If she wasn’t readily available, I had no interest in keeping this conversation going. Again, I never said I wasn’t the world’s biggest asshole. Turning away, I made my way to their break room. She wasn’t there. Huh. Where would she go? I could look in the cafeteria, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t find her there. Then it hit me. I knew where she was. It was instinct. I had gotten better at reading her over the last couple months, and given the time to think about it, it should have been the first place I looked when they said she wasn’t there.
I used my security card to go through the door of the NICU. I wasn’t familiar with this area of the hospital at all, but it wasn’t that hard to see everything. The room was open with babies in incubators spread throughout the space. I scanned the room for her strawberry blonde hair. Sure enough, there she was. In the back corner, Annabelle sat in a rocking chair, holding quite possibly the smallest baby I’d ever seen. I approached her slowly, like you would walking up on a lion, unsure if it will attack or allow you closer. The air around her screamed protective. She cradled the baby to her chest and if anybody would get too close she looked like she would pounce. I was only a few feet away from her and she still hadn’t seen me. I observed her. She rocked back and forth, and soothingly rubbed his naked back. His fragile body swam in the too large diaper on his lower half, and her other hand held him under his bottom. A few wires kept him connected to the machines that monitored his oxygen levels and pulse. Annabelle whispered words to him that I couldn’t hear. This wasn’t what I expected to walk in to when I caught up with her.
When she spoke about the baby she helped deliver and she would check in on, I assumed she would peek in on him, ask the nurses what his progress was, and would leave. This wasn’t what was happening at all. It was clear as day to me. This baby meant something to her. She felt for him. She was caring for him as if he were her own. My presence became known when she heard a nurse coming up beside me. When her aqua colored eyes met mine, I saw several emotions flash across her face—shock, uncertainty, anger, and embarrassment. I did my best to express understanding without words. I wasn’t judging her. No, I didn’t get what was going on here, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t empathetic and wouldn’t try to understand.
“Turner.” She said my name almost like a question.
I walked closer to where she was rocking ‘til I was directly in front of her. “Hi.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I went to your floor to surprise you, but you weren’t there.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“I didn’t.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It was a guess.”
She watched me with a very calculated look upon her face. I could tell Annabelle had no idea what do to or say, but she was in defense mode. Instead of making a big deal out of seeing her like this, I decided it was best that I shift the subject and mood toward what I intended on asking her before I came down here.
“So I was thinking, dinner at my place might be a good idea.”
“Your place?”
“Yes. I’m kind of a good cook. No worries though, nothing cheesy like candles and Marvin Gaye or anything. I’ll still keep it simple, but I thought another easy and relaxing date would be nice while I think of something else to get you questioning why you say yes to me.” I tossed a smile in her direction, hoping she’d enjoy the tease.
Even though she was holding such a small little person in her hands, her attention was on me and that adorable eyebrow went up. “Dinner at your place, because you’re still thinking of other dates to take me on to make me question my life?”
“Well, that’s one way of thinking of it.”
“Doctor Brooks, you’re not funny.”
“Actually, I am.”
“No, not really.”
“I think I’m hysterical. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t believe you actually asked me a question.”
Touché, sassy girl. I guess I didn’t phrase it like a question. There she goes again, keeping me on my toes. “Would you like to come to my place this evening, so I may cook you dinner, and we could talk and drink wine?”
She cracked a smile at me. “I thought you said there would be no cheesiness?”
I put my hand up to my chest. “There was no cheese in that question.”
She looked at me long and hard, her hand mindlessly patting the infant’s back. “What time do you want me there?”
“Seven. We’ll make it a late dinner.”
“Text me your address and let me know what you need me to bring.”
I winked at her. “Yes, ma’am.” I took a step toward her and bent down. My lips met her forehead and I kissed her. “And we will be talking about this.”
When I pulled away her eyes were huge on her face. I wasn’t trying to scare her, but we’d gone out enough that I should be able to ask some questions and get answers. If she didn’t want to tell me the depths of her feelings that was fine. She would eventually. I was ready for more from Annabelle. I wanted to pick her brain and learn how she ticked. I wanted her physically and in every way possible. I craved her like no other. Tonight, I would get from her what I wanted.
Never had I anticipated Turner coming to the NICU. Him seeing me like that was almost too much. Had I not been holding the baby, I probably would have gotten more upset than I let on. First his mom asking too many questions, now him. And what did he mean we would be talking about this? There was nothing to talk about. It wasn’t any of his business, either. If he thought we were talking about anything relating to this, he was going to be disappointed.
I didn’t have time to think about Turner during the last half of my shift. We had three moms arrive in active labor and all three delivered within an hour of each other. When I finished my portion of the paperwork, I clocked out and headed home. I had thought about when the time would come that I would be stepping foot in Turner’s space, but I figured I would be more nervous than I currently was. I chalked it up to exhaustion. I was dead on my feet and his idea for wine and food sounded amazing to my tired brain and body right now.