“Are you in trouble?” Elizabeth asks, when I come to examine her the next day.
“No. I’m pretty sure Gina won’t say anything. Plus, I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t on duty when I came to see you last night.”
“Oh. Good.”
“I brought you something,” I say, pulling a small bag out of my lab coat pocket.
“Kyle, you’ve done too much already.”
I hand her the bag. “Just open it, Elizabeth.”
She looks inside hesitantly, as if she thinks it might be an engagement ring or something. Then she pulls out the contents and holds it up to me in confusion.
“It’s a wristband,” I tell her. “People use it for working out. It’s soft, so it won’t hurt the baby.”
Her face breaks into a smile as she pulls it on her left wrist. She admires how it covers the tattoo.
“And it’s pink,” she says. “My favorite color.”
“I know.”
She looks up at me. “You do?”
“You tend to favor the pink pajamas, so I kind of figured.”
“Thank you. That was really thoughtful.”
The baby makes a noise in her bassinet and I walk over to see her. “How’s she doing today?”
“She’s great. She seems more aware today. I was staring at her before you came in. It’s incredible how she’s such a little person.”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a baby with so much hair,” I say, admiring her soft fine curls. “And with those long eyelashes, you’d better watch out for this one, she’s gonna break some hearts.”
Elizabeth laughs. “I know,” she says. “I’m already jealous of those lashes. I always wanted long eyelashes like my brother, but I was never lucky enough to have them.”
My eyes snap to hers. “You have a brother?”
“Uh . . .” She glances over at the baby and then she looks sad. “Did. I did have one.”
She closes her eyes and leans back onto her pillow.
I sit down on the bed. “Elizabeth—”
“I can’t talk about it,” she says, huffing a deep sigh out of her nose.
I take her hand, wanting to console her for a brother I never knew she had. Because I know nothing about her. Her family. Her past. But it occurs to me that it doesn’t really matter. It occurs to me that what happened in her past is just that, the past. The only thing I want from her is her future.
“Have you thought about what I asked you yesterday?” I ask.
Her eyes open and with the way she’s looking at me, I already know what the answer is. And damn it if it doesn’t make my heart ache.
“Elizabeth, before you say anything, just hear me out. Leave here with me tomorrow. Let me take you to my place. Just so you can see it. Check it out. See if it would work for you and the baby. You don’t have to make any commitments today. And I promise, if it’s not what you want, I’ll put you and the baby in a cab and send you back to your place.”
She looks over at the baby and studies her. I can see the struggle going on behind her eyes. She’s wondering if I’m doing this just for the baby. Out of pity. But then she’s probably wondering that even if she is a charity case, shouldn’t she do what’s best for her child?
I squeeze her hand. “I want this. I want you. I want her. And, Elizabeth, based on that kiss, I’m pretty sure you want me, too. But we can take it slow. I’ll give you all the space you need. I’ll be working most of the time anyway. My building is nice. It’s safe. Please, just come take a look.”
She looks down at our entwined hands and slowly nods. It’s not a happy nod. It’s not an excited nod. It’s a nod of acceptance. Defeat even.
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll come for a look. But no promises.”
I want to jump off the bed and pump my fist in the air. But I don’t. Because although this might be a fist-pumping moment for me, it looks to be anything but that for Elizabeth.
Instead, I lean down and place a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you,” I say. “It will all work out, Elizabeth. I promise.”
The door to the room swings open and Abby walks in with a folder of papers.
“Your discharge papers,” she says, handing them to Elizabeth. “And the mother/parent worksheet you need to complete for the birth certificate. If you can get them all filled out today, it will help things run smoothly for your discharge tomorrow afternoon.”
Elizabeth stares at the paperwork long after Abby leaves the room. She leafs through the pages looking carefully at each one. She holds up one of the discharge forms. “Is this your address?”
I look at it. “Yes. They got that from the admissions form. Remember?”
“Oh.” She rifles through a few more pages. “This is a lot of stuff.”
“It’s mostly after-care instructions for you and the baby. Abby or one of the other nurses will go over it all with you before you leave. Those are just reminders.”
She looks down at the application for a birth certificate. “Do I have to fill this out?”
“Yes. The baby needs a birth certificate. But if you still haven’t picked a name, that’s okay, leave it blank. Once you pick a name, just come back and tell the hospital and they can submit it for you without charge for up to one year.”
“There are so many questions,” she says, looking it over.
“You can use my address if you want. It’s fine. Even if you don’t end up staying with me.”
She nods.
“You really haven’t thought of a name yet?” I ask, lacing my fingers through hers.
“It’s not easy,” she says. “It needs to be perfect.”
Someone clears their throat behind us and we turn to see Gina standing in the doorway.
“Why don’t you let Dr. Stone pick the name? After all, he’s paying for all this,” she says, waving her hand around Elizabeth’s hospital room.
Oh, fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Elizabeth drops my hand like it burned her. “He’s what?”
“Oh, sorry,” Gina says, not looking it in the least. “I figured with you being discharged tomorrow, he’d have told you.”
“Gina, get out,” I say. “And close the door behind you.”
She shrugs and turns around to leave.
When I look at Elizabeth, there are tears running down her cheeks. And tension tightens the delicate features of her face. I reach out for her, but she pulls away.
“I’m sorry,” I say, not knowing if I should be mad at Gina or myself. “I should have told you. But I didn’t want you to think I saw you as a charity case, because that is not what this is about.”
“What is this about, Kyle?”
The door opens again and Baylor, Skylar and Piper walk in with flowers and food.
Elizabeth quickly wipes her face and pastes on a smile as she greets them.
I get up off the bed. “I’m glad you guys are here,” I tell them. “I’ve got to wrap up a few cases before my shift is over.”
I hug the three of them and then turn back to Elizabeth. “I’ll come back later? To say goodnight?”
She shakes her head softly. “No, that’s okay. You’ve had a long shift,” she says. “After dinner with these guys, I’m going to be pretty tired. I’ll just see you tomorrow, okay?”
I want to argue, but not in front of everyone. She’s pissed. And we didn’t get a chance to talk it out. Maybe it’s better to let her sleep on it. Everything will be okay tomorrow. When she comes to my place, everything will be alright. I’ll make sure of it.
Then I get an idea. I pull Baylor aside and tell her my plan.