Page 38 of The Doctor's Surprise Family

“You can still use it as long as it’s sandy.” Blake winked. “But you’re right. I think that’s too smooth.”

Oli went back to the first one. “I like how this feels.”

“That’s the same one,” I said. “The one from before.”

“It’s okay,” said Blake. “We’re not in a rush.”

It hit me then what was making me nervous — I’d been waiting for Blake to lose patience with toddler time. It didn’t match with how he was, all Army-scheduled. But now he was laying out all the sandpaper, arranging the squares from smoothest to roughest.

“Try this one,” he said. “It’s more of a grit feel. Too rough for us, but it feels kind of cool.”

Oli touched it and grinned. “Like a brick wall.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Blake took the sandpaper and tested it on the chair leg. “You’d use this if you wanted to leave arough finish. Like, certain things won’t glue right if they’re too smooth.” This wasn’t toddler time, at least not for Blake. This was dad time. His shot with Oli.

“I think this one’s best.” Oli held up a square.

Blake took it and tested it. “Perfect. Great job.”

Oli glowed at the praise, and my heart leaped, then broke. Oli was lit up with pure adoration, enthralled with everything Blake said or did. Which was great here and now, with Blake home on leave. But soon he’d be gone again, and Oli would miss him, and he’d ask me why Blake couldn’t live here with us. Because he never would, would he? Live here with us?

I blinked back the sting of unwelcome tears. Blake was a visitor. A guest in our lives. A guest in Oli’s life, and a shadow over mine. A reminder of past mistakes, and no more than that.

I wouldn’t miss him. Not one little bit.

CHAPTER 14

BLAKE

Icouldn’t get over how smart Oli was.

I guessed I must’ve been smart at his age, but nowhere near that smart. The kid was amazing. He could read like a pro, even the big words, likeconcentrateon his juice box. He wanted to know why his juice had to concentrate, and all I could think washow’s he so smart?How was hesosmart and cool and amazing, and good with his hands, and sweet as pie?

“He must get it from you,” I said, when Oli ran off. “His brains, I mean.”

Claire shook her head, but I could see she was proud. “I see my dad in him sometimes, his artistic side.”

“He’s artistic as well?” My heart swelled with pride. “He should be in one of those programs, those schools, you know? A baby genius academy.”

Claire laughed at that. “All parents think that about their own kids.”

“But Oli’s, like, special. What three-year-old can readconcentrateall by himself?”

“I could, for one. Mom’s a great teacher.”

“Still, I don’t know. He’s just so… so…”

Oli came charging back with a Scrabble Junior set. “Mom! Can we play?”

Claire covered a yawn. “Sure. But one game, okay? Mommy’s brain’s fried.”

Oli set out the board and shook up the pieces. We all drew our starter tiles and Oli took his turn. Claire went next, still yawning, and dabbed at her eyes. She was yawning so hard it was making her cry, and I wondered when she’d last had a good sleep. First year was rough on any resident, not just the hours, but the pressure. The stakes. My first surgery, all I did was hold a retractor, and I still nearly puked from the adrenaline crash. I had a full sobbing meltdown in the on-call room, then I spent six hours stitching up pig feet. The only thought in my head was, I wasn’t ready. They’d let me out of med school unfinished. Untrained. Unprepared for the grind of the trauma OR. I nearly caved from the stress, and I was just me. Claire had Oli to think about, his life in her hands. Hiswholelife, as well, every peak, every valley. Not just a few hours in the OR.

“Mom went to sleep,” said Oli. “Mommy? Wake up.”

Claire did a cute half-snore, but didn’t wake up. Oli reached out to poke her, but I caught his hand.

“How about we let her sleep? We can play our game later.”

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