Page 113 of Booked for the Holidays
“Shit,” I curse, pulling out of her. My immediate thought is something happened with Mom. She tried to stand on her own and toppled over, hurting herself. I fumble for my phone, hidden under Bridget’s dress and purse. I see Mac’s name on the screen, showing five missed calls.
I hit her name to call her back, and waiting for her to answer is excruciating.
“Dad?”
“Mac? What’s going on?”
“I-I’m on the way to the hospital.”
“Thehospital?Are you hurt?”
I hear Bridget jump off the counter. She stands beside me, hand pressing between my shoulders. She kisses my cheek, letting me know she’s here if I need her.
“I was jumping on the bed with some of my friends. It was a dare to do a somersault off the mattress and I landed wrong. I think my arm might be broken. It hurts so bad. Julie’s mom is—we’re parking at the ER now.”
“Which hospital?”
“Park Cove.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I hang up and pull my joggers up my thighs, tying the drawstring tight.
“What’s going on?” Bridget asks.
“Mac fell off the bed. She thinks she broke her arm.”
“Oh, shit. Okay. Do you want me to go with you? How can I help?”
“No,” I say sharply. “No. What the fuck am I thinking? This is all my fault.”
My voice becomes panicked as I search for my wallet and keys, overturning a fruit bowl and shoving dish towels to the ground.
“It’s not your fault, Theo,” Bridget says gently, sidestepping out of my way. “You couldn’t have prevented this.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I snarl. “I put myself first for once in my goddamn life and look what happens. My kid ends up in the hospital.”
“Sweetheart.” It’s the first time Bridget’s ever used a term like that on me, and I feel myself melt at the affection. “It was an accident. Accidents happen.”
“You’re not a parent. You wouldn’t get it. You’ll never fucking get it.” I wince at the harsh words, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t mean…Fuck, that was uncalled for. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re right,” she says softly. There’s no anger or disappointment in the words. No desire to launch a plate at my head for the insensitive and horrible comment. It’s calm and patient. Understanding. “I’m not a parent. Mac’s not my kid, and I can’t imagine how scared you are right now. I know you’re trying to blame yourself and I know you’re about to sprint to the hospital to be by her side. It’s not your fault, Theo,” she repeats firmly.
“I have responsibilities in life that don’t include fucking someone on the counter.” The heels of my palms press into my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m not thinking straight. I don’t mean it. You’re not just someone. You’re–”
“You do have responsibilities,” Bridget agrees, interrupting me. “And you handle them all effortlessly.”
“I need to go,” I whisper. “I can’t—I should—”
“I know.” She kisses my cheek. “Will you let me know how she’s doing? And if you need anything?”
I nod, giving her hand a squeeze. “I’m not… I’m not trying to run away from you. I need to… There’s a balance here. I’m just not sure what it is, or how you factor into it.”
“Take your time, Theo Gardner. You’re worth the wait, and I’m not leaving. I’m staying, for a long, long time.”
I’m immobile as she exchanges my shirt for her dress. As she slides her purse over her shoulder and drops my keys and wallet into the palm of my hand. As she stands on her tiptoes to kiss my forehead, quietly slipping out of the front door.
I rush to my car, fingers nervously tapping the steering wheel with every mile I drive. I pass houses with fake snow covering their lawns. Christmas trees standing proud in windows, twinkling with lights. The closer I get to the hospital the more conflicted I feel.
