Page 48 of Baby for Dr. Damaged

“Shit,” says Lawrence, the word coming out on a shaky exhale. “I didn’t even— I didn’t know. You’ve been dealing with this all on your own.”

“I wasn’t on my own,” says Amanda, softly. “I had Jackson with me. He’s been here the whole time.”

I want to stay and make sure that things are cleared up, but I also feel a bit like this is a moment that father and daughter should share just with each other. And I don’t want to get hit again, either. I excuse myself quietly and head to the bathroom to nurse my face before Bonnie sees me like this.

My lower lip is split, and there’s a nasty bruise already formed along the edge of my jaw. I had been hoping that Lawrence would make things better, that the fact we’re friends would be a boon to the situation.

Clearly, my hopes werenotmet.

I’ll just have to wait and see if Amanda is able to change his mind, I suppose. With any luck, Lawrence will come around and bless our union. Then, I can ask Amanda to be my wife, and we’llreallybe able to celebrate.

Chapter twenty-two

Amanda

“So,Dad’sstillmadat you,” Harris says, breaking the silence that has fallen over us. It’s been a week since we got the call about the trial being approved—a week since the big blowout that brought our celebration to a swift end.

I’ve tried to talk with my dad about things since the fight, but he’s managed to avoid all of my calls and tactfully be ‘out of the house’ whenever I stop by. It’s starting to wear on my mom’s nerves, I can tell.

She’s happy for me, over both the child and the fact that I’ve got a good boyfriend, and she says that she knows Dad will get over it eventually.

I’ve come with Harris to his first treatment session, but we’re still in the waiting room of the hospital. The overhead lights glare down at us, fluorescent and harsh, and the chair that I’m sitting in is made from hard plastic, making it ultra uncomfortable.

My back is killing me. I’m trying not to focus on how that’s technically a pregnancy pain.

Harris says, “Like, he’s stillreallymad at you.”

“I know,” I say, with a heavy sigh. “Just don't worry about it, alright? He’s got a lot on his mind right now.”

“It’s my fault,” Harris admits, looking down at his feet. There’s a blanket draped over his lap to keep off the hospital’s constant chill.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with you, Harris,” I tell him, reaching out and patting him on the knee. “I promise.”

Harris insists, “Yes, it does. I’m the one that told Jackson to ask.”

I pause. “What?”

“Everyone was happy! I thought that it would, you know, help soften the blow,” admits Harris. “And I just didn’t want you putting it off because of me, like you have everything else.”

“I don’t put off—”

“Amanda, come on. I’m not ten anymore. All you ever do is put your own stuff aside because you have to help deal with me and my crap,” Harris says, sounding more his age than ever. It suddenly hits me that he’s right.

Harris isn’t ten anymore. He’s in his twenties, a young man. More than just my baby brother, the same way that I’m more than just my father’s little girl.

“Getting this cure created was important,” I tell him, picking my words carefully. “It’s all that I’ve ever wanted for you, Harris. To see you get better.”

Harris looks away, guilt heavy on his face. I decide that I’m not going to let what should be a joyous moment get ruined by this.

I’ve dropped the bomb once. I might as well drop it again, right?

Mom had wanted to tell Harris that I was expecting, but I asked her not to do it. I wanted to see the look on his face when he found out that he’s going to be an uncle. The week has just been so busy between work and getting the appointment set up—and trying to deal with Dad—that the timing hasn’t been right.

Not until now, at least.

“But I’ll admit,” I continue, taking a deep breath. “I had some extra incentive this time around.”

Harris turns to look at me. “What do you mean?”

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