“Look I have to run, but it’s good to see you up and about.”
“Thanks. And thanks for taking care of Isla. She’s a special girl.”
“She certainly is.”
Doctor Williams went one way and I went the other, disappointment pumping through my veins and I cursed myself. I should be happy Isla was well enough to go home but I still would’ve loved to have seen for myself. But it wasn’t to be and I had to get on with things.
The weeks passed and as we closed in on Isla’s seventh birthday I hadn’t moved on. Her present, the one I’d ordered before everything had gone to hell, had shown up and was sitting in its box on my kitchen counter taunting me. I didn’t know what to do with it. Did I wrap it and send it, or did I just donate it to charity? It was all too hard. But a glass of wine and a night with my bestie would help and tonight, Hannah and I were heading out on the town. Her first night out since becoming a mom.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Charlotte and I can stay …”
“No, you can’t. I got this,” Mason told Hannah, shooting her a look telling her not to argue. Shame that wasn’t in her nature. If she had just shut up and gone with it I could already be knocking back my third Cosmo by now.
“I’m sure Charlotte wouldn’t mind …”
“Actually, I didn’t put a bra and pants on, on a Saturday night to hang at your place, Hannah,” I replied, a grateful looking Mason hiding his smile behind his daughter who was babbling and blowing bubbles and generally just being cute.
“Charlotte!” Great! Now I was in trouble. I was trying to do the right thing, help Mason out and let him have some quality time with his daughter, and it was looking like that too was going to bite me in the ass.
“Hannah, honey, go out with Charlotte. Bailey and I are going to hang here and watch the game. Go! Enjoy yourself. We’ll be fine until you get home.” Watching Mason manage his wife was a site to behold.
Hannah didn’t look convinced, but her argument died on her lips. After kissing them both goodbye, twice, Hannah promised we wouldn’t be long, and we climbed into the awaiting Uber.
Three drinks later and my week was looking so much better. It’d been rough. Pediatric oncology units weren’t supposed to be busy. They weren’t supposed to be overrun with patients and not have enough beds. That was just wrong. Not that many kids should have to fight cancer. And that was only the beginning of the week's troubles. But thanks to the magical mix of vodka and cranberry, I was leaving all those problems behind.
“Have you talked to him yet?” Hannah asked after I’d just slapped her fingers away from checking her phone every five minutes.
“He doesn’t want to hear from me,” I said, draining my glass and wondering if I should order another.
“You don’t know that,” Hannah offered, trying to be helpful.
“Yeah, I do. If he wanted to talk to me, I’m pretty sure he would’ve returned any one of my calls or messages. But you know what I realized?”
“What’s that?”
“That maybe it’s better off this way.”
“How do you figure that?” The disbelief in Hannah’s voice was comical but again, so was the way she was twirling her straw in her Diet Coke.
“I mean, I’d barely had time to catch my breath after what happened with Todd, Luke was basically a rebound. I’d planned to take some time out and figure out what I wanted to do, where I wanted to go when Luke crashed into my life. I never got the chance to figure me out. Maybe now's my chance?” I shrugged.
“And maybe that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard,” Hannah threw back at me unexpectedly.
“Excuse me!” I coughed, caught off guard.
“If that’s the lie you need to tell yourself so you can sleep at night, then have at it. But don’t sit here and try to convince me that Luke and Isla, don’t forget that little girl because I know you loved her as much as you did her father, that they were a rebound. You say you want to take your chance to figure out what you want, but have you let yourself consider that maybe you already found it.”
Hannah and I hadn’t known each other forever but time was irrelevant. She’d become my person. The one who I called when I needed someone to help me bury a body and not ask questions. She was the one who’d give it to me straight and hit me right between the eyes with the truth, even if it was the last thing I wanted to hear.
“And I fucked it all up.”
I didn't want to cry. I refused to cry. I was sitting at a high-top table in the middle of a crowded bar, surrounded by people on dates batting eyelashes at each other and making googly eyes over the rim of their overpriced drinks. Picking up my napkin I wiped my eyes before scouring the room for a waiter. I needed another.
“Yeah, you did. But the more important question is, what are you going to do about it?”
“There’s nothing I can do about it. He won’t talk to me.” I huffed exasperatedly.
“Get up.”
