Maybe Now (Maybe #2)(27)

Justice leans forward and mimics my expression. “I’ll remember this conversation when I start dating.”

I laugh. Hard. He’s only eleven, and he’s already got more wit than most adults. “Fine. If I tell you about her, will you promise you’ll tell me the first time you kiss a girl?”

Justice nods. “Only if you don’t tell Mom.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

“Her name is Maggie,” I say. “We went on a date Tuesday, and I’m pretty sure she likes me, but she didn’t want to go out with me again because her life is hectic. But now she’s in the hospital, and I’m about to go see her but I have no idea how to act when I walk through that door.”

“What do you mean you don’t know how to act?” Justice asks. “You’re not supposed to act or pretend around other people. You always tell me to be myself.”

I love it when my parenting advice actually sinks in with him. Even if my own advice isn’t sinking in with me. “You’re right. I should just walk in there and be myself.”

“Your real self. Not your doctor self.”

I laugh. “What does that even mean?”

Justice cocks his head and makes a face at the phone that looks just like a face I probably make a lot of the time. “You’re a cool dad, but when you go into doctor mode, it’s so boring. Don’t talk about work or medical stuff if you like her.”

Doctor mode? I laugh. “Any other advice before I go in there?”

“Take her a Twix bar.”

“A Twix?”

Justice nods. “Yeah, if someone brought me a Twix, I’d want to be friends with them.”

I nod. “Okay. Good advice. I’ll see you tonight and let you know how it goes.”

Justice waves and then ends the FaceTime.

I slide my phone into my pocket and walk toward Maggie’s door. Just be yourself. I stand in front of the door and inhale a calming breath before knocking. I wait for her to say come in before I open the door. When I walk further into the room, she’s curled up on her side. She smiles when she sees me and lifts up onto her elbow.

That smile is everything I needed.

I walk over to her bed as she adjusts it, raising the head of it a little bit. I sit in the empty chair next to the bed. She rolls onto her side, tucking her arm under her head, resting on her pillow. I reach over and rest my hand on the side of her head, then lean in and give her a soft peck on the mouth. When I pull back, I have no idea what to say. I lay my chin on the bedrail and run my fingers through her hair while I stare at her.

I love how I feel when I’m near her. Full of adrenaline, like I’m in the middle of a nighttime skydive. But even though I’m full of adrenaline and I’m touching her hair and she smiled at me when I walked in the door, I can see in her eyes that my chute is about to fail and I’m about to free fall alone with nothing ahead of me but an ugly impact.

Her gaze flits away for a moment. She pulls her oxygen mask to her mouth and inhales a cycle of air. When she pulls it away, she forces another smile. “How old is your child?”

I narrow my eyes, wondering how she knows that about me. But the quietness in the room reveals the answer. Everything happening outside this door can be heard very clearly.

I pull my hand from her hair and lower it to her hand that’s resting on her pillow. I trace a soft circle around where the IV is taped to her skin. “He’s eleven.”

She smiles again. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine. I wasn’t trying to hide that I have a kid. I just didn’t know how to bring it up on a first date. I’m a little protective of him, so I feel like I should guard that part of my life until I’m positive it’s something I want to share.”

Maggie nods in understanding, flipping her hand over. She lets me trace the skin on top of her wrist for a moment. She watches my fingers as they trickle over her palm, down her wrist, until they reach the IV. Then she looks back up at me again. “What’s his name?”

“Justice.”

“That’s a great name.”

I smile. “He’s a great kid.”

I continue touching her hand, but it’s quiet for a while. I don’t want to delve even deeper into this conversation because I know it’s going to go where I don’t want it to go. But at the same time, if I don’t keep talking, she might take the floor and begin to tell me, once again, why she doesn’t want any part of this.

“His mother’s name is Chrissy,” I say, filling the void. “We started dating because we had a lot in common. We both wanted to go to med school. We had both been accepted to UT. But then I got her pregnant senior year. She gave birth to Justice a week before our high school graduation.”

I stop tracing her skin and slide my fingers through hers. I love that she lets me. I love the feel of her hand wrapped around mine.

“It’s impressive that the two of you had a newborn in high school and still somehow managed to become doctors.”

I appreciate that she recognizes how hard that was for us. “There was a stretch during her pregnancy where I looked into other careers. Easier ones. But the first time I laid eyes on him, I knew that I never wanted him to think he was a hindrance to our lives in any way, simply because we had him so young. We did everything we could to make sure we stuck to our goals. It was a challenge, two teenagers trying to make it through pre-med with an infant. But Chrissy’s mom was—is—a lifesaver. We couldn’t have done it without her.”