“No. You’re a bitch.” His smile evened out, almost reached his eyes. “It’s your beauty. Women like you are just used to being the center of attention.”
She moved toward him. “I am a bitch. A sorry one.”
He looked at her. “Thanks.”
“It’ll be okay, Cal,” she said, hoping late really was better than never.
“You think so?”
She felt as if she were drowning in the dark sadness she saw in his eyes. It so unnerved her, she barely knew what to say. “Lisa loves you,” she said at last. “She’ll remember that and come back.”
“I thought that for a long time, El. Peanut kept saying the same thing. But now I’m not so sure it’s what I even want.”
Ellie’s first reaction was Peanut knew? but she wouldn’t fall down that trap again. This wasn’t about her bruised ego. She led Cal to the sofa and sat down beside him. “What do you want?”
“Not to be so lonely all the time. Don’t get me wrong. I adore my daughters and they’re my life, but late at night, in bed, I want to turn to someone, just hold her and be held. Lisa and I stopped making love years ago. I thought I’d be less lonely when she was gone, or at least that it wouldn’t make a difference, but it does.” He looked at her, and in those eyes she knew so well, she saw a sadness that was new. “How can a wife in a bed down the hall be more comforting that no wife at all?”
Ellie had gone to sleep next to that kind of loneliness for more winters than she wanted to count.
“Does it get easier?”
She sighed. This was where their conversation had begun. “Be thankful for your kids, Cal. At least you’ll always have someone who loves you.”
MAX FINISHED HIS ROUNDS AT SIX O’CLOCK. BY SIX-THIRTY HE’D COMPLETED all his chart notations and signed out.
He was inches from the front door when they paged him.
“Dr. Cerrasin to O.R. two stat.”
“Shit.”
He ran to the O.R.
There, he found his patient, Crystal Smithson, in a hospital gown, in bed, screaming at her husband, who stood in the corner like a kid in a time-out, looking terrified. Crystal’s stomach was huge. She pressed down on it, breathing in gasps until the contraction ended.
Trudi was beside her, holding her hand. At Max’s entrance, she smiled.
“Now, Crystal, I thought I told you I didn’t work Friday nights,” he said, putting on his surgical gloves.
Crystal smiled, but it was frail and tired. “Tell her that.” She rubbed her bulging abdomen.
“You might as well learn now,” Trudi said, “kids never listen to you.”
Another contraction hit and Crystal screamed.
“Is she going to be okay?” her husband said, taking a step toward them.
Max moved down to the end of the bed. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
“She’s fully dilated,” Trudi said, moving in beside him, putting lubricant on his gloved fingers.
Max’s examination didn’t take long. He’d delivered enough babies to know that this one was going to be quick. He could feel the baby’s head starting to crown.
“You ready to be a mom, Crystal?”
Another contraction; another scream. “Yes,” she panted.
“The baby’s crowning,” Max said to Trudi. “Okay, Crystal, you can start pushing.”