A few days later, I’m checking on Elizabeth when she catches me by surprise. “Did you know Skylar and Baylor were going to offer me jobs?”
I put down her chart and look up in wonder. “That I didn’t know about,” I tell her. “Really?”
She nods. “They both came by last night to bring me dinner. Skylar offered me a job as a hostess at Mitchell’s.”
“It would be a nice place to work,” I say. “It’s a great restaurant.”
“I’ll bet it is, based on the incredible food she’s brought me. But I can’t be a hostess. Not with a baby.”
“What about Baylor’s offer?”
“She says she needs an assistant. Said I could even bring the baby to work.” She shrugs. “I think she was just making the offer to be nice.”
I shake my head. “No, she wasn’t. Gavin is always saying how busy she is. She could use someone to keep everything in order.”
“I don’t know.” She twists her bracelet around her wrist.
“Hey, you don’t have to give her an answer today, right? It’s not like she’s needing to replace someone. I’m sure she’ll let you think about it.”
“That’s what she told me. They both did. They said I didn’t need to make a decision now since I couldn’t work for a while anyway.”
I sigh and run my hand through my hair. Four weeks minimum. That’s how much time she’ll need to recover from her surgery. Six would be even better. “Elizabeth, what are you going to do about paying your bills until you can work again? You’ll need to take time off.”
She laughs half-heartedly. “Time off from what? I don’t even have a job anymore.”
“I can help—”
“Stop.” She looks at me with distant eyes. “You aren’t giving me money, Kyle. I don’t take handouts.”
I look to the corner of her room where baby clothes are piled into the stroller. “You don’t take handouts from me?” I ask. “Or from men in general?”
She looks out the window. “I’ll be fine. Everyone has been more than generous. And I still have something I can sell.”
I’m not sure if she realizes, but as she says that, her thumb and forefinger come up to rub the ring finger on her left hand. Shit. Was she engaged? Married?
I want so much to ask her these things, but she’s already getting worked up. And like Charlie said, maybe she’ll see things differently after the baby comes.
“Okay,” I say. “But Elizabeth, if you find you need anything, not just now, but ever, all you have to do is ask.”
She shifts uncomfortably on the bed and her hand comes up to her belly. I look at her stomach, and through the thin fabric of her pajama top, I can see the baby moving.
“The baby is really kicking today,” she says. She looks up to see me studying her belly. “Do you . . . do you want to feel it?”
“Can I?”
She takes my hand and places it underneath hers. Then I feel a hand, foot, knee, or elbow poke me and I find it hard to keep my emotions intact. There is a person in there.
I know this. As a doctor, I know this. And almost daily, especially working in OB, I see babies coming into the world. But that doesn’t stop me from feeling overwhelming emotion at the thought of there being a little version of Elizabeth in there.
My other hand finds a place on her stomach and I sit on the bed next to her as we both feel her child kick and squirm inside of her.
“Pretty great, huh?” she asks, looking into my eyes.
I’ve touched her before. When I’ve put the monitor on her. When the baby had the hiccups. When she held me after Rosita died. But this, this is the most intimate moment we have shared. I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her so badly it physically hurts me.
I glance at the open door to her room, weighing my options. But at this point, I’m not sure I even care if anyone sees. I want her to the very core of my soul. My job, ethics, the line I’m about to cross, they can all be damned as I lean in closer to her.
Then, suddenly, she looks up at me with wide eyes. Scared eyes. And I admonish myself for misreading the situation. Maybe she doesn’t want this. Maybe I was about to take advantage of her in the worst way.
“Kyle! I just felt a pop,” she says. “I think my water just broke.”
I pull my hands away as my heart starts racing. “Did you feel a gush?”
She squirms around. “Yeah, and it’s still coming. I feel like I’m wetting the bed.”
I get up off the bed. “Elizabeth, I need to look at the sheet under you to see if there’s any blood.”
She nods, scooting up a little so I can see the wetness. It’s clear. I’m thankful for that. I press the call button for the nurse just as the fetal monitor shows increased fetal heart tones.
Elizabeth looks terrified.
I grab her hand. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her. “You’re just a few days from thirty-seven weeks.”
“I’m not ready,” she says, a tear running down her cheek.
I reach out and wipe it with my thumb. “I know you’re scared. I promise I’ll be there with you.” I take her face in my hands. “You’re going to be an incredible mother.”
“That’s not it,” she says, her chin quivering as she swallows hard. “I’m not ready.”
Not ready for what, I wonder? To have the baby? To leave the hospital? To leave me? To face her past?
I hear footsteps out in the hallway, and I remove my hands from her just as Abby appears in her doorway. “Do you need me, Dr. Stone?”
“Elizabeth’s water broke. Clear fluid. Prep her for surgery and page Dr. Redman.”
“Yes, Dr. Stone.”
Elizabeth cringes as her hands grasp her belly. I look at the monitor that confirms she’s having a contraction.
“Elizabeth, we need to do this now. We don’t want the placenta tearing as your cervix opens. I have to go get ready for the surgery. It’ll all be okay. You can do this.”
She nods, more tears streaming down her face. I want to hold her, comfort her, kiss the tears away. But more than that, I need to do my job so she and the baby are safe. And it takes everything I have to walk away from her.