“Well, that’s fine, but she’s yet to tell me congratulations for starting my own practice.”
“I thought she sent flowers.”
“She did. And the note said, ‘It’s about time.’” I roll my eyes, continuing to rub Anjali’s back.
“Well, that’s not mean. That just means she’s always thought you could do it,” Emily reasons.
I shrug. She’s probably right, but it doesn’t matter. My mother and I haven’t been able to see eye-to-eye since I was eight. Regardless, it is nice to know she respects my career change since going off on my own. When my partner, Ebony Woods, and I opened our clinic, both of us were a little nervous no matter how well we hid it. Could we make rent? Would we have enough patients? The list of fears ticked on and on.
I also had to cut ties with my former patients, since we specialize in childhood trauma and work mostly with kids under twelve. When Ebony first presented the idea to me a year ago, I said no. It sounded risky and impossible, but she had everything lined up and ready—everything from the partnership contract to the clinic to the waiting room chairs. She just needed someone with money to pay the deposit.
That was me. It’s a 60-40 partnership. Starting a new business this year proved how much I needed a reprieve this holiday season. I stayed in Chicago as long as I could but arrived the day after Christmas and plan to stay until New Year’s Day.
Anjali grunts again and a rumble turns into a forceful squirt on my hand supporting her bum. The sweet-sour smell of newborn baby poop hits. “Oof, that was a big one!” I laugh.
“Want me to take her?”
“No, I got it. You enjoy your coffee.” I stand to take her upstairs to the changing table in the nursery.
“Oh, by the way, did I mention Austin’s friend is coming?” Emily asks.
“No, which one?” I ask, nonchalantly. Emily’s house has always been a revolving door—people coming and going, staying for long weekends, or skipping their family’s home for a holiday. It doesn’t surprise me in the least.
“His roommate, JP. You remember him, right?”
“He’s staying here?” My heart drops.
“Yeah, that’s cool, right?”
I swallow my shock and manage a nod—my mouth too dry to speak actual words. I turn quickly to retreat up the stairs, just as the doorbell rings and Austin shuffles out of the office to answer it. His greeting is returned in a voice I haven’t heard in over a year.
I freeze, one step still on the staircase—a soiled baby in my arms.
He steps over the threshold, his rolling suitcase going clunk-clunk over the threshold. “Where are the babies?” he exclaims, his voice smiling and his eyes dancing around the room that is tangled in tinsel and Christmas joy.
He doesn’t see me, but he sees Emily on the couch in her gray cashmere robe and fuzzy Ugg slippers. He goes straight to her. “Merry Christmas, Emily. You look amazing!”
“Stop being nice to me. I might actually start liking you,” she plays coy.
He still doesn’t notice me, frozen on the stairs, and I almost rush over and blurt that I stopped by at his apartment after I ran into his sister at the store and met his one-night stand. It’s this odd sensation buzzing in my legs and arms when I see him—like my entire body is drawn to him with a magnetic force. The magnet dies though when another voice greets Austin. It’s female, light and bubbly and entirely carefree, and she says, “Hey, mama!”
Emily screams and hops up and down. “I didn’t know you were coming too!”
“I wanted to surprise you!” the woman answers, rocking from side to side in my sister’s arms. “JP and I have been so excited to meet your new baby and I swore him to secrecy.”
She’s laughing. I swallow. It’s the same redheaded woman who saw me at his apartment.
“Surprise!” JP says and steps toward her. I turn before my stomach drops out, hurrying up the stairs and into Anjali’s nursery.
I’m breathing heavily. My fingers are shaking. And I have this strange swirl of jealousy burning in my gut. I take a moment to collect myself, laying Anjali on her changing table. “Anjali, would you just tell me I’m being ridiculous?” I coo at her. “That boy hasn’t thought about me a day since we last saw each other, right? It was all a fever dream.” I let out a laugh through my nose, then murmur, “It was only a few months, really. We were nevertogethertogether. No biggie, right? Tell your Auntie Julia to chill out.”
I continue my rambling to my zero-year-old niece as I unsnap the buttons her sleeper to change her diaper. I cautiously open the diaper and laugh a little when I realize the contents aren’t nearly as messy as I suspected. “Really, Anjali? All that noise for a skid mark?”
She stares up at me, cross-eyed, then her eyes refocus on me. “I’m going to tell your mom to lay off the broccoli.”
I finish the diaper change and ignore the murmurs of conversation downstairs until I hear more clearly, “Your sister is here?”
I bite my lip. “Yes,” I whisper, though the room remains empty.
