I coughed, and Evan looked up. His cheeks were wet. “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“That’s okay,” he said. He sniffed, seemingly unashamed of the fact that he was crying. He had to be at least in his early forties, ten years or so older than me. He was graying at the temples and had open fans of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“Dr. Stewart told you Scout will need to stay with us a few days?”
“He did, thanks.” Evan leaned down to scratch his dog’s head. “Everything’s going to be good, buddy. Jennifer’s going to take care of you now.”
At the sound of my name in his mouth, there was a small, rolling sensation in my belly. I hadn’t felt anything like it since I’d met Michael our sophomore year of high school. I tried to shake the feeling off as I stepped across the room to pick up Scout’s leash. Once I had, I straightened and looked at Evan, who stood up as well. “Chandi should be at the front desk by now,” I said. “Or one of our receptionists. They’ll go over the treatment protocol and let you know when you can visit.”
“Okay,” he said. “Is there a number I can call, just to check on him? See how he’s doing?”
I hesitated only a moment before speaking again. “Sure. In fact, let me give you my home number,” I told him, feeling my face flush. “Just in case you want to call after hours.”
He stared at me for a couple of seconds, and then he smiled, revealing a deep, single dimple in his right cheek. “I appreciate that,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” I replied. I wrote down my number, and Evan stuck it back in his pocket. He squatted down next to his dog and scratched the animal’s chest, whispering something I couldn’t hear into Scout’s furry ear.
“Come on, Scout,” I said, giving the dog’s leash a light tug. I felt Evan’s eyes on my back, and I turned around to smile at him, too. “Try not to worry too much. It’ll be okay,” I said, and then I headed out the door.
Brooke
On the Tuesday morning following the brunch she’d had with her sister, Brooke waited at a table inside Crumble & Flake, the bakery at which she and Natalie had decided to meet. A large, golden-brown croissant sat on a plate before her, but she had a knot in her stomach, and even though she’d been hungry when she ordered it, she felt too nervous to eat. It was a little before ten o’clock, and the air was redolent with the scent of brewing coffee and warm, sugary treats.
Brooke wished she could have a cup of coffee instead of the herbal tea she’d ordered, but she’d read online that pregnant women should avoid caffeine. Which, considering how exhausted she was, felt like an unusually cruel punishment. Along with fatigue, her breasts were tender and her lower back was sore; she couldn’t wait to be further into her second trimester, when most of these issues were supposed to subside. An online check for the size of her baby at thirteen-and-a-half weeks told her that it was approximately three inches long and now had the whorls of prints developing on its tiny fingertips. She still could hardly fathom that all of this was taking place inside her; she wondered when it would begin to feel real.
She realized that if she wanted, she could talk with Natalie about what it was like when her younger sister had been pregnant with Hailey and Henry. She could ask any question and Natalie would surely answer it. But it had been overwhelming enough, seeing Natalie on Saturday, knowing the woman who handed her that well-worn lavender blanket was the baby she’d said good-bye to all those years before. She was terrified of letting Natalie into her world, letting her sister see just how empty it was. She worried that Natalie would get to know her and hate her; that she’d ask about Brooke’s friends and Brooke would have to tell her she didn’t really have any. What if Brooke told her about the baby and Natalie thought she’d be a terrible mother?
Brooke glanced around the shop, trying to distract herself from her negative thoughts. The tables surrounding her were mostly filled with young mothers and their children, along with a few suit-and-tie businessmen typing away on their laptops. One of the latter, an older, dark-haired gentleman wearing horn-rimmed glasses, caught Brooke staring at him, and he raised one of his eyebrows as he smiled back. She immediately dropped her eyes to the floor, not wanting him to think that her look was an invitation to join her.
Fortunately, at that moment the bell on the bakery door sounded, and Natalie entered. She wore snug-fitting dark blue jeans, a double-breasted black wool swing coat, and knee-high black leather boots. Her blond hair was tucked behind her ear on one side, and her cheeks were pink from the cold October air. She waved at Brooke, then came over to join her.
“Hi,” she said as she sat down at the table. “Am I late? I had a hard time finding parking.”