants that flank the check-in desk are drowning, their pots full to the brim with water, and leaves covered in droplets like they’d just been through a storm.
I can see a few groups of guests huddled together, towels draped over their shoulders, holding plastic bags full of what I assume are their belongings.
Somewhere, I can hear water dripping. A relentless sound that makes me wonder if I’ve gone insane and am imagining all of this.
Then Brady’s voice brings me back, confirming that no, this is reality.
“What the hell happened?” he mutters, taking my arm and leading me to the front desk. “Careful, don’t slip.”
He guides me around a large pool of water and we approach the concierge, where a staff member is valiantly trying to mop up around the desk.
“Excuse me, I’m staying in room 430. Um, what happened?”
The harried staff member tries to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace.
“Hello ma’am, I’m so sorry about this. We had a building-wide malfunction with the sprinklers, and unfortunately, most of the guest rooms and lobby were all flooded.
We’re currently relocating guests to our sister hotel across town.
” They type at the computer, then wince.
“Ah…oh dear. They’re full.” They look up at me nervously.
“I’m terribly sorry. I can call some other hotels for you, and of course, your stay will be covered by us. ”
“Sage.” Brady tugs on my elbow, breaking me from my mental paralysis. “You can stay with me.”
It takes a minute for what he’s saying to register. “What?”
The concierge speaks before Brady can repeat his offer. “If you’re able to stay with friends or family, you’ll receive a credit for a future stay. I can also offer a refund on the last three days to compensate for any inconvenience.”
I’m barely listening to them, my gaze fixed on Brady, but he has the wherewithal to give them a nod of acknowledgment.
“Thanks. Can she go up to her room to get her stuff?”
“Yes, I do apologize for any damage the water may have caused. We have insurance claim forms you can fill out. Here’s the web link for them.”
Brady takes the card, then gently guides me away from the desk and over to a plastic folding chair that I assume has been brought to the lobby since the cushioned furniture is all soaked.
“Sit down,” he says calmly, before crouching in front of me and placing his hands on my thighs. “What were we saying about feeling overwhelmed?” He cracks a smile, but I can’t bring myself to do the same.
“What the hell am I going to do?” I eventually manage to croak out.
“Stay with me,” he replies.
“I can’t do that,” I say feebly.
“Sure you can. I have a spare bedroom set up for my siblings that you can have. And my apartment is on a bus route so you can get to work on days I can’t drive you.
I know it sounds crazy, and I’m sure that beautiful head of yours is overthinking this, but you’ll be safe, and best of all, dry, at my place. ”
He stands up and holds out a hand.
“Do you trust me?”
I stare up at him for a long second and it hits me. I do trust him.
“Yes.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles.
Standing up, I take his hand, the solid strength he’s offering, and accept it.
He gives my hand a light squeeze. “Come on, let’s grab your stuff and go home.”
Everything I brought with me, with the exception of the few things I had locked in the room safe, is soaked.
I pick up the dripping wet book I was reading and drop it in the garbage can Brady just emptied of water.
When it hits the bottom of the can with a wet thump, Brady makes a noise suspiciously like a whimper. I look over to see him frowning at the garbage can that now holds the destroyed book.
“They need to make waterproof books,” he mutters, and despite the stress of everything, I find my lips curving up in a smile.
The snacks and some of my toiletry items that are ruined soon follow the book into the garbage can.
“At least shoes and clothes can be washed and dried,” Brady says as he places another bag full of my stuff by the door.
“Yeah,” I reply numbly.
Eventually, with a car full of my wet belongings, we get to Brady’s apartment.
He parks, and I climb out of the car, my feet dragging. The exhaustion of working a busy night shift, the emotional highs of our midwife appointment, and the chaotic lows of my hotel being flooded has me feeling drained in a way I don’t think I’ve ever experienced in my life.
Brady comes around the car and holds out his hand. It only feels natural to take it, something I’ll think about later when I’m not this tired.
“I’ll let you in, then come back for your stuff.”
I pull him to a stop. “No, I’ll help. Let’s take some stuff up now.”
Fixing me with a stern look, Brady shakes his head. “Sage, you’re dead on your feet. You need to rest.”
I muster up the energy to respond with a lightness I don’t actually feel. “Wow, you’ve really got dad-mode figured out, haven’t you?”
But then, a wide yawn escapes me
“Fine, you win. I am tired.”
I let Brady lead me up to the apartment building and inside, all the way to the elevators. Only then do I drop his hand and sag against the wall.
“Okay, scratch that. I’m exhausted.” Another yawn breaks free.
He chuckles, and when the elevator doors open, gestures for me to go first. “C’mon sleepyhead.”
I hadn’t given any thought to what Brady’s apartment might be like, but the clean, warm, cozy-feeling room I step into a minute later is a welcome sight. And despite my exhaustion, curiosity wins out as I take a minute to look around.
There’s a big couch dominating the space, with a large TV hung on the wall.
Windows let in plenty of natural light, and a tall plant is in the corner.
A real plant, not plastic. Photos are scattered across walls and surfaces, mostly of him and two younger people I recognize as his siblings, but there are some older ones, with adults I can only assume are his parents.
And there are books everywhere. A huge bookshelf lines one wall, packed full of books. On the coffee table, I see a stack of not one, not two, but three pregnancy and baby care books, alongside a notepad and pen, the top page already half filled with scrawled notes.
Without realizing, I’ve drifted over to them, unaware that Brady’s followed me until he clears his throat.
“Uh, if you want to read any of those you can, not that I think you need to, but you can if you want to.”
I turn and look at him over my shoulder. “Can you fill me in on the important stuff you’ve learned?”
He nods quickly with a soft smile. “Yeah, of course.” Then, tilting his head toward a short hall, he says, “C’mon, I’ll show you around.”
First, he opens the door to a very clean-looking bathroom. “I’ve got an ensuite, so this bathroom is all yours.”
Then, he opens the door across from the bathroom.
“This is my room.”
I peek inside, spying a king-size bed with dark sheets and a blanket that looks incredibly cozy. And of course, more books. But these ones have something on top.
“Do you wear glasses?” I blurt out, staring at the small wire frames, suddenly picturing Brady shirtless in bed, wearing glasses, reading a book.
Good. Lord. I start to feel warm all over and discreetly take a breath in and out, trying to calm down.
“Yeah, just when I’m reading,” he mumbles.
As we turn to move on, I give in to temptation and murmur under my breath loud enough so he can hear me, “That’s really hot.”
At the last door, this one next to the bathroom, he opens it wide but stands in the doorway so I have to brush against his body as I walk past.
“This is yours.” His voice is gruff and low.
I walk to the bed and sit down on the edge of it before popping the tension that’s building with yet another embarrassingly large yawn.
“Hold on.” Brady disappears before I can say anything, only to reappear with what looks like a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. “Here, in case you want to change into something else to sleep in.”
I glance down at my jeans, then back up at him. “Thank you. I’ll try to line up some appointments to look at other places tomorrow. There were a few I found on my lunch break last night.”
Not great ones, but at least there are options now.
I thought Brady would be relieved or even happy to hear that, but instead, his expression goes flat.
“No rush.” He steps forward quickly and hands me the clothes, then steps back to the doorway, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’ll, ah, go get your stuff and let you rest.”
Pivoting on one foot, he’s gone again, leaving me alone in his apartment holding the clothes that are soft and smell like him.
My eyes are starting to droop as I change quickly, forgoing the shorts and simply putting on his large T-shirt. As I pull back the blankets and climb into the very comfortable bed, my last thought is one I never expected to have—at least not without a healthy dose of denial and resistance.
It would be very easy to get used to being taken care of by Brady Dixon.