Page 51 of (Not Really) Faking It With My Best Friend's Brother

Susan had a magical way with the kids here. Her voice animatedly rose and fell as she read aloud, using funny voices for the characters. The children were completely enraptured, hanging on her every word and gasping at the exciting parts. Smiling to myself, I realized, not for the first time, how lucky I was to share this dream with an amazing woman like Susan.

After Susan finished reading to the children, I brought her a cup of coffee while she tidied up the reading nook.

“One survival juice, as requested,” I said, handing her the mug.

Susan chuckled. “We’re definitely going to need this today. But at least we can suffer together.”

We clinked our mugs and took long sips, sighing exaggeratedly. The warm brew was perfect on this chilly morning.

I sat beside Susan on one of the beanbag chairs as she pulled out her phone and scrolled through it.

“Oh, I almost forgot to show you - my blog post went viral!” Susan said excitedly. “Look at how many shares it has.”

She passed me her phone. The “Reading Opens Doors: Promoting Early Literacy” post had thousands of likes and comments singing Susan’s praises.

“Wow, look at you, famous blogger!” I said. “I’m so proud of you for getting this message out there and for pushing past your introverted nature to take a risk on setting up this blog.”

Susan blushed. “Thanks. I’m just happy the community is taking an interest in childhood literacy. It means so much to me.”

“You have a real gift,” I said, squeezing her hand. “This clinic is lucky to have you.”

Susan smiled softly. “We make a good team.”

I pulled her in for a quick kiss, breathing in the scent of her peach shampoo.

“That we do,” I murmured.

I was reviewing patient charts at the front desk when a familiar face walked through the door—Mrs. Miller, a patient’s mother whom I’d gotten to know well over the past year. She had her two-year-old toddler, Zachary, propped on her hip.

“Good morning, Dr. Reynolds!” Mrs. Miller said warmly as she approached the desk.

“Good morning!” I replied. “It’s great to see you both today.”

“I just wanted to pop in and say thank you again for everything you’ve done for our family,” she said. “Finding compassionate pediatric care has been such a blessing. Zachary loves coming here.”

Zachary gave me a big grin, waving his little hand. My heart swelled with pride and fulfillment, knowing the clinic made a real difference for families like the Millers.

“Thank you. That means the world to hear,” I said. “We aim to create a welcoming, nurturing environment for every child that comes through our doors.”

Mrs. Miller nodded. “It shows in everything you do here. Anyway, I won’t take up more of your time. Just wanted to express our gratitude.”

“I appreciate you taking the moment. Have a great rest of your day!” I smiled and waved bye to Zachary.

As Mrs. Miller headed out, I took a deep breath, reflecting on how far the clinic had come. All the late nights and early mornings now felt worth it, knowing we were achieving our vision.

I headed over to the reading nook, where Susan sat with the baby on her lap, turning the pages of a colorful board book.

“Mind if I take over baby duty for a bit?” I asked.

“Not at all,” Susan said, carefully transferring the baby into my arms.

I cradled him close, inhaling that sweet baby scent. I loved it when Susan had freshly bathed him, and he smelled like baby lotion. “Who’s my little guy?” I cooed, making exaggerated silly faces.

Michael giggled and grabbed my nose. Susan laughed along with him.

“You’re such a natural, Nate,” she said softly.

As I looked into my son’s eyes, my heart swelled. All the magic and promise of childhood never got old, and I felt grateful to be a part of nurturing that spark every day.

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