Page 96 of The Fix-Up

A pair of dark-blue eyes behind dark-framed glasses peeked over the top of the magazine. “He asked me what my intentions were. I panicked.”

“You didn’t.”

His eyebrows rose and a twinkle settled in his eyes.

“You’re making that up, you jerk.”

“What’s a business partner to do?” Then he did the most unlikely Gil thing ever; he winked. Before I could respond, he hid behind the magazine again.

Chris burst through the doors in the waiting room. We all froze. “She wants to see her mom.”

“Coming.” Lucy disappeared behind the door.

The rest of us stared at my brother. Mr. Cool was looking anything but. His hair was standing straight on end from running his fingers through it so much. He was in khakis and a light-purple polo shirt, which was now untucked, parts of it looking like it had been pulled and twisted. Probably by Mae.

He slumped in the nearest chair next to me and pressed his palms into his eyes. “It never ends. I just want her to stop hurting. She’s refusing an epidural.”

I whistled. “That’s brave.” And really painful.

“You know once she gets something in her head, she’s not changing her mind. I begged. I pleaded. I tried to bribe her, butshe won’t do it.” He blew out his breath. “I don’t like seeing her like this.”

I patted him on the knee. “She’s going to be okay. You’ll see. Mae is tough.”

“Not as tough as everyone thinks,” he muttered.

Mom plopped down in the chair next to Chris and rubbed his back. “You were almost twelve pounds, and I popped you right out.”

“You did some screaming if I remember correctly,” Dad said across the room.

Mom smiled grimly. “I didn’t say it was easy, just that I did it. I got the epidural for the rest of my deliveries. Once you prove you can do something, no sense in having to prove it again.”

“Mom, you are not helping.” Chris leaned his head against the wall.

“Sweetie, it will be fine.”

Ten minutes later, Lucy pushed through the doors. “They want her to start pushing. Go meet your child, Chris.”

Chris jumped up from his seat, his eyes wild, and dashed through the doors.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hold that grandbaby,” Mom said. She moved over a seat, so she was right next to me and lowered her voice. “It’s been too long since I’ve had a tiny little baby to snuggle with.”

“Oliver’s a little big for that now, I guess.”

“I’m hoping it won’t be too long before Oliver gets a baby brother or sister.” She looked around me at Gil who was still reading. That article must be a whopper. Mom smiled.

“Mom. I already told you?—”

She patted my knee and leaned in, keeping her voice quiet. “Honey, I know what you said. But I also know you. That boy doesn’t stand a chance.”

“It’s… complicated.”

She tsked. “Love is always complicated because people are complicated. Love is ten percent hearts and rainbows and instant attraction. The other ninety percent is the hard work, the choosing every day to love someone. Heck, if it were easy, we’d fall in and out of love every time there was a stiff wind. No, ma’am, love is in the details…how we treat each other on our worst days or find a way to put the other person first every day. Love is a choice. The feelings are awful nice, but they change just like we do.”

“I’ve never thought of it that way,” I murmured. Wasn’t that how I’d always thought love was meant to be, though? Passion and fire. Had I expected love to be easy? Like stumbling upon the right man and knowing in an instant we were meant to be?

My eyes drifted to Gil. He’d tipped his head back against the wall. His eyes were closed and the soft lighting in the waiting room played with the ridges and edges of his face, creating shadows. My chest grew tight the longer I looked at him, thinking of him changing my oil or making that key rack I still forgot to use, picking up stamps for me, and fixing the bathtub faucet.

If love was in the details, I was in big, big trouble.

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