I jump up. That announcement is for me.
Keeping my head down, my baseball hat lowered over my eyes, I head for the first class line. Get on the plane. Wave away the flight attendant. No, I don’t want anything to drink. There’s a dull roar in my ears that booze will only make worse, and I need my wits about me when I land in LA.
My wife is pregnant.
And she’s fucking sorry that it might upset me.
CHAPTER 50
FRANKIE
I love my chosen career, but first trimester fatigue and wearing a lead apron all night long on not enough sleep from the day before is a terrible combination.
And I missed my window to talk to Logan, although he sent me a string of text messages.
Logan
Fuck, okay
It’s going to be okay
Can you talk now?
Or in the morning
Anytime
Except by the time I read those, it’s one in the morning, which is four a.m. for him, and he’s almost definitely asleep. And since I know my text messages wake him up, I’m not going to respond then.
“Ms. Wilson?”
I jerk my head up and drop my phone. “Yes. Sorry.”
The radiologist I’ve been shadowing, Dr. Okafor, comes into the room I ducked into and picks up my phone. He hands it over. “Here you go.”
“I’m sorry.” Tears threaten. No, that’s not acceptable at all. I take a slow, careful breath in and hold it. “I’m fine.”
“Sure. But you also look like you could use some sleep.” He tips his head in the direction of the assessment room we’d just been in, supporting the team working on a trauma patient. “You were sharp in there. Do you think you’ve met your learning objectives for the shift?”
The bare minimum, yes. But I only get so many of these shifts in the month, and I want to make the most of them. “I can keep?—”
“I think it might be for the best if you went home and got some sleep. If you sleep late enough tomorrow, and maybe grab a longer nap, you’ll be better set up for a successful night shift tomorrow night.” His eyebrows lift as he looks at me.
It takes me a minute to process what he’s saying—because I am tired. More than I want to admit. “You’re going to let me shadow you tomorrow night, too?”
“Good news for you, the other clerkship student called in sick.” He nods at my lead apron. “My wife was pregnant in her first year of residency. It’s doable, but you have to be religious about protecting your sleep.”
“Oh, I—” I swallow my denial. It’s none of his business if I’m keeping the pregnancy or not, and until I decide not, then I might as well ask questions about how it would work if I did decide to have a baby. “How did you manage childcare? How much time did she take off?”
“She ended up taking almost four months off, which was lucky, based on when she went into labour and when her rotations were scheduled to start. She was taken off the schedule for rotations that she couldn’t do, there’s paperwork for that,and the rest sorts itself out. We juggled shifts, my mom moved in with us for a few months, and then we got into a good daycare for health care workers. I can give you the name of it if you need it.”
“Thank you. That’s a question for later.”
He laughs. “Not too much later. They have a year-long waiting list.”
My heart craters. “Ah. Well, thanks anyway.”
“Go on, get out of here.” He gestures for my protective gear. “Let me take that from you.”
