Page 28 of Dr. Attending

“I’ll be in the bathroom,” I announce, padding across the room.

Weston crouches on the ground with a slow, deliberate motion, like every muscle in his body is begging him to lie down instead of fussing with the travel crib. When he looks up at me, I can see his exhaustion bleeding through, though the ever present teasing glint still shines in his eyes.

“Thank god,” he says, his deadpan delivery making me pause mid-step. “I didn’t want to be the one to tell you that you stink.”

For a second I stare at him in disbelief, but then he gives me a sly wink as the corner of his mouth twitches in amusement.

I stick my tongue out at him because, for some reason, that feels like the only appropriate response.

Carter lets out a sleepy whine that stops me as I enter the bathroom and makes my frustration dissolve, just a little. I can’t help myself from hovering in the doorway and watching as Weston gently rocks the stroller back and forth because this side of him—the calm, patient dad—keeps catching me off guard.

“Do you . . .” I trail off, not sure what I’m even offering here.

It’s not like I would know how to soothe Carter. I barely knew how to hold him earlier today.

“Nah,” Weston answers, his tone soft and appreciative. “Go ahead. I’ve got it.”

I nod and close the door gently, ending up spending far too long in the scalding shower. The water pressure is amazing, and after a long day it feels incredible to simply turn my brain off—probably a little too good because I catch myself falling asleep while standing.

I step out of the shower before I hurt myself, letting the steam surround me as I dig through my toiletry bag. Suddenly, my nightly skincare routine feels daunting, so I simply brush my teeth and run a comb through my tangles before calling it a night. I wrap a thin towel under my arms and open the door, hoping that I gave Weston enough time to get Carter situated.

The cool air of the hotel room shocks me as I exit the bathroom, and I mentally berate myself for leaving my clothes on the bed because my nipples are now so hard that they could be classified as weapons. But I guess they’ll be useful if the man I’m forced to spend the night with decides to do something that pisses me off—he always does.

“Where’s Carter?” I ask as I cross the room, keeping my voice low.

The space is dimly lit by a single bedside lamp, and all I can see is Weston lounging on top of the duvet, propped up with a pillow.

“Closet.” His eyes stay glued to his phone when he replies, sounding far more nonchalant than I care for.

I freeze as my brain conjures an image of Carter crammed between a stack of extra pillows and one of those wooden luggage racks.

He can’t be serious, can he?

Suddenly the story that my mom used to tell about baby Parker sleeping in a dresser drawer when they went on vacation seems way less dramatic.

“Are you—”

“Relax,” he chuckles, peering up at me with faint amusement. “Read it on some mommy blog a while back. Apparently it helps to let them sleep in a dark place when you travel.”

I pull my lips between my teeth, trying to mask my unease. “But how do you know he’s okay in there?”

A thousand things could happen in the middle of the night. We’re in an unfamiliar place. What if he runs out of air? What if he gets hot?

Weston flips his phone and shows me a black and white video of his son, fast asleep in the travel crib. “The door is cracked, and I have a baby monitor, Caroline.”

A wave of relief washes over me as I continue toward the bed. “Oh . . . good.”

A soft smirk tugs at his lips while he stretches to set his phone on the nightstand. “Believe it or not, I’m not the worst father in the world.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s a tiny hint of hurt breaking through, almost like he cares what I think.

“I didn’t . . .” I stammer, fumbling for the right words. “I just never would have thought of that. You seem to know a lot.”

“Took me a while.”

I offer him a conciliatory smile before digging through my bag to search for my pajamas.

I wouldn’t ever tell him this, but he surprised me today. He was able to seamlessly anticipate his son’s needs during the drive, and it felt like any time there was an issue, he knew exactly what to do to solve it before it became a bigger problem. He was patient, and gentle, and caring—all sides that I’ve never seen from him before.

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