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.
“It’s okay.” He shrugs. “I’m used to it.”
Lila summons me inside. “Looks like a whole charcuterie in this bag. The rest of us can polish it off.”
I step inside, but before I go any farther, I stop to shake Lou’s hand. “It’s good to see you again.”
“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think it would be nice to see you again, but I’ve been hearing good things. So I’ll just leave the past in the past where it belongs.”
“I appreciate that, Lou.”
As I walk toward the back of the house, the sound of the boys outside screaming and having fun drifts through an open back door. I look out the window to see Reed running around with a blue cast on his arm. Lou points at the TV with a game competing for noise, and asks, “You okay with the game on?”
“Sure. I’m not much of a sports guy these days. Not enough time to enjoy it.”
“I hear ya. My software company sold last year to a firm in Silicon Valley. After I finish overseeing the transition, I’m taking Jake on a stadium tour next summer. Twenty stadiums in thirty days. It’s all mapped out.”