Page 29 of When Alec Met Evie
I think of the merch bag Summer left for me in my stall and wonder if I should take whatever she bought back upstairs to return it. But I’m at the med suite now, so I ignore my waffling thoughts and push my way inside.
“Hey, Doc.”
Dr. Samuelson is leaning against an exam table, studying an iPad. He looks up and offers me a friendly smile. “I wish I could say I’m happy to see you.”
I run a hand across my face as I drop into an empty chair in the corner of the exam room. “Yeah. Same.”
“Talk to me about your pain, Alec,” the doctor says. “What are we dealing with?”
Fifteen minutes later, I’ve been scolded and humbled and gotten both a cortisone injection and an injection of hyaluronic acid—a combination we’ve never tried before.
“I can’t make any promises,” Dr. Samuelson says. “But this might buy us a little time. Just keep me in the loop, all right? And listen to your body. You try to play the hero on that knee, you’re liable to wind up in the OR again.”
I nod. “You think I’ll make it to the end of the season?”
He frowns. “You want me to be honest here?”
“Always.”
“Your inflammation is the worst I’ve seen it. Which makes me think you’ll be lucky if you do,” he says. “Alec, it’s time to start thinking about what happens next.”
CHAPTER 8
EVIE
I sink backinto the couch in Alec’s living room and shift Juno from nursing on one side to the other, quickly burping her in between. She yawns before she latches back on, and I notice the perfect bow of her upper lip, shaped just like Devon’s.
Stupid,stupidDevon.
Months without a message from my ex-husband.
Months.
Months of living in the same city, of ultrasound visits and prenatal classes and doctors’ appointments. Then, after Juno was born, four more months of living with my parents in White Plains, learning how to be a mom, exhausted and emotional and barely keeping myself together.
And through it all, Devon never showed. I was a short train ride away from where he lived in Manhattan, and he never visited. Never laid eyes on his daughter.
And now he’s texting me.
Now, when I’m living in a different state, trying to start over and move on with my life, he’s texted and said he wants to talk.
The message came in an hour ago, and I’ve basically done nothing since. I managed to order dinner delivery, and the TV is on, but the volume is muted, and I haven’t glanced at the screen in ages.
I just keep staring at my phone.
Reading Devon’s message over and over.
Devon
Can we talk?
Only three words, but they could mean anything. My gut says they probably have something to do with him losing his job. But what does that have to do with me? The thought of finding out for sure makes me feel ill.
I don’t want to know because I don’t want him in my life.
Juno lifts a hand up and brushes it along my chest, her fist curling around the hem of my shirt and making my heart squeeze. She’s still Devon’s daughter, and he technically has visitation rights, at least according to the state of New York. If he’s come to his senses and wants to meet Juno, will I stand in his way? Will I keep him from having a relationship with her?
There’s no question that he’ll never have a relationship with me. Not after what he put me through.
