Epilogue
TWELVE YEARS LATER
“Dr. Ambrose?”
“Come in,” I call out, finishing up my last email.
The door opens, and when I glance up, I see Dr. Browne, one of our newest residents, standing in my doorway with tense shoulders and fingers wrapped around the strap of her bag like she’s using it to steady herself.
“Dr. Browne,” I say, surprised. “Is everything alright?”
“I was wondering if I could speak to you?”
“Of course, have a seat,” I say, gesturing to the chairs across my desk.
My eyes go back to the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard as I finish setting up my Out of Office Automatic Reply. Then I firmly shut my laptop. No need to open it again for the next two weeks.
I’m on vacation.
Dr. Browne shyly sits down, looking a little green.
“I don’t think I’m cut out for oncology,” she says, her voice soft and filled with more than a little self-reproach.
That confuses me because Dr. Browne is exceptional—a Harvard Medical School graduate, top of her class, with a stack of recommendation letters that had been placed on my desk before her interview.
She had been an automatic yes for me. She has it.
The compassion, the instinct, and the technical skill to back it up.
I don’t know who put this insecurity in her, but I don’t like it.
“That’s not what I’ve been hearing,” I say, folding my hands on my desk. “Mimi tells me you have a real knack for patient care. And if Mimi is paying you a compliment, then you are excelling in this space.”
Dr. Browne’s furrowed brow softens slightly as she asks, “Really?”
“I’m your Chief of Medical Oncology,” I remind her with a small chuckle. “It’s my job to be critical of your patient care. I have nothing to note as of yet. Granted, it’s only been a month, but you’re doing everything right so far.”
“I just…” She exhales, frustrated with herself. “I don’t know if I’m breaking the news to patients correctly. I hear you do it, and you’re incredible at it, Dr. Ambrose. Truly. Even when you’re giving a terminal diagnosis.”
“Dr. Browne, I was not perfect at this from the jump,” I tell her, suspecting that’s the main issue.
She’s hard on herself because she thinks she should already know how to do the hardest part of the job, which is a very difficult thing for an overachiever to stomach.
“This specialty is not gentle while you learn. But we need people like you. Technical skills develop with time, repetition, and experience.”
Dr. Browne nods, but she doesn’t look fully convinced.
So I press a hand over my chest, right over my heart.
“But you have the kindness I can’t teach,” I say.
“Your patients need that more than anything while they’re here.
They don’t need their physician rattling off microbiology fun facts when their entire life is changing in front of them.
They need someone to be gentle with them.
Someone who sees them as a person and not just a diagnosis. ”
Her eyes shimmer, and she quickly blinks it away, and I pretend not to notice.
“Thank you, Dr. Ambrose,” she says before her attention drifts toward the frame on my desk. Her expression lightens as she points to it. “Is that your family?”
My lips curve into a smile instantly, my eyes trailing over the picture.
I pick up the picture and hand it to her because I am more than a little crazy about the three people in it. My heart outside my body. Dr. Browne takes it with a fond expression as I gesture to each of them, all of us dressed in sky blue on the beach for our annual family photos.
“Yes. My husband, Teddy,” I say proudly, my finger automatically touching my moonstone engagement ring. “Our daughter, Ella. She’s nine. And our son, Teddy Two. He just turned seven.”
“Teddy Two,” Dr. Browne repeats, chuckling as she hands the frame back. “They’re beautiful.”
“Yeah…” I smile, my fingers gently brushing against each of their faces. “They sure are.”
Teddy and I were married a year after we got engaged. We didn’t want the huge church, white dress, penguin suit affair. We wanted our chosen friends and family with us.
And we wanted something completely nontraditional.
Vegas.
When I called my friends, they were ecstatic and met us in Sin City.
Petra and the girls set me up with an entire day of pampering while Teddy, Heath, and Luke played blackjack in the casino.
That night, I wore a rather risqué short white dress that made Teddy’s eyes glaze over, and we were married at the Little White Chapel by Elvis, which we knew Ellie would have gotten a kick out of.
Another perk was knowing Dawn’s head would spin on its axis if she ever found out her baby boy got married in a place she would have deemed trashy and uncouth.
It was perfect.
We exchanged Nana and Pop’s rings, taking them off the chains around our necks and sliding them onto each other’s fingers, where they fit as if they had always belonged there.
Because they did.
I like to think Ellie left us those rings because there was some gravitational pull to them. Some quiet magic that led Teddy and me back together as we fixed ourselves into the versions we each needed.
Not too long after, we found out I was pregnant with our firstborn—our daughter, Ella.
I was terrified when we found out, thinking that I was just going to mess it all up. That I would just turn into my parents, that the timing wasn’t right with work.
And then we had the first ultrasound, and as Teddy held my hand, we listened to her heart beating strongly. I felt another hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly, and I felt Ellie there.
And I knew it was meant to be.
“A little you, baby,” Teddy said, kissing my forehead before groaning. “Oh, God. Wait. A little you. She’s going to look like you. Fuck, I’m in trouble.”
Teddy loves that she’s my little twin. Tall for her age, with long blonde hair and big blue eyes.
She also has my attitude and is very commanding—although I encourage it, because only women get called bossy; men get called leaders.
She’s a bit stubborn and hard-headed, like her namesake—her great-grandmother, Ellie.
Ella is sharp as a whip and an all-star softball pitcher now, which has been interesting, terrifying, and so much fun.
Teddy was constrained by what his parents wanted for him, and I grew up unable to play sports, music, or anything that cost money. So when the kids expressed interest in something—painting, tap dance, lacrosse, Brownies, chess, soccer, ceramics, piano—Teddy and I signed them up.
Even if they only did it for two weeks and hated it, I wanted them to just try. To find the thing that they love.
Ella loves softball and wants to be an Olympic pitcher one day. Knowing my daughter, she’s probably going to make that happen.
We wanted to really focus on Ella before we considered having another. Then, we took a vacation to Greece, where she got to meet her Aunts Petra, Zuri, Genevieve, and Lupita, who spoil her rotten with gifts from all over the world that still show up on our porch each month.
Santorini seems to be a very—ahem—charged place for Teddy and me,, because one night, newly pregnant Petra and Demetri offered to babysit Ella so they could practice, and we could have a date night.
And that night, in our Sea View room, I asked Teddy to crawl to me as he had those years ago, only this time I did not ask him to leave.
And about nine months later, Theodore Ambrose II was born.
“I’m in heaven, honey. You just make little clones,” Teddy said, gently brushing a finger down our son’s little nose as he gently rocked him in his arms.
Six hours postpartum, my hormones were going insane as I tried not to choke up at the sight of our baby tucked safely against my big bear’s chest.
Our little girl slept curled against my side in the hospital bed, having missed me during my longer, more intensive labor with our little bear.
The universe has a funny sense of humor.
Labor with Ella had been such a breeze that I was completely unprepared for our son to make his sudden, early entrance.
Teddy walked over to perch on my other side, pressing a long kiss to my head. His entire face softened as he looked at sleepy Ella, then our newest addition, then me.
“You’ve given me everything I dreamed of,” he whispered, then winked because he is ridiculous and wonderful. “Thank you for my babies, baby.”
I sighed, pressing a kiss to Ella’s soft curls. “Anytime, Teddy bear.”
“Indie,” Teddy said, suddenly serious, his face still soft and tender. I tilted my head. His voice was choked with emotion as he said, “I love you.”
“I love you,” I whispered, smiling wetly. I squeezed Ella and looked at my sleeping newborn. “And these two. You’re my entire world.”
Teddy beamed.
“Is there anything else I can help you with, Dr. Browne?” I ask as I place the frame back on my desk, angling it toward me.
Dr. Browne shakes her head as she stands.
“No, I just…”
“Needed some reassurance,” I finish gently, and she nods, a little reluctant. “Be confident in your abilities. And there’s no shame in asking for help. I’m always available…” I pause, then amend with a wide smile. “Except for the next two weeks. Family time.”
Dr. Browne smiles.
“Thank you, Dr. Ambrose. Enjoy your vacation.”
I sigh happily, tossing my keys and phone into my bag.
“Oh, I plan on it.”
Ella is in the front yard when I pull into the driveway, dressed in shorts and a neon yellow t-shirt from her travel softball team. She’s practicing her pitching on the net contraption her father made her, but she stops when she sees me, a wide grin spreading across her dirt-smudged face.
“Mommy!” she shouts, dropping her glove and barreling toward me.
“Hey, Champ,” I say, opening my arms for her big bear hug, one thing she definitely inherited from her father. I press a kiss to her hair, squeezing her close. “Did you have a good day at camp?”
“Yeah! We played kickball, and I slid into home and scraped up my side, but I scored the winning run!”