Hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks. I floated along through them all on autopilot. Doing what I felt I had to just to get by. Most days counting every hour a blessing. Most nights hardly sleeping from the worry. Hope’s first surgery was just a quick fix. Just enough to make the half of her heart that wasn’t working get by for the time being. We spent a week in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit before we were transferred to a step down unit. There, I spent weeks learning how to care for my sick baby. Checking her oxygen. Her temperature. Learning to feed her through a tube since she wasn’t able to actually eat yet. Anthony spent the nights and evenings with us when he could. He took time off to be with us as much as his schedule allowed, but I knew how important his kids were to him, so I sent him back to work when I felt capable. He spent his days saving everyone else’s babies and spent his nights trying to save ours. When finally a month later they allowed us to go home, I should have felt ecstatic. Instead, I was scared as hell.
Here, the doctor and nurses were only steps away. At home, Hope would solely depend on me during the day while Anthony was at work. At least I would have him and his medical expertise at night, I told myself.
At home I thought maybe we would rest better and sometimes we did on those days when the moms would come by and help so we could actually take a nap in peace. A nap where I wasn’t worried something would happen to Hope while I was away from her. It was true, there was so no rest for the weary. I lay in bed at night exhausted but too scared to sleep. Instead, I’d get up and check on Hope. Was she still breathing? Was her temperature too high? We were exhausted and barely surviving and it seemed like there was no end in sight. It felt like our lives were just going to be a series of doctors’ appointments and tube feedings, and oxygen checks and recording it all in a book with times. Even diaper changes were on record. Our lives were in a binder. Every damn bit of them. But still, I’d do it, every day for the rest of my life if it meant more days with Hope.
But every day, it got easier to be this way—to live this life. It became routine, the new normal, and Anthony and I settled into a daily schedule. We lived more like roommates than lovers. Probably because we hadn’t really been lovers in ten years. And, God, I may have had a sick baby that I would gladly devote every moment of my time to, but I wanted to feel normal. Like a woman. I wanted to remember how my Doc loved me, lusted for me.
I’d look at the refrigerator in the kitchen and think of the day he’d pushed me up against it and made come against him. I wanted that. I wanted him.
I wanted it all. I wanted motherhood. And I wanted Doc, too. And not just the daddy version of him. Don’t get me wrong. I loved seeing him with Hope. He was perfect with her. Whenever I was panicked over something, he took over, knowing exactly what to do. And at night when he held her against his big bare chest, God, I’d ache for him in ways he didn’t even realize. Because my man was sexy. And with my small baby girl propped against his large chest I’d feel my ovaries ache. He was attentive and caring and loving, but for some reason he never tried to take our relationship any further than nights curled around each other in bed. Comforting, sweet, much needed nights, but I still wanted more. Maybe I was selfish, but why couldn’t I have it all? I’d wait for him to slide his hand up my thigh or maybe under my shirt, but it never happened.
Six weeks went by. I thought maybe he was waiting for the all clear from the doctor but after eight weeks of waiting for him to finally put the moves on me, I was done. I needed to do something about this shit. I was over it.
So that night when I knew Doc was coming home from work, I changed into my favorite pair of black workout booty shorts. I also made sure to put on a form-fitting tank. I was pretty sure I was wearing the equivalent of mom lingerie. I looked like I was headed to yoga. Hopefully I was headed to bed. I brushed my hair, which I admit some days I just didn’t really get around to. I even put on some lip gloss and checked myself over in the mirror.
I thought I looked pretty damn good for a chick who was eight weeks postpartum. My body was mostly back, minus the stretch marks and a few inches on the love handles. God, I hoped they got some love tonight.
Doc came in from work like he did every evening and headed straight for the dining room where we had a makeshift hospital room set up for Hope. Her hospital scale, hospital grade crib, took up the small space now, the dining room table long since in storage.
He walked right past me and my sexy shorts. I couldn’t believe it. I looked damn good.
He picked Hope up and grinned down at her. “Hey, Hope, it’s me. Your Doc, I’m home. How’s my girl this evening?”
She was just starting to give little smiles that I couldn’t quite decide whether it was gas or the actual real deal. Her mouth curved into one of those smiles and I realized she must be really smiling nowadays.
“Did you see this, little bit? She smiled!” he exclaimed over his shoulder.
I came up behind him and put my arm around him. “I did. She’s growing so fast.”
He changed her diaper and cooed at her and gave her a feeding, recording everything in the book.
He was completely enamored with Hope, so helplessly in love with her, I couldn’t even be mad that he’d failed to notice my sexy mom clothes. I heated him up a plate of leftover food in the microwave and told myself I’d try another time. Maybe a day when he was off work.
He sat on the couch with Hope and baby talked to her while she stared up at him like he hung the moon and I guess to her he probably did. They did this every night and every damn time I’d feel the familiar sting of tears in my eyes. She didn’t understand all he’d done for her. For us. How Doc might not have done the surgery that saved her life, but he’d made sure her momma was safe. Made it possible for her to have the best doctors at no expense. He was the reason she was here and as healthy as she could be.
One day, she’d realize and it probably wouldn’t make a lick of difference because I knew, she’d already think the world of him. He’d stepped into the role of Dad like he was born for it.
He never said the words, daddy or dad, and I didn’t either. I was too scared of the pressure it might put on him. After all, those were big words, meaningful ones. I wanted him to be absolutely sure he was in this for the long haul before saddling him with the responsibilities that came with the word father. That didn’t stop me from thinking them, though. It didn’t stop me from daydreaming. It didn’t stop my thoughts from wandering to the future where I saw Doc teaching Hope to ride her bike for the first time or them on the way to her first daddy daughter dance, her in a frilly pink dress, him in a pale pink bow tie to match. Oh, I was full of fantasies.
The evenings were all the same. He’d come home and gently lift her from her crib and say, “Hey, Hope, it’s me. Your Doc, I’m home.” I wondered if ten years from now he’d still come home and say those same words, only she’d be healthy and climb up in his lap and wrap her arms around his neck.
And Lord have mercy. If I thought my sweet man couldn’t get sweeter I was wrong, because there was nothing in the world more pure and good than Doc and Hope together. They were it for me, those two.
“Your food will get cold,” I called from the kitchen and his answer was the same as it was every night.
“It’s okay. I’ll just hold her a bit longer. I don’t mind if it’s cold.”
And I did what I did every night and put tin foil over it and stuck it back in the warm oven. I had to admit, if you’d asked me ten years ago about being a stay-at-home mom, I would’ve laughed in your face. I’d wanted the fast life then, but I was realizing the slow life was sometimes richer. I wouldn’t have traded a day of stardom for a minute of being able to stay home with Hope and care for her.
The doorbell rang and my eyes shot to his. “Your mom coming by?”
He smirked as he carried Hope to the door.
Lucy came in like she always did, like a damn hurricane, chatting, boisterous, and loud, before she took Hope from Anthony.
“Give me that sweet baby.” She cradled Hope to her chest and kissed the top of her head. I never felt so lucky as I did when I saw Hope with Doc and his mother. Our family had grown leaps and bounds over the last several weeks.
I leaned over the baby and kissed Lucy on the cheek. “To what do we owe this visit?”
Anthony interrupted. “I asked her to come by and keep the baby so we could go out for a bit.”
That was a great idea. I would’ve loved to go out with Doc and have an evening to ourselves, but hell no, I wasn’t leaving my sick baby, even for a couple hours.
Shaking my head, I said, “That’s not a good idea. Something could happen while we’re gone.” I was completely fine with us having a date night in. Leaving the baby and going out on the town was absolutely out of the question.
Pulling my body into the front of his and wrapping his arms around me, he whispered, “I thought we’d take a few hours up two floors in your old apartment.”
I raised my eyebrows. Maybe he had noticed my booty shorts. I wanted the sexy time, but I still wasn’t convinced leaving Hope was a good idea. “I don’t know, Doc. Anything could go wrong.”
He kissed my lips softy. “And we’d only be two minutes away and Mom would call immediately if anything did.” He kissed me again. “Come on, baby. You deserve a night off.”
I smiled up at him. “Well, I did brush my hair today.”
He ran a hand through my strands. “You always look beautiful.”
“Okay, okay. You wore me down with your flattery.” My eyes shot to Lucy. “But you call right away if anything is even a little off.”
“Of course,” she said, not looking at me at all but smiling down at Hope.
“Come on, gorgeous. Let’s get you upstairs,” Doc said, motioning me to the door, meanwhile all I could think was ‘come on, let’s get you naked.’
I called over my shoulder, “Seriously, call me if anything happens.”
“Yes, yes.” Lucy waved me away. “I get it, now go and have fun.”
We rode the elevator the two floors up while I rocked on the balls of my feet and eyed Doc’s red bow tie. I was going to rip it off with my teeth.
Anthony unlocked the door to the apartment and I’d never been more thankful his friend was going to be gone for a couple more months still. Maybe we could sneak away every now and then when the moms were around.
I walked into the room and smiled. My Doc. He was trying to romance me. Rose petals covered the floor in a path that led to a bottle of champagne chilling and more roses that led to the bedroom.
He didn’t know I didn’t need romancing. I wanted to jump him right now. Roses and champagne wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.
He poured the champagne while I hugged him, my chest to his back, my hands roaming the large expanse of his chest. I would’ve kissed his neck, but I couldn’t reach it. The man was a giant. God, he felt good.
He turned and planted a long kiss on the top of my head before handing me a glass of bubbly. I smiled up at him as I sipped. I’d just have a little. I wouldn’t overindulge. I always had to be ready for anything when it came to Hope, like surprise trips to the emergency room.
Grabbing my hand, he pulled me from the dining room and through the bedroom straight to the big bathtub I’d enjoyed when I first moved in. It was full of steaming water, bubbles, and more rose petals.
This man. He’d planned this for me. He must have come here straight from work.
“Kiss me, Doc,” I whispered.
His lips pressed softly to mine. A quick, sweet kiss when I wanted raw, primal, barbaric.
“Take a bath, baby. Relax for a while.” He took my champagne glass from me and set it on the edge of the tub and started to walk out of the room.
Where the hell was he going?
“Wait,” I probably yelled a little crazily because I was feeling insane or sexually deprived, whatever you wanted to call it. “You aren’t getting in with me?”
I mean, it would be a tight fit with Doc’s size, but I was more than willing to take one for the team and squeeze my ass in that tub with him.
He smiled. “Baby, tonight is all about you. I wanted to give you a baby free night, where you could take a few hours for yourself.”
But I didn’t want a hot bath and champagne! I wanted the D! It had never occurred to me until that moment. I wasn’t an insecure type of girl. But maybe he didn’t want me anymore. Maybe he didn’t find me attractive. He had delivered a baby for me and seen everything. And when I said everything I meant everything.
I looked at the bath water, the bubbles and petals floating on the top, and realized he wasn’t romancing me. He was just giving me a night off. I was an idiot. I wasn’t getting laid. I was getting a nap.
My face fell with the realization that maybe Doc hadn’t put the moves on me because he just wasn’t interested anymore.
“What’s wrong?” He came to stand in front of me while I wracked my brain trying to figure out exactly what about me he didn’t like anymore.
“Is it the weight?”
The small line between his eyebrows creased. “What?”
“I know I’ve gained a little weight and the stretch marks aren’t that hot—”
He cut me off, crowding me into the wall behind me. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I…I,” I stuttered, feeling like maybe I’d said something wrong because Doc was looking especially primal at the moment.
My back hit the wall and Doc’s front hit the front of mine. He looked down at me like he wanted to eat me alive. “You think I don’t want you?”
Reaching behind my neck, he wrapped his large hand around it firmly. “You don’t think I think about being inside of you, putting my mouth on you, tasting every inch of you every fucking moment of every day?”
Holy shit. I was so unprepared for this. And he was serious as a heart attack. I squeaked out a, “Maybe?”
He laughed sarcastically. “Fucking maybe, she says.”
He used my neck to guide me toward the bathroom door and into the bedroom. “Get on the fucking bed, Kelly, and I’ll show you just how much I don’t want you.”
Oh, he was pissed at me, I thought. He was scarily sexy in that moment. I didn’t know whether to get naked or run for my life. “But…”
“Get on the fucking bed, shortcake.” He gave me a filthy dirty smile that instantly made my panties soaking wet. “Doctor’s orders.”