I shouldn’t have started. Because now I couldn’t stop. I was like some kind of crazy drug addict, only my choice of drug was Kelly Potter. And I was completely fucking strung out. But I told myself lies.
It had only been weeks since I’d shown up at her apartment and found her and my mom lounging on the sofa together watching a movie.
I’d gone home that night determined to stay away from the sixth floor.
Telling myself she was just a client.
Her daughter, my patient.
I’d hung my blazer in my closet and taken my bow tie off, running my hands through my hair roughly before finally caving and walking the stairs two floors up. I told myself I just wanted to make sure she was settled and that she didn’t need anything.
Another lie.
In truth, I wanted to see her. I’d thought about her nonstop all day.
And seeing her there with my mom, it had done something to me I couldn’t explain. And I was positive I couldn’t explain it because I’d never felt that way before. And when my mom had leaned in and touched her face and spoken so lovingly to her, it had meant something to me. Something sweet, something different than the days I spent helping women save their babies. Something better than that. Something more and I didn’t think that was possible. Because what I did for a living was pretty damn sweet.
And as the weeks passed, I found myself telling more lies. I just wanted her friendship. I didn’t really have very many good friends. I was too busy with my patients. So I told myself I was going there every day after work to hang out. The early days just sitting there on the couch while she ignored me. Just friendship. That’s all I wanted from her.
In truth, I just wanted to be around her. All the time.
More lies. I didn’t think of our night together long ago. I didn’t notice how beautiful she glowed with pregnancy. Her smile didn’t make my heart beat faster. Her laughter didn’t settle over my body like a thick blanket, warming me from the outside in. I didn’t live for her snark, and her witty comebacks didn’t make my cock hard. The brave way she loved and fought for her unborn child didn’t make me proud. No, that could never happen. Because, we couldn’t cross that line.
I was the doctor.
It was impossible.
I couldn’t let myself feel anything for this woman. It would jeopardize her child’s life.
Those were the only truths I told myself those days.
She came into the office for tests and scans and I pretended she wasn’t there, and it was no easy feat with my mother skulking around, interfering, and adoring Kelly far more than I ever thought she could. And I knew what it was. She saw a bit of herself in Kelly and I couldn’t even begin to think about that because it terrified me.
So, I didn’t think about the coming future. I wouldn’t think of the upcoming weeks when things would get harder. I refused to think of the day when I’d finally hold Kelly’s most precious possession in my hands—her daughter’s heart.
I wouldn’t fail her. I couldn’t.
Still, I selfishly marched myself up to her apartment every day after work, dying for just a drink of her company. Just a small sip. My soul felt parched without it. I was too hungry for her and far too greedy, but I just couldn’t bring myself to stop.
That’s why after work, I went right to her, way more excited than I should have been to sit on a couch next to a woman who wasn’t pregnant with my child. I may have snuck off a bit early just so I could see her. Maybe I’d tuck my leg next to hers and feel her thigh pressed to mine. Maybe her hand would graze my own when she passed the remote and that familiar electric current of connection would zap through me. I’d cradle her face in mine, dying for the taste of her mouth. God, I wanted it. I wanted her. I lived for those small morsels of affection she fed me. I was starved for them. Ravenous for her touch.
Today, I let myself in. I unlocked the door with my key, mostly because I loved to see her face when she was all pissed off at me but totally not. She put on a good show, my girl. My girl. She never said anything about me coming right on in, but she most definitely wanted to. Her fire. Her spark. It burned me and I loved it.
Pushing the door open, I immediately noticed how quiet it was. Usually she had music or the TV or something going. Maybe she’d be banging her drums, but not this time. Dead silence greeted me and I walked in quietly, worried since I was early maybe she was napping.
But no, there she lay on the couch in a pair of black sweat pants, a tight white tank top that was pushed up over her belly and under her breasts, exposing her round stomach.
I paused, stunned. She lay there on her back, her eyes closed, earbuds pressed into her ears, her hands resting on her stomach like she was holding something precious. And she was. That baby was everything to her, and I realized in that moment that because of what she meant to her, the baby indeed meant the same to me.
And then something both beautiful and awful happened. With her eyes closed, her mouth opened and she sang the words that took me back. I was immersed so fully in the past that my breath paused.
“You are my sunshine,” she sang in that sultry and sweet way that I knew she didn’t mean to but couldn’t help.
My stomach dropped. My eyes blurred. My head spun. And before I knew it, I was standing here, my hand pressed over my heart.
Boom, boom.
“You are my sunshine.”
Boom, boom.
She just kept singing and my heart kept beating in rhythm. It was amazing. It was awful.
I felt the way I had that night, only twenty times more, and my upside down, out of focus world tipped right side up and everything became crystal fucking clear.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be this to her and save her daughter’s life. I had to choose.
Bringing my hands close to my face, I studied them, through the sting in my eyes. And they’d never looked so fragile. I’d always thought of them as unfailingly strong and capable, but no, not then. They seemed so small in comparison to the three hearts beating in that room.
I swallowed hard, sick to my stomach, terrified out of my mind.
The last few weeks played in my mind like a movie. Lunches out together. Her sweet heart-shaped face in my hands. Movie nights. Baked cookies. The drum kit. That fucking tie.
I loved her. I loved that baby. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. It shouldn’t have. I’d been lying to myself for weeks, but still the emotion bombarded me.
The moment you realize you’re in love should be a moment of elation. Instead, terror filled me. Because I wasn’t just in love with Kelly; I was in love with that child who carried the heart I’d have to operate on.
The night Kelly had been staring at the drums in the dark. It made sense now. She knew. She knew and I’d somehow missed it. Her terrified “We can’t do this anymore” played on repeat in my mind. She’d tried to warn me. She’d tried to stop this all. I’d been so stupid and blind. So stupidly and blindly in love, I realized now. She wanted me to do the surgery. She trusted me. She’d come to me. Only me.
I clenched my big hands into fists and opened them, repeating the process as I stared down at them. Just these two hands, that’s all I had. I’d have to set my heart aside for theirs.
Two hands, three hearts, and I had to save us all. And to do it, I’d have to make the ultimate sacrifice.
Love.