Page 74 of Doctor Neighbor

I want to lose myself in Buster's comfort, but my mind races with unanswered questions and fears about my baby. The fear of losing her fills me with dread.

My mind drifts to the recent cafe inspection and how terrified and paralyzed I felt during that ordeal. But now, faced with Maddie's illness and the uncertainty of her future, I realize how trivial that fear was. This... this is true despair.

I'm so grateful Buster is here with me. When I told him about the possibility of being Maddie's father, I half-expected him to bolt, to run away like Steele did. But he stayed. He's here, holding me, supporting me, even in light of the life-altering news he also just received.

It makes all the difference in the world.

Silent tears start to fall as I listen to Buster's steady breathing in my ear. His presence is both a comfort and a reminder of how precarious it all is.

I've got my life, my whole heart, lying in a hospital bed. In this rock bottom moment, I’ve laid bare my deepest secret, my greatest fear, to this beautiful man holding me.

All in a matter of hours.

Now, all I can do is wait. I have zero control over the outcome of either scenario, and the frustration and fear are overwhelming.

I will wait for test results, wait for answers, wait to see if we can find the necessary match—and wait to see if all of this is too much for Buster to continue to be my rock.

The pressure of it all presses down on me, threatening to crush me. But Buster's arms tighten around me, as if sensing my distress. It grounds me, giving me a tiny sense of security during a very insecure moment. For the first time, I have someone to lean on, someone to share this burden with.

At least for this moment.

I close my eyes, letting the rhythm of Buster's breathing soothe me. Despite the fear and uncertainty, a tiny flicker of hope is in my chest. Whatever happens next, at least I don't have to face tomorrow alone.

One day at a time. That's all I have right now.

Thursday, August 22

5:43 am

I awaken with a start, my heart racing as I remember where I am and why. The room is still dark, and the first hints of dawn are not yet visible through the curtains. I'm surprised I managed to fall asleep at all, but I'm grateful for the rest, however brief.

Buster's steady breathing beside me is comforting. I carefully extricate myself from his arms, not wanting to wake him. After everything that’s happened, he needs rest, too.

I reach for my phone on the nightstand, squinting at the bright screen. It's just before six in the morning. My fingers tremble slightly as I check for messages from Liesle: no missed calls, no texts. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. No news is good news.

Slipping out of bed, I make my way quietly to the kitchen. The cool tiles beneath my feet ground me, reminding me this is real, not some terrible nightmare I can wake up from.

I lean against the kitchen counter, trying to gather my thoughts. The early morning silence feels oppressive, weighing heavily on my shoulders.

I desperately want to rush back to the hospital to be by Maddie’s side, but I know I need to take care of myself, too, if I'm going to be any good to her.

So I open the fridge, the light spilling into the dark room. My stomach churns at the thought of food, but I haven’t eaten anything for days. I grab a yogurt, more out of habit than hunger.

As I close the fridge, my eyes land on a drawing Maddie made last week stuck to the door with a magnet. It's a colorful scribble she proudly declared was our family— me, her, and inexplicably, a purple giraffe she'd been obsessed with lately.

The sight of it nearly undoes me, and I have to grip the counter to steady myself.

I can't hold it in anymore. Everything I've been trying to keep together since we got to the hospital comes crashing down around me. My legs give out, and I slide to the floor, my back against the cold refrigerator door.

The first sob rips through me, raw and primal. I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to muffle the sound so I don't wake Buster, but it's useless. The floodgates have opened, and there's no stopping it now.

I curl into myself, hugging my knees to my chest as I rock back and forth on the cold tile floor. The tears come hot and fast, blurring my vision. I can barely catch my breath between heaving sobs.

"Please," I whisper into the darkness, my voice cracking. "Please, God, if you're out there. Universe, spirits, anyone who's listening. Save my baby. Save my Maddie."

I've never been particularly religious, but right now, I’m willing to believe in anything and pray to anyone who can help. I close my eyes tight, picturing Maddie’s sweet face and infectious laugh.

"She's just a little girl," I plead, my words barely audible through my tears. "She has so much life ahead of her. Please don't take her away from me. I'll do anything, give anything. Just please, please let her be okay."

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