Page 50 of Doctor Mile High
I really need to call my family. They’re going to be worried if I don’t check in soon. Especially if the emergency landing made the news.
The sound of Winston’s footsteps comes up the steps. When he reaches the top, plastic bags dangle from his arms while he has a big box in his hands.
“Woah, do you need any help?” I press my palms against the mattress and push myself up into a better position.
“You better not move. You stay right there while I get this together. They were kind enough to get us some clothes and diapers too.”
“Oh my god, we are so underprepared. We don’t have enough of anything. I have an entire diaper bag at home that’s stuffed to the brink for situations like this. I had everything planned out.” The more I think about it, the angrier I become at myself.
Winston drops everything in his hands onto the floor and rushes over to me when I begin to cry. I’m going to blame it on the hormones.
“Hey, none of that, okay?” He brushes the tears away with his thumbs. “I know it isn’t ideal, but everything will be okay. He’s fine. He’s sleeping. You’re recovering. We’ll be just fine without all that stuff waiting for us at home. I already have so many items being shipped to my house right now for him. I know it’s stressful and we were both thrown into this, but Dove, I wouldn’t want any other life. I don’t miss the life I had before you or my son. Now, I’m going to get this bassinet ready for you, change his diaper, and then help you shower, get some food, and then finally, you can sleep. Okay?”
I sniffle.
“Okay?” He repeats himself.
“Okay,” I whisper in response.
“Good girl.” He empties the bags first onto the bed, showing wipes, diaper rash cream, pacifiers, baby shampoo and body wash, and a tiny hairbrush.
Diaper packs sit on the floor next to the bed too.
“This will get us by until we get home. I have everything under control. Do you believe me?”
“As crazy as it sounds, I do.”
He grins, the lines around his eyes crinkling, another reminder of our age difference. I find him so handsome. Winston is distinguished with his silver hair and slight wrinkles. He must have started graying early for him to be completely silver by the age of forty-five.
He opens the box and I decide to take the moment to change baby Winston’s diaper. While I unbox the diaper rash cream and the wipes, the man of my dreams begins to put the bassinet together.
Which ends up being very simple. He unfolds it, straightens out the small mattress that came with it, and claps his hands. “All done.”
All while I’m fighting with the tube of rash cream. I can’t get the top off.
“Show-off,” I grumble.
He unscrews the lid to the cream and smirks. “I got that, Love Dove.”
I shove him, playfully of course, and giggle. I place my hand on my stomach when the soreness becomes too much from the laughter.
Winston’s smile fades instantly. “Lean back. I can change his diaper. You need to relax. Stop trying to do everything.”
“But I?—”
“No buts. I’m serious, Dove. As your doctor and as the man you’re going to marry, please let me take care of you. I need you. Please, don’t push yourself. What happened was serious, Dove. Let me take care of you. Just…let me.”
A curl separates from his styled hair and falls across his forehead, and he’s clearly bothered and stressed as he changes baby Winston’s diaper. I run my fingers through his hair, pushing it out of the way, and turn him to look at me.
“I promise,” I say to him. “I’m so used to doing everything I can, that I’m not used to not staying busy. I’ll take it easy.”
He kisses the inside of my palm. “Thank you,” he says, slipping a new onesie on baby Winston after he put on a fresh diaper, then wrapping him in a small blanket, swaddling him.
“Where did you learn to do that?” I ask, watching him pick Winston up to set him in the bassinet.
“I have brothers. They’re ten years younger than me and Mom needed help sometimes, so I got a lot of practice in. For a while there, I didn’t think it would come in handy.” He places the bassinet in the middle of the bed, surrounding it with more pillows to be safe. “Now that he’s settled, let’s get you showered, and I’ll tell you the boring tale of Landon Vainton.”
He swings me into his arms and carries me into the oversized bathroom. My eyes have to be as big as saucers as I look around. This bathroom is bigger than my bedroom in New York City.
