Page 55 of The Doctor's Surprise Family

“I want to be here, if that’s okay with you.”

“You’ll get sick.”

“I’ll survive.” He smiled down at Oli. “Thing is, if I did leave, I’d just keep on calling. The ringing might bug him, so I should stay, right?”

I could see Blake was worried, though he was trying not to show it. He was hovering over Oli like the scared dad he was, seeing his kid sick for the first time.

“He’ll likely just sleep,” I said. “But he’ll be glad to see you when he wakes up.”

Blake sat on the floor where he could see into the blanket fort. I sat beside him, and we watched TV. We watched Oli’s kid shows, but we mostly watched Oli, mindful of every sigh, every sniffle and twitch. After a while, Blake put his arm around me. I leaned my head on his shoulder, glad he had stayed. I’d been through a few of these vigils before, by Oli’s bed when he’d brought home some bug. It’d always been lonely and scary and awful, but now with Blake here, my fear felt less sharp.

“He’s less sweaty,” said Blake, after a while.

I couldn’t tell if he was right or not, but I nodded anyway. Oli did look peaceful, at least for now, and if he woke up feeling punky, we’d get him through.

Oli’s cold came and went in a couple of days. Blake stayed through all of it, bunking down in a guest room. I took them both out to celebrate when Oli could taste again, to Olivieri’s pasta buffet. Blake’s whole face lit up when he saw where I’d brought us.

“I don’t know if you remember, but we had our first date here.”

“It’s almost my name,” said Oli, before I could respond. “My whole name’s Olivier, and this is Olivieri’s. If you took that last ‘i’ off, this would be my restaurant.”

Blake laughed at that. “Well, you couldn’t pick better.”

“I’m getting spaghetti,” Oli announced. “And the salad with the… wrinkly things?”

“Sun-dried tomatoes.” I gave Blake a nudge. “Don’t you dare do that lecture, you know, with the spoons.”

Blake made his eyes go wide, all innocence. “Lecture? What lecture?”

“The one you gave me. You know, about the right way to eat pasta.”

Oli stopped in his tracks. “What? There’s a wrong way?”

“Yeah, throwing it on the walls.” I mussed up his hair. “Now, where do you want to sit?”

“There. By the window.” Oli pointed, and we followed his lead. We all got spaghetti, and then we got ice cream, and we took Oli to a nearby swing park. By the time we got back, he was too tired for his bath, too tired to stand up, even. Too tired for his story. Blake carried him upstairs and we put him to bed, then we sat outside on the porch swing.

“That was great,” said Blake. “A family night out.”

I couldn’t see his face too well in the dusty porch light, but he was smiling, gazing off past the trees. I wondered if he remembered any nights with his own family, any nice dinners before tragedy struck. I’d always noticed how he’d look at families out together, but it hit me more poignantly now I had my own.

“It’s been good having you here,” I said. “Normally, a night like this, I’d be dead on my feet. I mean with work and all, and Oli down sick. You really took the pressure off.”

“That’s my job, right?”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. BlakewasOli’s dad. He was growing more into it with each day that passed, finding his footing and his place in our lives. But he had another job far, far away. A job I doubted hecouldleave, even if he wanted. He’d made a deal with the Army, they’d pay for his school, and he’d pay them back with seven years’ service, not counting his residency or the time he’d spent studying. Seven years — Oli would be ten by then. Riding a bicycle. Walking to school.

“They change so fast at this age,” I said.

Blake blinked at me. “What?”

“Kids Oli’s age. They grow up so fast.” I thought about Blake watching Oli grow in flashes, a whole new kid every time he came home. And how often would that be? Once a year? Twice? Less, if they shipped him off to some war zone.

“You’re frowning,” said Blake.

I shook my head. “Just wistful, I guess.” I wanted to ask when we’d see him again. If he’d be home for Christmas or Oli’s birthday. If hecouldtransfer home, if that was something he wanted. The Army had bases here. Couldn’t he work on one? He’d thought of it once, working in rehab. Doctors with dual specialties weren’t that rare. He could be one of them… but would he want that? Would we be worth uprooting his life?

I bit back a bitter laugh. Four years ago, Blake had been scared to talk to me. Scared that conversation would end in goodbye. Now that shoe was on my foot. I was terrified.

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