Page 58 of Dr. Attending

Given the number of people who were feeding him all afternoon, it’s unlikely that he’ll eat dinner, so we opt for a bottlebefore bed instead and head upstairs. A text comes through as I’m getting changed, but I wait until he’s settled in his crib to read it. I’m sure that it’s just from my parents, letting me know that they made it home, or something.

Carter takes a while to go down, probably due to the amount of sugar he consumed when he smashed his face into the chocolate Publix birthday cake.

I turn on the baby monitor as I leave the room and make my way downstairs, deciding to pour myself a splash of scotch on the way. I pull out my phone as I sink into the couch cushions, feeling my body relax with my first sip of Glendronach 21.

That’s nothing.

You should see what he got me last Christmas.

I feel myself smile as I read the message from Caroline because I’m sure Parker bought her something ridiculous and overbearing, like a lifetime subscription to a medical journal.

Lol. I don’t want to know.

I kick my feet up on the wooden coffee table in front of me, wondering what she’s up to as I wait for her to reply. I hope she’s grinning down at her phone like I am, thinking about me the way I’m thinking about her.

Sorry I couldn’t make it today.

Hope Carter didn’t miss me too much.

I’m sure she had her reasons for not coming, and while I want to reply with some witty line of banter, I don’t. I tell her the truth.

We both missed you.

Technically, I don’t know if Carter missed her because he can’t form complex sentences. But he definitely gravitates toward her when she’s around, the same way that I have from the moment I met her.

I know she said that I don’t have a chance with her, and if I were a smart man . . . I would listen to her. I would remind myself that she’s too good for me. That it would be selfish of me to explore something with her when she’s just getting to the best years of her life.

But the way I feel when I’m around Caroline is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my life—it’s electric, like her magnetic energy has me finally thinking about a future beyond tomorrow. A future . . . with her.

Text bubbles appear and disappear on the screen like she can’t decide what to say, which is surprising because she always seems to have something to say to me.

Eventually, a message comes through.

Studying is kicking my ass, and I didn’t want to bring the mood down.

I want to tell her that nothing she could do would bring my mood down. She could tell me that I have a terminal illness, and I would probably be glad that the news was coming from her instead of someone else.

But I decide to change the subject because she’s clearly not in a great headspace.

Are you done for the day?

It’s nearly eight now and if she spent the day studying, there’s no way she’s still retaining information. She should go to sleep and get up early to start fresh.

Her reply bounces back much faster this time.

I shouldn’t be. But I think I need a break.

My fingers fly over the keyboard, and I don’t pause to think before I send a message back.

Break on me.

I re-read the text, hoping she doesn’t take it the wrong way. If I were trying to flirt with her, I would have replied with a much more lewd sexual innuendo. But that’s not what I was getting at with my message.

I want her to know that I’m here if she needs me. That she doesn’t have to feel alone.That it’s okay to let go.

A response comes through moments later that makes my heart sink.

I don’t think that’s a good idea, Wes.

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