That’s all this is. An obsession. Not my first.
I’ve had my focus stolen by a woman before, if I’m honest. A chuckle escapes me. I’m deluding myself—my focus isn’t stolen by them. I give it away freely.
My fleeting mirth swirls down the drain by my feet.
When I met Aoifa, I was instantly obsessed. There was something in the curl of her black hair, so dark it glowed blue in the right light. The curve of her soft jaw when she smiled. And she smiled all the time. Her hot brown eyes—that was the only way to describe them. So full of life that they seemed hot. Fiery, even.
I was never worthy of her, but I tried to be. She loved with her whole heart, lived like every day could be the last. She was passion itself, embodied in a strong woman. She inspired our girls and me to be true to ourselves, no matter what.
It was that last part which led to my affair.
As I dry off, it’s impossible to avoid the topic. Guilt has a way of poking at you until you pay it attention, and right now, my head is a fogged mess.
I was too young to be married, truth be told. Too inexperienced. So, when I met the enigmatic, brilliant Dr. Cathryn Bird at a conference, I was captivated. I reasoned that, if Aoifa thought we should always be true to ourselves, then I owed it to myself to follow through on my attraction.
A pathetic excuse. Nothing more.
The truth was, our girls were two, I was an overworked med student who had pushed himself into school and marriage far, far too young, and my wife was too busy with our girls to pay attention to me. On the outside, I had everything.
On the inside, I felt like I was waking up in someone else’s life every day, and I didn’t know how to handle any of it. I was a self-pitying mess who didn’t appreciate what I had, so I glommed onto the thing I knew would make me feel better in the moment.
As I dress, it occurs to me that I’m lucky to have survived any of it.
I had an affair. Called my wife to check in and blurted out about the affair. She was distracted, ran through a stop sign, and was killed in an instant. Our daughters were left to me.
And then, my affair partner told me she was pregnant.
My phone buzzes violently. The hospital. I’m on call today, so I expected to be brought in. Happens every time. I give the affirmative and head for the hospital.
It’s on the drive there that my thoughts drift once more, this time to the result of my affair. I never blamed Connor for Aoifa’s death, but I understand why he might think so. We’ve never been close. That could easily give him the impression of blame. Another sin on my slate.
I will do my best to address his assumption and build our relationship as best I can. Historically, it doesn’t always work, but I can still try. Now that he’s more responsive to my texts, I might stand a chance. It’s a new development, and I’m not sure what the catalyst was, but I’m grateful for it.
Aoifa would have wanted me to try to bond with Connor. She never would have held my affair against him. If for no other reason, I’ll do it to honor her.
When I arrive at the hospital, it’s the usual chaos. I check in at the nurses’ station and find the one on my case. “What’s the situation?”
“Triplet pregnancy. Thirty-two weeks. Severe hypertension. They want cardio oversight—her pressures are climbing fast.”
Triplets alone push the cardiovascular system to its limits. Add gestational hypertension, and the heart starts to strain under a load it was never meant to carry. Preeclampsia is an unpredictable, dangerous beast.
Strange to say, this is where I’m meant to be. Not thinking about distractions. Not thinking about the past. Not thinking about a woman I met on a flight and haven’t been able to forget since.
Work is clean. Controlled. It’s not easier, but in some ways, it’s simpler.
“Dr. Callahan,” a resident says, falling into step beside me as I head for the patient’s room. “BP is one-sixty over one-ten and rising. Magnesium’s been started. OB is considering immediate delivery, but they want your input first.”
“Any cardiac history?”
“None documented.”
“Symptoms?”
“Headache, visual disturbances, shortness of breath.”
I nod once. “Fluid status?”
“They’re concerned.”
