Page 50 of Baby for Dr. Damaged

Harris gives me a thumbs up. He has a bandage wrapped around his inner elbow on the right arm, where the IV had been hooked up. The treatment is an infusion, which he’s going to need once a week, for an extended period of time. It’s paired with a large number of pills that he’s going to need to take.

We’re working on a way to change the pills to an injection, but that’s still tied up in legal limbo.

“Everything went just fine,’ says Reba, happily. “We’ve already told him to expect some serious aches and pains, but that it’s normal.”

I nod, “I have a chart at home about that.”

Not to mention that I’ll be able to tell if the pain is a side effect of the infusion, or something more serious. Medical school has seriously been paying off these days.

Relieved, I wait until Reba leaves and then step around to the back of the wheelchair, my grip strong around the handles, giving it a slight push. The wheels roll easily over the smooth, white tiles of the hospital.

“How are you feeling?” I ask him.

“Exhausted,” says Harris. He lets his head rest against the back of the chair. “Like, I am seriously beat.”

“You did good, Harris.”

“I mean, I just sat there and let them pump me up with meds,” Harris counters. He gives me a tired smile. “You’re the one that did all the hard work. Thanks for that, by the way.”

It’s said in an almost flippant manner, but that’s just because Harris is flippant about everything. So much of his life has been made into a big deal, he hates having any kind of drama attached to him now.

But I can tell from the look on his face that he means it.

“We’re going to get through this,” I tell him. “All of us.”

“Yeah,” Harris breathes the word out on an exhale and closes his eyes. When we make it to the elevator, we are the only ones inside. I’m glad for that.

At least in the silence, I have a chance to try and sort my thoughts and perhaps figure out if there’s anything I can do to smooth things over with Dad a little bit faster than the path that we’re currently on.

Chapter twenty-three

Jackson

Ittakesalmostasolid month for Lawrence to calm down, but he does eventually call me up.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll allow it. After all that Amanda’s done and given up, she deserves to be happy. And much as I don’t like it, youdomake her happy. But Jackson, if you do anything to hurt her, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

“I would never dream of it,” I tell him, honestly. “Thank you, Lawrence. Knowing that you approve… It means a lot.”

The conversation ended there. He’s giving his daughter away, but there are still hurt feelings between us. That’s alright. I suppose that there will be plenty of time to fix it.

What really matters now is the fact that I’m able to ask Amanda to marry me. She’s been through so much, she deserves to have this moment be the most incredible.

That’s why I make arrangements for us to eat at Le Bronc, an up-scale Italian place. I’m downstairs waiting for her, double-checking that I have the ring in my pocket.

“Jackson?” Amanda calls out, stepping into the room.

My eyes go wide, drinking her in. It’s not often that I get to see Amanda in something other than scrubs. Her wavy blonde hair is pulled into an elegant bun, and the bright red dress that she’s wearing hugs her figure just right. It has a slit up one side that stops just shy of being immodest.

“You look amazing,” I tell her, moving over to where she’s standing. My hands land on her hips and Amanda gives me a wry smile.

“I’m glad you think so, because I’m about to go take it all off.”

“What? Why?”

“I just got a call from Glenda,” says Amanda. “There’s some kind of a bug going around, I guess, and a bunch of the residents are out sick. She needs someone to call in, and I’ve been picked this time around.”

My heart sinks. I know from experience that there’s no getting out of this. So much for proposing to her tonight. “I suppose that I’ll call and cancel our reservation.”

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