Page 124 of Dark Knight

My heart sinks a little when he pulls away, but there are things to be done. We can’t spend our entire lives screwing around as much as I would like to sometimes. We have so much lost time to make up for. Three months hasn’t been nearly long enough to do that. I don’t know if an entire lifetime would be.

“Come on.” He stands, giving me the pleasure of checking out his chiseled body when it’s bathed in sunlight. “I’ll jump in the shower. Want to join me?”

I sit up, stretching, and only pretend to be stern when I narrow my eyes. “What, you didn’t get enough of me yet?”

“I doubt I ever will. But I just figured I’d save us some time.” Well, I can’t argue with that. I hurry out of bed and into the master bath, where he is already running the shower for us. He’s still quicker than me, but then he’s a guy, and there aren’t as many steps to his shower as there are to mine.

Once he’s finished washing up and rinsing off, I still have to finish conditioning my hair, or else risk my curls turning into a ball of frizz. As I do, I hum happily to myself while clouds of lilac-scented steam envelop me. Can this really be my life? It doesn’t seem right, somehow. After all that struggle, everything seems so simple now. Easy. I get to do exactly what I want with exactly the person I want to be with. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop… but it hasn’t yet. Hopefully, it never will.

At least, that’s what I’m thinking when I emerge from the steamy bathroom, wrapped in a bathrobe and scrunching my damp curls with a towel.

And that’s when I see Romero’s face. He lowers his phone from his ear and tucks it into his pocket. “I hope you don’t mind rescheduling your morning.”

My stomach drops, and it’s like all the air got sucked out of the room. “What is it?”

Already he’s sitting on the bed, pulling his shoes on. “We need to get to the hospital. Now.”

* * *

Maybe Romero doesn’t notice,but I do. Pulling up to the sprawling hospital, watching it get bigger and bigger the closer we get. He hasn’t said anything – he’s probably too busy driving. Or maybe he really doesn’t realize where we are.

But I do. I don’t remember coming here the night my mother died. I was unconscious. I didn’t know what was happening, but I could imagine it. I envision Dad and Romero racing to get me here.

I remember leaving, though. And I told myself the way people sometimes do in shitty situations that I would never come back here. It’s stupid – I mean, this is a hospital. You can’t guarantee you’ll never have to go to a hospital for the rest of your life, either for yourself or for somebody else. I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

That may as well have been another lifetime. The building has no power over me now, and neither do the memories.

We come to a stop in the parking lot outside the section of the hospital reserved for maternity. “Did Dad say anything about how she was doing?”

“No — just that it happened all of a sudden and they were getting checked in or whatever.”

“How did he sound?”

“Like a man who’s spent years controlling every part of his life and feels completely helpless and is ready to kick everybody’s ass, but he can’t because they’re helping his wife.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. But he didn’t say things were bad?“

“No. He was just freaked out because it seemed like she was in a lot of pain.” I’m biting my lip so hard it hurts when I jump out of the car and rush for the doors with Romero on my heels.

It seems like it takes the elevator forever to take us to the correct floor after getting the information from the front desk. My stomach is in knots, and my heart’s racing. Please, God, please let this be okay. Let Bianca be healthy. Let the baby be healthy. Dad has been so happy. It would be too cruel to take all of that away now. No matter what he’s done or how many sins he’s committed, he doesn’t deserve that.

Romero takes my hand as the doors slide open and we emerge, looking up and down the hall. There’s a desk in the center of the floor with a counter running all around it and a handful of nurses seated at computers. “Torrio,” I call out as we jog over. “Can you tell me where Mrs. Torrio is? Which room? Is she in delivery?”

“Tatum.”

The sound of my father‘s voice makes me drop Romero’s hand and run for him. He’s wearing a paper gown – and a huge smile that’s like a pin in the balloon of my dread. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine. They’re doing great.”

“What?” Romero asks. “They? Already?”

“They barely had her in a room by the time he started crowning. He was in a hurry to get here.” Dad throws his arms around me, laughing. “I guess impatience runs in our genes.”

I can hardly believe it. “He’s here? He’s really here?”

“Little Callum.” It’s obvious just saying the name makes Dad proud. “He’s here and as perfect as you were the day you were born.”

I can breathe now.

“Come on. I want to introduce you.” Dad drapes an alarm around my shoulders, and the three of us walk to the room at the end of the hall. In the bed sets Bianca – my best friend, my stepmother – holding a tiny little bundle wearing a blue cap on his little head.

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