Page 29 of Doctor Mile High
“Thank you so much.” I sit down, drop my tote, and kick it under the seat since I can’t bend over. “Oh my god, it feels good to sit.”
“I bet it does.” The man next to the window pauses reading his book. “I can’t believe you have the energy to be here. When are you due?” His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose, perching on the tip.
“In about a month, give or take a week or two.”
“My goodness. If I were your husband, there’s no way I’d have you travel.” Handlebar mustache clicks his seat belt. “I’d take your place to go to this conference. You should be home, resting in bed.”
“Well, it’s just me. I don’t mind. I have to do what’s best for me and my baby, right?”
“Your man left you? In your condition? Why, I can’t believe that. You’re so pretty, and from what I can gather, a tough cookie. He’s an idiot. You and your little one will be just fine without him. If he can’t support you, then he has no reason to be in your life.” Mustache grunts, his cheeks blazing red with anger.
I don’t even know this man, and he’s upset for me. It’s sweet.
“It’s okay. Really. It isn’t like that at all. Honestly, I’ve been trying to locate the father to tell him about the baby, but not everything is as easy as it sounds. I found him, actually.” I don’t know why I’m allowing the truth to slip out so easily. Maybe it’s because having an unbiased ear for me to vent to is what I need and these two men seem kind enough to give me some advice. “Actually, I did find him and come to find out, he’s been looking for me too. All I have to do is message him.”
“Well—” The man to my left by the window gestures his hand in a circle for me to keep spilling my drama. “Why haven’t you? If he’s looking for you and you’re looking for him, it sounds perfect.”
With both hands, I rub my belly, love warming my soul when I feel the baby kick. “I’m scared. He’s looking for the girl he met and I’m not her, you know? I was on vacation. I wanted to be bold and daring. And he didn’t sign up for a baby. He’s a successful doctor and I’m just an assistant to some asshole who’s going to work me until I have this baby at my desk. We couldn’t be more different.”
The man who has a deep southern accent pats the top of my hand with his wrinkled, tanned, tattooed one.
I think he might be a biker, especially with the leather cut he’s wearing.
“You never know until you try. If he ends up being an asshole, you just come to me, little lady. I’ll take care of you and your little one. So will the rest of my men.”
He’s definitely a biker.
“Here’s my card.” He dips into his pocket and pulls out a matte-black card that says,Call for Guardians MCwith a phone number listed underneath. “We protect women and children, get them to safety, or even just help new parents who find themselves in a situation like you.”
“Oh, you’re so kind, but I don’t need that kind of help. I’m not alone. I have friends and family who have been amazing,” I inform him, not wanting him to think I’m on the run. “Save your resources for those who truly need it. I’d hate to take someone’s spot.”
“No spots, little lady. Just help. You keep that card. Just in case. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
I press the card against my chest, giving my new acquaintance a gentle smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
The man to the left of me nudges my arm. “I think you should message him right now. If he chooses not to be part of your life, what are you losing? You’ll be left with what you have right now,” he states.
I don’t know why I never thought of that. He’s right. The worst that can happen is Winston tells me he isn’t interested in raising a child and we go our separate ways. I’ll have the life I have now.
It’s time I start improving my life instead of accepting the unhappiness I force myself to push through.
“You’re right,” I state, clicking the seat belt under my belly.
The plane begins to move fast down the airway, the engine whirling so loud I can barely hear my own thoughts. My fingernails dig into the armrest as the plane lifts into the air. I close my eyes as the plane shakes the higher we climb.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“I thought you were going to message him?” my new nosey window-seat friend reminds me.
“Not until I’m allowed. Cell phone interference.” I whirl my fingers in the air in a downward motion. “And I don’t want to plummet thirty thousand feet to the ground.”
“That’s not going to happen,” he laughs.
“Airplane mode exists for a reason,” I scold him lightly. “With how my luck has been going recently, I’m going to play it safe and wait until the captain announces it’s okay to use electronic devices.”
“Fine, but I’m invested and need closure by the time this plane lands. Wake me when the time comes.” He closes the window panel, darkening our row. Tugging an eye mask from his green backpack that’s nestled on the floor, he tugs the strap of the mask over his bald head, then yanks the silk material over his eyes. He peels the corner back to reveal one eye. “I’m serious. I live for drama. Wake me.”
I snicker, my stomach moving up and down from the force. “I will. I promise.” A massive contraction tenses my stomach, and I hold my breath, doing my best not to make any noise so I don’t alert anyone.
