Page 77 of Doctor Second Chance

Instead, I lie here, holding him, my own eyes wide open in the darkness. The weight of uncertainty presses down on us, but for now, all I can do is be here, offering what comfort I can in this quiet moment.

Tuesday, July 23

6:13 am

I lie still in bed, feigning sleep as Shep moves around the room, getting ready for work. My eyes are closed, but my mind is wide awake, churning with thoughts from the sleepless night.

The weight of everything feels heavy on my chest. I'd planned to talk to Shep about our relationship—the commitment, the long distance—but Ari's situation changed everything. It feels selfish to bring up my concerns when he's dealing with such heartbreak.

I breathe slowly, evenly, as if in deep slumber. But inside, I'm a mess of conflicting emotions. The scent of Shep's soap lingers in the air as he moves about, reminding me how much I care for him. Yet I feel stuck, unable to voice my needs.

Part of me wants to open my eyes, to reach out and pull him close. To tell him everything that's been swirling in my mind. But I stay still, letting him believe I'm asleep. It's easier this way, I tell myself. He needs to focus on his son right now.

I hear Shep's footsteps pause by the bed. His hand gently brushes my hair, and it takes all my willpower not to lean into his touch. Then he's gone, the bedroom door closing softly behind him.

Only then do I allow my eyes to open, staring at the ceiling. I'm at the mercy of Shep's needs right now, and I don't know how to navigate this new terrain. The anxiety of unspoken words sits like a stone in my stomach.

I turn my face into the pillow, inhaling Shep's scent. Despite the comfort it brings, restlessness courses through me.

What a difference a day makes. Yesterday morning, he was so jovial and attentive. He woke me with a gentle kiss to say goodbye. Today, he only touched my hair. I’m not sure why he didn’t kiss me, but I can’t try to figure that out. I need to take care of myself and keep putting one foot in front of the other until I see an opportunity to do otherwise.

12:35 pm

I recheck my phone, hoping for a message from Shep, but there's nothing new since his good morning text. With two hours between therapy sessions, I'm at loose ends. Yesterday, I filled the time reading on the rooftop terrace, and that seems like the best option again today.

I grab my book and head to the roof, stopping by the hospital cafeteria to pick up a sushi roll. The warm Birmingham sun greets me as I step outside, and I find a quiet corner to settle in.

As I open my book, my mind wanders to Shep. I wonder what surgeries he has scheduled today and if he’s holding up okay after last night’s emotional breakdown. Part of me wants to text him to check in, but I hesitate. He knows how to find me if he wants to talk, and I don't want to add to his stress.

I take a bite of my California roll, savoring the fresh flavors. It's a welcome change from hospital food, even if it's not entirely up to the standards I'm used to back home in Florida.

Turning my attention back to my book, I try to lose myself in the story. But every few pages, I find myself glancing at my phone—no new messages. I sigh, reminding myself that Shep's probably knee-deep in a complex procedure right now.

The rooftop is peaceful, with only a few other people scattered about. A gentle breeze ruffles the pages of my book, and I inhale deeply, enjoying the fresh air after so much time cooped up indoors.

I'm so engrossed in my book that I don't notice Shep until he's sliding onto the bench beside me. His presence startles me, but pleasantly so.

"Hey there," he says softly, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

"Shep! I didn't expect to see you," I say, my heart fluttering at his touch.

He gestures to my half-eaten sushi. "Want to share?" I ask him, sliding my tray closer to him.

I offer him a piece with chopsticks, but he shakes his head. "No thanks." My chopsticks hover in midair. Setting down my utensils, I turn to face him more fully, searching his eyes for sincerity.

"Hey, Elle," he starts, his tone hushed and sincere, "I came to say sorry for acting aloof. I realize I've been...distant since yesterday. You're so gracious, and I want you to know I’m still in here, and I still want this to work; I just have to get through this muck."

His apology is a life raft. I know all of the things he is saying, but that he had the self-awareness to come up with this and to find me to tell me really means so much to me. I catch myself holding my breath, uncertain how to respond. I decide to say nothing and let him finish.

I place my hand on his toned quad to let him know instead.

"When I'm in crisis mode, I tend to turn inward. It's unfair to you, especially after everything we’ve discussed.”

His vulnerability touches me. "Shep, you don't have to apologize. I can't even imagine what you're going through right now."

"Still, I appreciate you saying that." He takes my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my skin. "I was thinking, I'd love to take you on a proper date. How about dinner tonight? Somewhere nice, just the two of us?"

The invitation sends a thrill through me. "That sounds wonderful. But what about Opie?"

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