Page 29 of Baby for Dr. Damaged

Bonnie nods and runs off to tell Sandra that she can go home for the day, and I drift into my own room to get changed into something a bit more comfortable. The shower and the drink will come after I’ve spent a few hours with Bonnie and gotten her into bed.

I don’t get to spend nearly enough time with her. She’s the light of my life, though, and when I’m home, I try to make her know that she’s the only thing that matters.

When I get back out, Sandra has set the table and gone for the day, and Bonnie’s practically champing at the bit to sit down and eat. We make it through the entire meal without getting any calls from the hospital—a rarity I’m not going to complain about—and take Bonnie upstairs to get ready for bed.

“When’s Amanda coming back over? I really wanna play my song for you guys!”

“I’m sure that it won’t be too much longer,” I tell Bonnie, helping her to bed and tucking the blankets up around her chin. She grabs her stuffed animal and pulls it up against her chest. “She’s just as busy as I am, you know. We’re just missing each other.”

“I am missing her,” says Bonnie, with a nod of the head.

I laugh a little and give her a kiss on the cheek. “I meant that when I’m busy, she’s free, but when I’m free, she’s busy.”

“Oh. Okay,” says Bonnie. “That makes sense, I guess. I hope you both get free soon though.”

“So do I,” I say, honestly. “But enough talk. It’s late, and you have school tomorrow.”

“Read me a story?” Bonnie pleads.

There’s no way that I can turn down those pretty blue eyes of hers, so I get a book from the shelf—Ruby Princess and the Crystal Castle—and sit down on the edge of the bed. While I read, I give each character their own voice, silly as I can manage.

The troll under the bridge grumbles and growls. I pitch my voice up high and lilting whenever I have to read for any of the princesses. When it’s time for the witch to show up, she gets a cackling laugh, and I swoop down to tickle Bonnie’s sides.

The book ends too soon, and Bonnie is already asleep. I set it back on the shelf and step from the room. A glass of wine is taken from the kitchen and brought up into the master bathroom with me. I place it on the sink while I shower, though close enough that I can just reach out and take a pull from it while the hot water washes over me.

I’m marginally less achy by the time I get out, but no less concerned over what’s going on with Amanda. I would try calling her but… I don’t want to be clingy. In the end, I give Lawrence a call instead.

“Jackson!” He sounds pleased to hear from me. We don’t talk as much as we used to. My work hours are crazy right now, and he spends a lot of his time helping Harris have some semblance of a life.

“I hope that I’m not interrupting dinner,” I tell him, trying to keep the conversation light. “Is Amanda still there? I’ll call back if she is.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” says Lawrence. He sounds confused by the question. “She isn’t here.”

“Oh, I thought that she had said— Well, it must have been a different day.” Something in my stomach drops.

Lawrence asks, “Everything alright? I don’t get social calls from you very often these days.” He sounds a little nervous.

“I'll be honest,” I say. It’s impossible to keep the concern from my voice now. “This isn’t exactly a social call. I was hoping to speak with you about Amanda.”

“What about her?”

“I’m sure that she’s mentioned the fact we work closely together,” I say, not certain whether Amanda has mentioned the research into Margur’s disease to her family. Sometimes, it’s best to only share that once progress has been made.

Lawrence hums. “She’s your little shadow, I know how this works. And I just want to say, if she’s not doing her job or something… You know, that’s work, and doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“It’s not that at all.” There’s an almost protective flair in me at that. I hate the thought that Lawrence's first thought was that Amanda might have been doing something wrong. “She’s actually the most impressive resident I’ve had around for my entire tenure at this hospital.”

“Is that so? Did you just call to give me a reason to gloat then?” Lawrence asks, sounding amused.

“I was calling to see if she has seemed off to you, the last few days. Nothing has happened at work, but she seems much more distant when we’re talking. I was worried that something might have happened with Harris,” I say.

Harris is a last-minute thought, awful as it is. I doubt that Amanda is going to tell either of her parents that we’re having relationship problems, but if something is affecting her outside of this relationship, I figure this is a good way to narrow things down.

Lawrence says, “Thankfully, no. Harris has been in good spirits all week, he hasn’t even had any flare-ups lately.” A rapping sound. “Knock on wood.”

I mimic the action, rapping my knuckles against the top of the bedside table. “Knock on wood, indeed.” And then, “She hasn’t said anything to you about being overly stressed?”

“I’m sure it's just work. You know, old fellows like us, we forget what it was like at that age. We’re homebodies at this point, but she’s still out, trying to have a social life,” says Lawrence, sagely. “I’m sure that she’s just been pulling too many late nights and doesn’t want to admit that’s catching up with her.”

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