“Can you try?” I asked.
She looked down at her pink leggings. “I’m afraid to say it because it might make you mad.”
“Go ahead,” I said. “I won’t be mad unless it’s a wish to harm someone else.”
“Mommy, why would I ever wish that?” Her big blue eyes grew even rounder. “That’s awful.”
“Good. I’m glad we agree. Now, out with it. What’s on your mind?”
“I want Grady to be with us all the time. Like Alex. And Vance.”
She wanted me to marry Grady like Gillian had married Alex and Lila had married Vance. That wasn’t such a complicated wish after all.
Before I could respond, the door opened and Dr. Mason came in, silver hair, white coat and tablet in hand. “Hi, Madison. How’s that arm feeling?”
“Good. It itches, though.”
“That’s normal—and actually good news. Means it’s healing.” He pulled up the X-rays on the screen. “Let’s take a look at these.”
He walked me through them—bones aligned properly, pins in place, everything healing as it should. Six weeks in the cast, then another check-up.
“She’s doing great,” he said. “Any questions?”
“No, I think we’re good,” I said.
“Perfect. See you in six weeks.”
We checked out at the front desk and scheduled the next appointment. Then Madison and I headed toward the exit. As wecame to the cafeteria, Madison lifted her chin, sniffing. “What’s that yummy smell? Is it pizza?”
It was nearing noon and it might take a bit to get home. “How about we just eat some lunch here? You can have a slice of pizza.” I’d get one piece and eat her crusts. She never ate the crusts.
“Yay.” She let go of me, skipping toward the pizza counter.
The cafeteria was bustling with doctors in scrubs, visitors, and patients in wheelchairs. I followed Madison and asked for a slice of cheese pizza, hoping the attendant would give us the biggest piece.
“Esme?”
I turned.
Mark approached, in his white doctor coat, holding a tray with a salad. “Esme, what are you doing here?”
“Hey, Mark,” I said. “We had an appointment. Do you work here at the hospital?”
Madison stared up at him, clearly curious.
“Sometimes.” He glanced down at Madison. “And is this the famous Madison? With a broken arm?”
“Yes, it’s me. I fell off the monkey bars. How do you know my name?”
“I’m a … an acquaintance of your mom’s,” Mark said.
Acquaintance? Okay, that was fair. We’d been on one date.
“She broke her arm in two places,” I said. “And had to have surgery.”
“Yeah, I had to go under the knife,” Madison said, making a slicing motion at her neck. “It was very serious.”
“You must have been a very brave girl,” Mark said.
