Summer with the Single Dad, page 15
Aya trembled, then sighed. “Right.”
“So, we need to come up with a consequence because we do not hit. We do not fight. I am beyond proud of you for sticking up for the baby squirrel, and that you had enough forethought to think about not hitting Carnation in the face because she will be in pictures. But as clever and considerate as all that is, you still hit somebody. You still put your hands on someone else’s body. We need to come up with a consequence so you think longer and harder about your choices next time.”
His clever girl nodded. “Okay.”
“What do you think about bedtime half an hour early and two fewer books?”
“So … seven o’clock and two books instead of four?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Her head bobbed, jostling her now-frizzy curls. “Yeah, that … that sounds okay. Not too bad. I can do that.”
He squeezed her tight and kissed her head. “That’s my brave kid. And for the record, I am very, very proud of you for protecting the baby squirrel.”
“Do veterinarians have to go to college?”
“For a very long time.”
Her frown was hilarious. “Darn.”
Just then, the front door opened and in walked a sun-kissed beauty in a big beach hat. She wore a black bikini beneath a white, mesh-style beach cover-up, flip-flop sandals, and had a huge wicker beach bag, or purse, or whatever slung on her elbow. Her sunglasses were dark and huge and covered a large part of her face, and a rolled-up towel and water bottle stuck out of the bag-thing. She looked like the poster child for a day at the beach.
“Justine!” Aya cheered, leaping off Bennett’s lap and rushing Justine to wrap her arms around her torso. “I punched a kid today at school. But only because she punched me first.”
Justine had her hand on Aya’s head and was smiling, but her smile dropped when Aya bombarded her with the news of her battle royale. Her gaze shot to Bennett, and she removed her sunglasses. “Are you okay? Is she okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. No bruises or broken bones. I’m tough. See?” She swiveled her face side-to-side like she had for Bennett. “And I punched Carnation in the belly.”
“What happened?” Justine asked. She ditched her bag, hat, and sunglasses. Then dropped to a crouch in front of Aya, getting right down to her level. “Who would want to hit a wonderful little kid like you?”
“I know, right?” Aya said with a casual shrug.
Bennett smothered his laugh with his hand and watched as the woman he’d fucked against a tree that morning interacted so beautifully with his child.
“Carnation was throwing rocks at a baby squirrel, and I tried to get the rocks out of her hand, then she punched me. So I punched her.” Aya was already on the mend from her earlier tears and taking the explanation the second time around in stride. “My consequence is early to bed and fewer books at bedtime.” Her eyes lit up. “Can you read me my bedtime books?” Then a streak of panic flew across her flawless face. “Unless that’s a consequence too? Dad?”
“Justine is a guest. We can’t ask her to do—”
“I don’t mind,” Justine said. “I love reading.” But she glanced at Bennett. “Unless it’s part of her consequence?”
Aya’s puppy dog eyes were in full-on attack-mode. He was a sucker for those eyes.
“I suppose not,” he said slowly.
Aya cheered and Justine chuckled.
“We were just about to have a snack. Do you want to have a snack with us?” Aya offered. “Where were you? The beach? Which beach? Did you build a sandcastle? Did you put on sunscreen? What does it smell like? We like the orange blossom smelling one that sprays on. It’s not too greasy, but you have to be careful not to get it in your eyes. Did you get it in your eyes? Is that why you were wearing sunglasses and a ha—”
“That’s enough questions, Little Bug. Let Justine get in the house.”
Aya pouted and let go of Justine’s hand as Justine stood up.
“I did go to the beach. I went to Humpback Bay, and it was so warm and wonderful. I didn’t build a sandcastle. I also didn’t go swimming as the water was pretty cold and I’m a chicken.” That made Aya giggle. “I put sunscreen on, but mine doesn’t spray. It’s a stick. And I didn’t get it in my eyes. I was careful. You’ll have to show me your orange blossom one. That sounds delicious.”
“You can’t eat it, silly,” Aya said with a giggle.
Justine bopped her index finger on Aya’s nose. “I know, but things can still smell delicious.”
“Like barbecued steak. I like the smell, but I don’t like the taste.”
“Yes, just like that.”
“So what’d you do at the beach, then?”
“I read and I napped, and I ate my lunch.”
“That sounds really boring.”
Chuckling, Justine grabbed her bag-basket thing and hat. “I’m going to go change.”
“Come have a snack with us.”
“I’m actually pretty tired. I think I’m going to hang out in my room for a little bit.”
“But you napped. How can you still be tired?”
Bennett covered his mouth with his hand again. His child was relentless. She had a question and answer for everything.
Was Justine feigning exhaustion to avoid him or the kids?
He was watching her exchange with his child when she lifted her gaze and their eyes locked. Color flooded her cheeks, muting the adorable freckles that he’d dreamed of kissing last night.
“I don’t want to intrude on your routine family time. I’m going to check some emails and maybe read a bit more.”
“Justine is on vacation, Little Bug. We need to let her do what she wants to do. And if that is not answering a million questions from a seven-year-old, then she has every right.” He got up from the couch and approached them, taking Aya’s hand and pulling in that summery, citrus scent of Justine and the sunscreen.
Her shudder when his arm brushed her shoulder was small, but he noticed it. He noticed the way she sucked in a breath, the way her nostrils flared and she swallowed. He noticed everything.
“Come on, honey,” he pulled Aya into the kitchen with him while Justine took the freedom to hightail it up the stairs. The snick of his bedroom door closing was like a gong going off in the house and caused that pit of regret in his belly to widen and get deeper.
He needed to talk to Justine about this morning and apologize.
He needed to talk to Justine about this morning and see where her head was at and if she was okay.
But most of all, he needed to talk to Justine about this morning and see if she was interested in doing it again, because the only time anything in his world had made sense in the last five years was this morning. In the woods with her. Inside of her. Lost in her and the moment. And as impossible as it sounded, he wanted to go back to that moment more than anything.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
She avoided him for the rest of the day, then when he thought they could talk the next morning on their run, she was nowhere to be found. He knew she was still in the house. He heard her in the bedroom and bathroom, but he never saw her.
He didn’t see her on Wednesday either.
She was a master at avoidance, and even the kids were wondering if they’d done something to upset her.
So on Thursday morning, he set his alarm for four o’clock and waited. Sure enough, she came down the stairs, quiet as a church mouse in her running gear. She didn’t go into the kitchen, and he noticed that her protein powder and shaker bottle disappeared after their morning tryst on Monday. She probably took them to her room.
He came out of the kitchen just as she was putting on her shoes. “You’re avoiding me now?”
She jumped and squeaked in surprise. It was too dark in the foyer to see her blush, but he could tell by the way she chewed on the inside of her cheek that she was uncomfortable.
“I … I thought it would be easier this way,” she stammered.
“For whom?” He stalked toward her slowly. He wore his running gear, and Jagger knew of his plan and was reluctantly coming over.
“For everyone involved,” she breathed.
The door opened, and a grumpy, bed-headed bear with a beard and frown entered. He wore his flannel pajama pants, no shirt, and had a big sherpa blanket draped over his shoulders. He didn’t even grunt at them, he just collapsed on the couch and started snoring.
“Let’s go for a run and chat,” Bennett said, tilting his head to the door.
Justine exhaled deeply and nodded. “Fine.”
Neither of them said anything as they walked to the security gate and he flicked on his headlamp. By five in the morning, it was light enough he didn’t need a headlamp, but at this ungodly hour, it was still dark enough to sprain an ankle or get hit by a bus.
Tension flickered like static and he ached to take her hand, wrap his arm around her or touch her in some way. He craved the feel of her soft skin beneath his again. He also wanted to comfort her, to ease her strife and whatever warred inside of her, harsh enough to make her believe avoiding him was the only sensible recourse.
He punched in the code for the gate and held open the man-door for her.
When they reached the main road, they started to jog.
“I’m sorry if you feel uncomfortable now,” he said, inhaling the dewy morning deep into his lungs. It’d rained overnight and the constant drip, drip in the trees was soothing. “I never intended for that to happen. I never intended for that to happen either.” He pointed into the woods for some stupid reason, like the exact tree they’d had sex against was right there. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad that it did.”
Her lips flattened into a thin line.
“Justine, please …” Heat rushed into his chest and his fingers tingled. “Do … do you regret it?”
Her eyes snapped to his, but that caused her to veer right and they ran into each other.
Her exhale was laden with emotions he couldn’t comprehend, and they stopped.
Pain formed in the back of his throat as the guilt swamped him. “Look at me … please.”
Her brown gaze tipped to his, and she squinted so he removed his headlamp.
“I … I don’t regret it, but … I feel guilty.”
She felt guilty? About what?
Oh shit! He just assumed she was single because she was there by herself. But … oh fuck! Shoving his fingers into his hair, he spun away from her for a moment, then pivoted and stalked back. “Are you married? In a relationship?”
“No. I … I’m single.” Regret and pain flickered in her eyes, though it was tough to really see in the muted, foggy light of the early morning.
“Then why do you feel guilty? Help me understand. It’s torture not seeing you. Feeling like you’re avoiding me.”
Her eyes grew watery, and she swallowed. “A small, stupid part of me hopes that maybe I’m not as barren as all the doctors said, and one irresponsible moment—one amazing irresponsible moment—got me pregnant.” She huffed a humorless laugh. “How pathetic is that?”
He glanced away for a second to collect his thoughts and figure out how to soften the blow, but also not panic because a woman he just met wanted his baby. “I um … I had a vasectomy six months after Aya was born.”
Another humorless laugh burst from her chest. “Now I just feel like a fool. And you probably think I’m crazy.” She made to peel away, but he reached for her hand.
“You’re not a fool, and I don’t think you’re crazy.”
The glint in her gaze said she didn’t believe he believed either of those things, but she didn’t pull her hand away.
“You do know that a baby would have tied us together forever, right? I’m not some sperm donor. I’m a father. And I’d be a father to a child we created together.” He scratched his head. That sounded so weird to say out loud, let alone think.
Her breath escaped her thinly parted lips, but her chin wobbled. She was holding back big emotions, trying to be stoic. “My sister told me that she froze her eggs when she was in med school. That it was the sensible thing to do because she wanted a family, but she also wanted a career. She just wanted her best eggs to be her babies.” She rolled her eyes. “Everyone in my family is a doctor. Both parents and both my sisters. We’re practical people. And freezing my eggs seemed like a practical thing to do when I was in med school. Only they discovered that I have not only severely damaged fallopian tubes—for no apparent reason— also no viable eggs to harvest, and an insane amount of uterine fibroids. So even if we dealt with the fibroids—which we do—the chance of me conceiving is less than point-five percent.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head and sniffed, glancing away again. “I’ve come to terms with it. Took a while, but I have.” That humorless laugh was back. “Or maybe not. Seeing as I secretly hoped our tryst against the tree resulted in a medical miracle baby. But you’re snipped, so … I’m just an idiot.” She said the last bit mostly under her breath and hung her head.
He studied her, searching for words of comfort, but unable to come up with anything that wouldn’t sound corny.
“It pitched me into a pretty deep depression spiral at first. Made me wonder if this was the universe’s way of telling me I’m not meant to be a mother. That’d I’d be terrible at it.”
“Women who can’t conceive naturally and adopt, end up being fabulous mothers. Women who are step-mothers can be fabulous mothers. There are foster-mothers who are saints. That’s not what this means. At all. You can still be a mother if you want to. If you feel the need in your heart. And I’m sure you would be incredible at it.”
She still wouldn’t look at him.
“I threw myself into my studies instead. I was second in my class at Hopkins and did a cardio fellow at Mayo before I was poached by Seattle Memorial. I rose quickly through the ranks there, and people from all over the country came to me for second opinions and surgery. Because I’m not afraid to take a risk.”
It was like she was speaking to the trees now, not to him.
Gentle, warm drops of rain landed on his hands and nose, his ears and cheeks. The drips in the trees increased and the pungent, earthy smell of wet dirt hit his nostrils.
“I loved my job. I love to cut.” Finally, her gaze met his. “Do you know what it’s like to hold a human heart in your hands?”
He shook his head.
“It’s exhilarating. They don’t call surgeons arrogant for nothing. It’s a high unlike anything else.” The sparkle in her gaze dulled a little. “But it’s also a privilege. Mr. O’Malley—Clarence—trusted me. He trusted me to do everything in my power to save him.”
“And you did.”
She shook her head and glared at him. “No. I didn’t. I allowed my personal life into the OR and my mind was not entirely on my patient. I messed up and he died. He died.”
“Accidents happen.”
Her glower intensified. “Not to me.”
“Justine …”
“Not. To. Me. If a patient dies on my table, it is because the sutures won’t hold, it is because they were too far gone already. It is because of a complication. It is not because I screwed up. Until that day. When I did. When it cost a man his life. When it cost a wife her husband, and children their father. Because I couldn’t keep my feelings on the other side of the door long enough to repair a man’s extremely damaged heart. But it was a heart I could have fixed. I know it.” A tear slid down her cheek and she rolled her lips inward. “You say that Mr. O’Malley would forgive me and that I should forgive myself, but I can’t. When I try, the guilt won’t let me. My heart won’t let me. Anytime I feel joy, the guilt creeps up and stomps on that joy. It reminds me that my patient will never experience joy again. That his wife and children are grieving. How can I, in good conscience, laugh or smile or—” She tossed the woods some side-eye. “when my patient will never get to experience those things again? Because of me. What gives me the right?”
“People make mistakes. It’s what makes you human. You are human.”
“I’ve been avoiding you because when I’m with you, when I’m with your girls, I feel joy.”
He squeezed her hand. “I feel joy when I’m with you too.”
She pulled her hand free. “And I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
Now it was really raining and he couldn’t tell what were tears and what were raindrops on her face.
“What happened before you went into the OR? What was so terrible that you couldn’t compartmentalize? That you couldn’t leave it on the other side of the door?”
She shook her head and clamped down hard on her bottom lip with her teeth. “I can’t. It’s so stupid now. Looking back, I just feel shame that I let something like that take over my brain. That I let it get in the way of treating Mr. O’Malley properly. Of saving him.”
“Try me,” he said softly, tugging on her fingers a little.
But she just shook her head again and made to pull away. “This was all such a terrible idea. I shouldn’t be in your house.” The cords of her neck stood out as if she were fighting a lump in her throat and even though tears slid down her cheeks, he knew she was keeping her emotions in check as best she could. If she gave into them, she’d probably collapse against him and sob. Maybe she needed that.
Did she ever cry and let all the pain out after her patient died? After whatever happened before that?
Stepping into her space as the rain fell, beading on her lashes and nose, he tipped up her chin. “You’re not going anywhere. And even if you don’t believe you deserve joy, I believe that you do. I believe that you deserve happiness, kindness, joy … and pleasure.”
