Page 64 of Baby Maker

Chapter Thirteen

Keegan

Normally, I enjoy medical conferences. They’re educational, plus it’s a time for the doctors in attendance to cut loose a bit and imbibe in wine, women, and song.

No joke. The last one involved an evening of drunken karaoke and a roll in the hay with an endocrinology PA from California.

A fun time was had by all.

But this year, my heart isn’t in it. Despite the lavish accommodations and the proximity to everything in the heart of Manhattan, my mind is continuously occupied. Thoughts of Calliope drift in and out of my consciousness, like a bad dream I can’t release.

I haven’t heard from her in a week and a half since she melted down during our Cape Cod getaway and demanded I take her home. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve dialed her number a hundred times, but I can’t find the strength to push the call button. She said she needed time. Claimed she couldn’t do it.

Do what? Be with me? Date me? Worst of all, love me?

Deep down, I always feared it would come to this. Even though it’s just shy of two years since her husband passed, it’s clear the pain is still raw.

I want to help Calli, but I don’t know how. To quote her, I can’t understand or fathom her pain. I somehow doubt the abandonment by my father all those years ago even registers in the same ballpark. Besides, I don’t grieve my father. I hate the man.

I’m not sure which emotion is worse.

I allowed myself to get caught up in emotion that weekend, as well. Only on the opposite side of the spectrum. When she told me she loved me, I let her in. I released those fears and claimed her as mine, only to have her throw the words back at me a day later.

That claim that men are supposed to be strong? Total bullshit. When someone cuts you, you bleed—simple and scientific fact. The wound Calli left me with still aches, but I’m trying to maintain faith.

She loves me. She told me that several times. We made love that night, and I would have given her anything she asked for. Marriage, kids. If she had named it at that moment, there would have been no question. I came this close to saying it aloud because I know what it means to her.

I wanted her to want those things with me.

Instead, she threw my love in my face and walked out of my life.

Now, that emotional barricade I erected all those years ago? It’s back with reinforcements. I know Calliope didn’t mean to hurt me, but she did, anyway.

I don’t know if it matters or if I’ll ever hear from her again.

After two drinks, I’m fed up with the conversation at the hotel bar and excuse myself, claiming a headache. My colleagues will understand. Or they won’t. Either way, it doesn’t matter to me.

I toss my jacket down onto the bed, and my phone slips out, flashing with several missed calls.

It’s likely the office. Alice, despite being brilliant in her role, has a hard time exerting authority. When I’m gone, I leave her in charge. But she still calls me about every situation, ensuring that we’re on the same page.

But it isn’t Alice. Or the office. It’s Calli, and she’s called several times.

Fearing the worst, I dial back her number, pacing the rug and trying to calm the racing of my heart.

“I figured if I barraged you with enough phone calls that you had to answer, eventually.”

Usually, I would find her wit endearing, but I’m too emotionally spent to laugh. “Is everything okay, Calliope?”

“Back to my full name. I really mucked it up, didn’t I?”

I squeeze my eyes against the banging in my brain. So much for claiming a headache. Now I have one for real. “I’m not entirely sure what you mean.”

“Yes, you are. You’re far too smart to not know exactly why I’m calling. I’m sorry for my behavior on Cape Cod. I thought I was better, and I am normally, but so many emotions backed up on me when I saw that slideshow. I felt like I was suffocating. I didn’t know how to let you in. I didn’t know if I wanted to. My grief is not a pretty place.”

Her words echo those that I’ve read over the last week. Yes, I’m reading books about loving a widow. Trying to maneuver their fields of grief with them while still respecting their boundaries.

It’s no simple task.

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