Page 45 of The Doctor's Surprise Family

“Look, Dad! It’s huge! It’s bigger than Buster!”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah, bud. It is.”

“You have to take pictures so Mom can see!”

I snapped a couple of shots, then a couple more, and then so many I couldn’t count. I knew I’d want to look back on this, every smile, every second. Oli’s surprised face when he fell on his butt.

I’d missed too many moments to let this one escape.

CHAPTER 16

CLAIRE

Iran out of the hospital at five past midnight, texting Blake with one hand, chirping my car with the other. I’d forgotten to tell him to send me updates, and he hadn’t sent any since two p.m. They’d been blowing bubbles, then… nothing. Crickets. Visions danced through my head of Oli high on sugar, up past his bedtime and wired to explode. It’d been a while since his last screaming tantrum. He was due a meltdown, but?—

“Open, dammit.” I jiggled my car door and chirped it again. Only, the chirp came from two cars down. I’d been trying to break into Dr. Muller’s sedan, the same make and model and color as mine. Only, hers had file boxes all over the seats. It had dice on the mirror and a DOG ON BOARD decal. I smacked myself on the forehead and hurried to my own car. Blake still hadn’t texted, and why would that be? I’d missed texts before because Oli was screaming. Or, what if he’d somehow destroyed Blake’s phone? He’d tried to give mine a bath one time. He’d dropped it down the stairs. Maybe he’d burned the house down with Blake’s phone inside.

I took a deep breath to calm myself, but it didn’t much help. Had Blake even babysat once in his life? What did he know about kids Oli’s age? I should’ve checked in, myself. I was a terrible mother.

I pulled into Blake’s driveway in ten minutes flat, dry-mouthed, heart pounding, palms sweaty on the wheel. The house was dark, quiet. Too quiet? I swallowed. I couldn’t hear screaming. That had to be good. But Blake hadn’t texted, sosomethingwas wrong.

I raced up the drive, fist poised to knock, but before I could, the door cracked open. Blake poked his head out.

“Quiet. He’s sleeping.”

“Sleeping?” I blinked. “But I thought… I thought?—”

“I have to be honest: I missed his bedtime. I said he could read me his favorite book, but it was longer than I thought it’d be, more words than pictures. I didn’t get him down till, oh, eight, eight-thirty.”

“So he’s sleeping? He’s fine?”

Blake grinned. “He’s great. We had fun, as you see.” He gestured behind him, at the wreck of his kitchen. “Let’s see, we blew bubbles — I sent you some pics. Then we played tag, then I gave him some horsey rides, then he had his nap. We had lasagna for dinner, then we baked a cake, then Oli had his bathtime, and I mentioned the book.”

“You let Oli bake?”

“I let him measure the ingredients. We made carrot cake, so it wasn’t too sweet. But wedidspill some flour, and some sugar. And raisins.”

I laughed, too shrill, weak with relief. Oli’d tricked Blake into staying up late, but as screwups went, I’d pictured much worse. I’d been guilty of worse, if I was honest.

“I texted,” I said. “Why didn’t you answer?”

Blake patted his pockets, suddenly stricken. He pulled out his phone and slapped his forehead. “I put it on silent so it wouldn’t wake Oli. But I should’ve known you’d try to text.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “But, pro tip on Oli: once he’s asleep, that’s it. He’s down. You could set off a bomb and he wouldn’t wake up, at least not until he’s good and ready.”

“Note taken,” said Blake. “And speaking of beauty sleep, I was thinking, why wake him? You could both stay the night. You could take my bedroom. Then, you could take Oli home in the morning.”

I shook my head no, but I couldn’t think why not. Oli was sleeping, and I was free all morning. I’d have plenty of time to drive him home before work. He’d love having breakfast with his mom and his dad. That was, if Blake even had breakfast stuff.

“He’ll need cereal,” I said. “Without too much sugar.”

“I have Wheat-Os,” said Blake.

“Then… okay. Okay. That would be great.” I set my bag down. “You need help cleaning up?”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not as bad as it looks. Why don’t you sit and I’ll get you some cake?”

I had to admit, cake sounded good. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, apart from a candy bar, a quick shot of energy chokeddown mid-shift. Now I was crashing, all shaky and tired. I plopped down at Blake’s table like a sack of cement.

---