Best I Ever Had, page 30
Leaning back again, he crosses an ankle over the opposite knee. “What kind of privileges would those be?”
Rolling my wrist, I say, “You know, for information and access. Stuff like that.”
His gaze travels past me to the nurses’ station before he pushes to his feet. “This isn’t my hospital, but it’s worth a try.”
“Thank you,” I say, punching the air in encouragement. If he can get any information, it would be better than what we have now.
He’s up there too long, leaning on the high counter as if two long-lost friends have run into each other. And the nurse is a little too into it. I roll my eyes, but he catches me as he returns. Smirking, he asks, “What’s that about?”
“Nothing. Any update?”
“There were no complications, and he’s recovering just fine.”
An audible sigh of relief escapes me. “That’s good news.” I don’t know why I reach for his hand, but ours slip together so easy, and I squeeze. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He squeezes mine right back, and we sit there holding hands until a nurse finally comes out looking for us . . . looking for me.
“Mrs. Salenger?” My eyes dart to Cooper and then to the nurse.
I stand. “It’s Ms.”
The nurse continues, “Everything went well. The doctor is finishing with another emergency that came in. Come on back. I’ll take you to Reed’s room where she’ll talk to you in there.”
We start walking, but then I stop and look back.
As if she can read my mind, the nurse says, “I’m sorry, we can only have one visitor at a time since it’s after dinner.”
Cooper gives me a reassuring nod. I soak it in, remembering how I always felt safe and cared for with him around. “Thank you,” I mouth, turn back, and keep walking, not sure if I’ll see him again tonight.
After going over everything with the doctor and hearing the care instructions for when I take him home, I check on Reed, covering him with the blanket and making sure water is ready on the side table for when he wakes up. The sound of my son’s heartbeat through the monitor gives me comfort, knowing it’s strong and steady. I eventually sit on the vinyl loveseat, not sure if it will be an hour or three before he wakes.
With time flowing as slow as molasses, I get up, too unsettled to sit for long, cross my arms over my chest, and stare out the cracked open blinds to a view of air-conditioning units and a busy street just beyond. The door clicks behind me, and I look.
I’m not at all disappointed to see Cooper—quite the opposite—but I am confused. “They only said one visitor. How did you get in?”
“I walked,” he says with a smile. My mind fills in the ba dum bump. I roll my eyes and grin, but he’s already busy checking the equipment and reading vital signs. He ducks back out and grabs the chart from outside the door. Apparently, everything looks as it should because he appears satisfied when he returns it to the hook.
I find relief seeing the same on his face. It’s nice to have a doctor in the family. . . Reed’s family. I mentally make a note feeling a little sad that a separation between my family and Reed’s can be made.
“I also used my doctor privileges.” Seeing his smirk is a welcome reprieve from the heavy strain of today. When he moves to sit beside the bed, his smirk falls into a gentle smile.
I remember that look, the one that made me feel cherished and loved. I move to the opposite side of the bed, and before the moment gets too heavy, I whisper, “I knew you had superpowers.”
I’m given a glimpse of a smile when Cooper glances up at me. His eyes return to Reed, and he sweeps his hair to the side. I’d never noticed that my son had the same cowlick as Cooper until I see them together now.
He’s my son through and through, but I feel like an intruder, so I step back and give Cooper time alone with him. Sitting on the loveseat, I’m sure the emotional drain is from the day, but for some reason, my chest feels heavier, the heart clench stronger watching Cooper with his son.
He stays, taking everything in about him that he can. I’m sure he’s spotted the little wave of freckles across his nose that he gets from me. And the minutest bumps on the bridge of his nose that he gets from Cooper. He has my hazel eyes, but those enviable lashes aren’t mine. Reed’s hand is small compared to Cooper’s, but one day, it will be the same or larger than his dad’s.
When Cooper comes to sit next to me, he’s smiling—small but genuine. “I can’t believe I have a child. He’s just . . . everything. So perfect.”
“He is.” I clasp my hands together on my lap.
A shyness comes over him, and he tilts his head down, but he doesn’t look away. “So are you. You’re amazing, Story.”
“He’s the best and brings out the best in me.” Tilting my head to tap his shoulder, I laugh. “And sometimes the worst. I’m not perfect. But for him, I try to be everything he needs.”
His arm comes around me suddenly, and he pulls me into an embrace. It’s shocking, and my emotions go crazy, unsure how to react. But the longer I’m here, the more I let the heavy emotional load I’ve been carrying for years emerge.
Tucked into his arms, I feel safe again. The tears come fast and unexpectedly, but it feels good to set myself free. Reed’s going to be okay. I can finally release some of the worries I’ve been holding so tightly to today and maybe others I’ve held on to for too long.
When I tilt my head to find his eyes, they’re already set on me. My breathing shallows as little things I loved so much with him come back. Forehead kisses and strong arms wrapped around me. Spending hours in bed after the sun set talking about everything and nothing. I still can’t eat strawberry yogurt without remembering how he cared for me when I was sick. My smile grows through the tears, thinking about when we met and the day turning into night and how we were forever for a short time.
The bigger things like the hotel on Christmas and that the camera he gave me was the one I relied on to help to get me through life once he was gone. And although I have a different camera now, that one sits on the same desk I kept like his first note to me once did. I have files upon files of my photography from back then, all because he saw more in my talent than I did.
And for someone who never thought himself worthy, he makes it so hard not to fall in love with him. I rest my head against him, savoring this moment I’ve been gifted once more. Just in case it’s the last time.
“Although you felt you had to protect Reed by leaving me, you saved him. They would have dug their claws in, so I don’t blame you for not telling me or wanting better for him than what I received.”
Sitting back, I’m in awe of him. “I appreciate that you recognize the position I was in and that you’re not holding that grudge between us. I also need you to know that it was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. But your mother . . .” I shudder, remembering how inferior she made me feel. “She treated me so horribly.”
“I know I can’t make it better, but know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for ever putting you in their path.”
“Once she threatened to have me arrested . . .” I wrap my arms around my belly. “She didn’t know I was pregnant, but I couldn’t risk the baby to see you. She made me choose. I was so close to you, but I couldn’t take the risk.”
His brow twists and pinches together in the middle. “What are you talking about?”
“When I came to tell you I was pregnant.” Judging by his expression, he doesn’t register what I’m saying. “I drove to the Haywood house. You didn’t come see me, so I went searching for you instead.”
The vinyl squeaks under him when he sits back and scratches the back of his neck. “When was that exactly?”
“I don’t know the date. I think Saturday or Sunday. After our big fight. When I found out about your involvement—”
“The fight in the rain?” He deflates, his expression falling with his shoulders. “You drove from Atterton to tell me you were pregnant?”
“I did, but your mother wouldn’t let me see you.”
Leaning forward, he takes my hand. It’s a bold move, but the dormant butterflies in my stomach are awakened as he holds it again. “I need you to listen to me, Story.”
“Okay, but you’re scaring me.”
His hold on me tightens. “I don’t mean to. I just . . . Wow. I . . .” He looks up at the ceiling and then takes a deep breath. When he turns back to me, he says, “I was never told you came by.”
“I’m not surprised.” I can’t help but inject my own commentary when it involves his parents.
“My phone was stolen, and I didn’t get a replacement for a while. You were going to tell me about the baby?”
“Of course. I never said goodbye.” I caress his cheek, trying to calm the frenzy in his eyes. “I knew that no matter what was said or happened prior, you deserved to know about our child.”
Water glistens in his eyes. “You tried to tell me.”
He’s not asking the question, but it lies in the greens of his eyes. “Yes. I drove to Haywood and made it halfway up the stairs before she told me I had to leave or I’d be arrested. I wouldn’t have put it past her to call the police on me.”
A mixture of sadness and anger weaves through his striking features. “Neither would I.” When he turns to me again, joy is populating his irises. “But you tried. You fucking tried for me.”
I nod as his joy catches fire inside me.
A darkness rolls in, tamping the joy he’d found. He says, “The fight outside your apartment . . . when you left, I went looking for your ex.”
It takes me a moment to piece together that time. “Troy?”
“We had a long-standing feud way before he met you.” Directing his gaze to our clasped hands, he continues, “I didn’t want to die. I just no longer wanted to feel.”
Fear unnerves me as I try to riddle through what that means. “Cooper, what did you do?”
“I didn’t have you, and I didn’t care about anything else, much less myself. I didn’t fight back because I didn’t matter.”
I find his eyes, returning him from the distant memory he was losing himself in. “You always matter to me.” The words come easy and flow from my tongue. Not past but present tense.
Reed stirs, and I’m on my feet. It’s a false alarm as his breathing evens again, and he stays asleep. With my little guy sleeping comfortably, I stand at the window and stare out again. Cooper looks up from the loveseat. “Until today, I never knew you tried to tell me.”
Leaning against the wall, using it to hold me up from the life that’s brought me down, I ask, “You threw yourself to the wolves because you didn’t think I cared.”
“I spent months bitter that I had survived while recuperating. Bitter I didn’t have you in my life.”
It’s a gut punch of information. “It’s frustrating because our lives could have been so different.”
He stands behind me and rubs my arms. “I could have been a dad this whole time.” He leans in and whispers, “I could have been with you all these years.” Those are the words that will haunt me—what could have been.
Does it matter now? We can’t change the past. Does an opportunity lie in the future?
Exhaustion sets in. My mind is too tired to keep going tonight. “I need to rest, Cooper.” I sit down, needing time to process the tragedy that we were so in love and lost it all because of the lies involved. I lean my head on the back cushion, my eyes still locked with his.
He says, “Get some rest.” And then I close my eyes.
My eyelids feel like they have a stack of quarters weighing down on each of them, but I force them open anyway. I yawn, not realizing I’d fallen asleep. A quick glance at the bed tells me Reed is still sleeping. Rest means healing, so I’m not upset, though I am a little anxious.
Cooper’s next to Reed as if he can’t stop hovering. I imagine he would have done the same with Reed in his crib, if given the opportunity. It breaks my heart to know that he’ll never get the chance.
When he sees I’m awake, he comes to sit next to me. Keeping his voice low, he says, “I’m thinking this might not be the time and place for me to meet him. He’ll be waking up just out of surgery and probably scared to be in a hospital bed. That will be a lot for him at his age to take in. I don’t want to add to any anxiety.” The emotions that overwhelmed him at the park return, and his voice cracks. “The focus needs to be on him healing, not on me.”
My heart aches again for him and for Reed for having to miss another opportunity that he’s not even aware of yet. I know that all Cooper wants is to meet his son, and the damn universe is still conspiring against us. Not sure what to say, I sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. It’s not your fault.”
“We’ll set something up for next weekend when he’s home, settled, and I can make sure he’s not in any pain.”
“I think it’s best.” He stands, and I don’t know why I do, but I stand as well. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he says, “I guess I should go before he wakes.”
I walk him to the door like we’re at the end of a first date. The thought gives me pause, and I scold my heart and head for confusing the signs. I bite my bottom lip and tug on it to remind myself that this is not a date and there will be no kiss.
But when I look up at him, he’s watching my mouth like he wouldn’t be upset if it was pressed to his right about now. It’s not, though, and I need to force distance between us before I cave in. “Thank you for being here.”
“Of course. We have each other’s numbers now, so call or text me if you need anything, anything at all.”
“I have a question.”
He stays, suddenly not eager to leave. “What is that?”
“What kind of doctor are you?” I get that a dentist is a highly trained and skilled physician, but I’m going to be really disappointed if that’s what kind of doctor Cooper Haywood is.
And there’s that smirk . . . please don’t be a gynecologist either.
“I’m a pediatrician.”
And just like that, I’m swooning for this man again.
When he walks out, I’m left with a stupid grin that stays way past its invitation. I go to the bed to check on Reed again. If I could crawl in without hurting him, I’d let him snuggle up to me like we do on Sunday morning.
He’ll be excited about the cast, feeling very big boy that he’s part of the broken bone club. With him sound asleep, though, I settle back on the vinyl loveseat and close my eyes to sneak in a few winks before he wakes.
My phone buzzes with a text shortly after. Cooper: Despite the broken bone and hospital visit, it was amazing to see him, and it was really good to spend time with you again.
I smile, holding my phone to my chest and letting this little bliss I’ve found get the best of me since there are no witnesses.
Cooper: Too much too soon?
Giggling, I text him back: Not too much. I pause and take a breath before adding: Not soon enough.
39
Cooper
One Week Later . . .
* * *
Me: I’m fucking nervous.
Story: Don’t be. You’re meeting him today as Mommy’s friend.
What the hell am I supposed to say to that?
“Mommy’s friend?” I grumble. It’s sad that our kid will never know just how amazing his mommy and I were together, how we used to laugh until our cheeks hurt and never needed alcohol or drugs because we were so high on each other. It’s too bad he’ll never see how we loved so hard and were willing to risk it all for each other until we couldn’t any longer.
I thought being Story’s ex was bad. Now, I’m relegated to Mommy’s friend. That’s worse by all standards. That’s me not even making it up to bat, much less first base or hitting a home run.
Mommy’s friend. Fuck.
Reed is the priority, so I guess I’ll take what I can get when it comes to Story.
Story: Seriously, don’t be worried. I know this is weird, but we’ll get through it together. Let’s try to have fun.
Yeah . . . fun.
What if he doesn’t like me, or we don’t click? I’m envious of parents who get the benefit of that instant bond built from the get-go instead of having to be introduced.
I pull on a dark gray T-shirt and some jeans. I’m not sure what’s been planned other than Lila’s hosting a barbecue at her place to keep things “light.” That also means Reed has Jake to play with if things go south. Story didn’t say that, but I could tell she was covering her bases just in case.
Since I have a few stops to make, I head out to hop on the subway.
I grew up running around the city and the five boroughs, but a lot has changed in the past ten years. I don’t even recognize this Brooklyn neighborhood. With my hands full, I ring the bell of the restored brownstone and wait.
I wasn’t nervous when I met Story or when I took the MCAT. I wasn’t nervous about suing my parents or pursuing a career as a doctor.
Meeting my kid for the first time? Now, I’m fucking nervous.
The door opens, but some guy is standing inside. Something is vaguely familiar about him that I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Hey,” he says as if he had to muster the greeting. “I’m Lou.”
Lou? Lou . . . “Oh Lou! Whoa, man, you’re a blast from the past.” And now I’m nervous again. Is Story dating Lou? Motherfu—
“Cooper, come on in,” Lila says, swinging the door open wider. “Why are you guys just standing here?” She reaches forward and takes the bag from me. “You’ve got your hands full. You know it’s just a casual get-together, right? You didn’t have to bring all this.”
“I wanted to.”
“Well, I’m not going to say no to all the cheeses one could ever want. Lou’s lactose intolerant,” she says, thumbing over her shoulder at him.
“Sorry, man,” I say.
