Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(22)

“Aubrey?”

I finally look into his eyes, a blush warming my cheeks when I see the confusion in them.

“Yes, hi, I’m sorry.” I stand aside to let him in. “Just nervous.” Is that what you want to call it?

“Me too,” he says, walking past me.

His scent swirls in the air. Smoky wood and vanilla, mixed with something sweet. It makes my legs feel weak and wobbly. I make good use of the open door by leaning against it and turning my head to gulp the fresh air flowing in.

He has a fiancée. Remember that.

“Hi, Claire. How are you?”

Isaac saying Claire’s name brings me back to reality. I close the door and hurry into the living room, where Isaac is folding himself into a cross-legged seat beside Claire.

“Hi, Dr. Cordova.” Claire smiles up at him, then resumes her gathering of all the Candy Land cards. She’s turning them all face up and then putting them in piles by color. It’s a process, especially one-handed, but she’s determined.

“You can call me Isaac, if you’d like.” He leans a cheek against a fisted hand and rests his elbow on his knee. The look on his face is unfathomable. I couldn’t describe it if I wanted to.

“Mommy, what is Dr. Rialta’s first name?” Claire doesn’t look at me, too intent on her sorting.

“I don’t remember. Why?” I settle myself on the floor, closer to Claire than to Isaac.

“Can I call Dr. Rialta by her first name too?”

I can’t help but laugh. Isaac grins.

“No, honey. Dr. Rialta is just your doctor.” I pause to look at Isaac. His eyes are on me, waiting for me to continue. Emotion ripples across his face, and to me it looks like hope. “Dr. Cordova, I mean, Isaac… He’s special, baby. More than just your surgeon.”

My stomach knots. Am I going to tell her now? Is this the right time? And what will it even mean to her? She’s a child. How will she make sense of this?

I take a deep breath. Go into this without expectation. That’s the best you can do.

Isaac’s gaze is still on me. I look into his eyes, trying to assess and understand what he wants me to do. He nods his head, only a little, but it’s enough.

“Claire, can you take a break from what you’re doing and look at me?”

She drops the cards and turns her wide, trusting face toward me. I gather her good hand in both of mine and wish desperately I could hold the other, too. But then if I could hold both her hands, none of this would be happening.

“Isaac is special because…” I freeze, swallow. The words are there, but they won’t come out. I look to Isaac, eyes pleading. He scoots closer, until his crossed leg presses against my own. The smell of him fills my nostrils once more and makes this whole experience even more surreal.

He covers our bound hands with one of his. “Claire, I’m your dad.”

Claire stares at him, her eyes narrowed as she mulls over what she has just heard. My breath sticks in my chest, waiting for her next words.

“Annabelle has a dad,” she says slowly. “So does Walker. And Alexa. And Kohen. They all have dads.” She falls quiet but keeps her eyes on Isaac. Then she looks at me. “I have a dad too?”

I will not cry. I will not cry. When the burning sensation behind my eyes passes, I say, “Yes. Isaac is your dad.”

She looks back to him and nods her head. “OK. I liked you when I met you anyway.”

Isaac and I laugh, and it cuts through the thick tension in the room.

“I brought my favorite patient a present.” Isaac grabs a bag lying next to the couch. How had I not noticed him carrying it? Oh, right. I was gaping at his chest, then gasping for air.

Claire holds out her arm and grins excitedly. Isaac pulls a box wrapped in pink paper from the plastic bag and sets the gift on the floor. It's covered in loose, haphazard tissue paper, as if wrapped by a child. He's made it easy for her to open.

In seconds she has pulled off the thin sheet of paper. “What is this?” She asks, turning the box over and looking at the back.

Isaac sends me a disbelieving glance before he looks back at Claire. “LEGOs. Do you have any LEGO sets?”

“No.” She positions the box between her legs and uses her thighs to hold it in place. With one hand, she tries to open the box. Isaac watches her with wonder on his face.

“Do you want some help opening that?” he asks.

Claire lets out a frustrated stream of air from her nose. “Yes.”

“It’s OK to need help,” he says. “You’re at a disadvantage with your broken arm.” He looks up at me as he takes the box and opens it. “But it’s good to see her figuring out how to manipulate objects. That’s why kids don’t need physical therapy the same way an adult would in this situation. Play will be her physical therapy.”

I nod and gather the ripped tissue paper. I need something to do with my hands. I’m on my way to the garbage can in the kitchen when I turn back around.

“Would you like a drink, Isaac?”

He looks up from the piles of LEGOs he and Claire are dumping onto the floor. “Only if I can watch you open it. I don’t accept open bottles from strangers.” He winks at me.

I blush and look down even as a smile tugs on my lips. “One unopened bottle of water, coming right up.”