Page 20 of Baby for Dr. Damaged

“Jackson, I know,” Amanda says. There’s nothing sharp in her voice. “Or at least, I know more than most people do. Your wife was a good woman. My dad always talks about her fondly. And I can’t imagine what it must have been like, to figure things out just a little too late.”

Like a bullet to the spine. Enough to maim, but not to kill. I swallow hard, but it seems to get stuck. My throat bobs and I have to blink rapidly to prevent tears from burning my eyes.

Amanda clutches my hand and pulls it up against her own chest. “And my brother is a good kid, too.”

“I know.” The words come out rough. I have to clear my throat and take a deep breath to try and settle my nerves some. “I know he is.”

Amanda insists, “So help me with him. I know that you weren’t fast enough before, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t going to be fast enough now.”

There’s such hope in her deep blue eyes, glinting, like she really believes it.

Maybe I’ve been a doctor too long because I’ve gotten to a point where, sometimes, I struggle to believe it.

“I can’t give you an answer,” I tell her. “Not right now.”

Her lower lip juts out a bit, but she nods and steps backward. “I didn’t expect one. It’s late, and you’re tired. I’m going to head out, so you can get some sleep.”

“I’ve got a spare room,” I blurt out without thinking.

Amanda pauses. “Yeah?”

Nodding, I take a step toward her. “You should stay there. It’s late.” A glance at the clock has me wincing. “Or rather, it’s early. You should stay the night. It’s not safe driving home when you’re this tired.”

Amanda laughs. “Is that what you’re going with? It’s not safe?”

“That’s what I’m going with.” Leaving the wine in the kitchen, I lead her down the hallway and toward the spare room. It’s modern, but like most things in the house that aren’t Bonnie’s, it’s seldom used.

The house cleaner keeps everything clean, so there’s nothing dusty laying about, but it’s clearly on the impersonal side of things. “I just thought you might like your own space.”

She nods. “It’s great. I just… Are you sure it’s alright? I mean, now that Bonnie’s home. I don’t want to make anything weird for her. I can leave. I’m fine to drive.” At my dry look, Amanda corrects, “Or I can call a cab and have them take me home.”

“No, it’s fine. Before she went back to sleep Bonnie told me that she’s excited to play something for you on the piano,” I say.

Amanda laughs. “She wants me to tell her if the piano is cooler than video games.”

I ask, “And is it?”

Amanda grins at me, sun bright and all teeth. “Well, yeah! It’s clearly the coolest thing that she could be doing. That, and her flowers.”

“Did she tell you about their language?”

“Between sneezes and yawns,” says Amanda. As though the word is enough to summon one, her own mouth parts in a yawn. There’s a flash of her pink tongue scraping against her top teeth.

“You should get some sleep,” I say. “Especially if you plan on hearing Bonnie play in the morning. Her songs can be on the lengthy side.”

I can't help but ponder...What is it that Amanda and I have?

I’m not sure.

I had wanted to bring her flowers but after getting that call about Bonnie being sick, I left in too much of a rush to even think about stopping to get them. I just wanted to make sure that everything was alright.

But I had wanted to bring them to her. That counts for something, right?

For more than just a quick fuck in the closet, or a roll in the sheets. With slow but purposeful steps, I cross the room and wrap one arm around Amanda’s waist, pulling her up against me. Then I lean forward, pressing my lips at the corner of her mouth, and higher, up against her cheek.

I don’t know that there’s a name for what we have just yet, for this gentle feeling that wells up in my chest, or for how she makes me want to try again. She makes me want to have hope.

But I know that I wouldn’t mind finding out what it is, and I’m certainly looking forward to having breakfast with both Amanda and Bonnie.

---