Page 52 of Second Chance Fate

Hearing Bernadette point out the genetic traits that they shared caused Taylor to choke as the pills slid down herthroat. Bernadette quickly assisted her by patting her back and instructing her to sit up straighter. Thankfully, it was just the liquid that was blocking her air passages and not the actual pills.

After a few seconds of choking, Taylor was able to catch her breath. And in more good news, before Bernadette could follow up with any more observations, she got paged.

As Taylor sat in bed recovering, she picked up her phone and checked to see if she’d missed any calls or texts from Owen. She messaged him every morning before school to check in, but she rarely got a reply back. She wondered as she stared down at the wallpaper of Owen and Casper what the collateral damage would be once she revealed that Caleb was Owen’s biological father. Thankfully, he’d always known the truth that her ex was not his dad. Even though Martin had tried to force her to lie, it was the one thing she’d been adamant about.

Owen knew the truth about how he was conceived; he just didn’t know the who of it all. But he would very soon.

“Knock knock.”

Taylor looked up and saw a man she didn’t recognize in blue scrubs whose broad hands were balanced around a hospital tray. He wore a short beard that had more salt than pepper in it and a mischievous smile. He had the air of someone who’d worked enough hospital shifts to have seen it all. There was a faint, pleasant aroma of coffee clinging to him, and he walked in as if he owned the place.

“Is MTV coming to shoot your Super Sweet Sixteen?” he asked, surveying the room.

The walls were crowded with Mylar and latex balloon bouquets. Two floral arrangements bookended the windowsill, and another sat on the edge of the nightstand. A small army of teddy bears and plush animals was staged around the room on every surface that could hold one. Some of the balloons hadalready started to sag, like even the decorations were tired of being there and wanted to leave.

He set the tray down on the rolling overbed table and adjusted it so that the napkin and plastic utensils lined up precisely. She read the name on his tag, Mario.

Growing up, Taylor had to trust her instincts when it came to meeting strangers. Her life depended on it. When you get moved around as much as she did, with no real protection in a system that was broken, you have to come up with your own system. She put people in three categories: safe, neutral, and dangerous.

Mario wasn’t just safe; he was someone she instantly trusted. Just like she’d instantly trusted Caleb. Not ‘just like.’ She wasn’t attracted to Mario, and even if she were, she was almost certain she wasn’t his type.

“Either you’re a celebrity, or someone wholovesyou robbed the gift shop,” Mario added, giving Taylor a conspiratorial wink. “My money’s onyourHot Pastor. I always knew he had a little bad boy in him.”

“He’s not…we’re not…” Taylor stumbled over her words. She knew Mario was joking. Obviously, he was not serious about Caleb robbing the gift shop.Butshe didn’t want anyone to start throwing around words like “love,” or possessive adjectives like“your”when referring to Hot Pastor. “…he doesn’t…”

Mario lifted his hand and tsked three times. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Save it. That man sat by your bedside for hours when you were in the ICU; he was sick with worry. I’ve seen the look on his face when he leaves your room. I’ve heard the way he speaks to doctors about you. Little birdies have chirped about how amazing he is with your son. You, my beauty, can float down DeNile all you want, but that man loves you.”

Taylor knew she could explain all of Caleb’s behavior. He was Owen’s dad. That was why he was so worried about Taylor. It had nothing to do withher.

“Alright, bon appétit.” Mario lifted the plastic cloche.

Mario must have seen the look on Taylor’s face because he switched into tough love mode.

“It’s not about how it tastes. You, my beauty, need to get your strength back. These nurses are vultures. They smell blood, and they are circling Hot Pastor like sharks.”

“In this analogy, am I the blood?” Taylor asked, by way of clarification.

“Yes,” he nodded unapologetically. “And in the wise words of Whoopi in Ghost, Taylor, you’re in danger, girl. I have seen more YouTube tutorialed smokey eyes and contoured cheeks these past few days than I have in a decade of working here. Don’t get me started on tailored scrubs.”

Taylor couldn’t help but laugh, which was a surprise, because for days she’d felt like her body was too exhausted to waste energy on anything except the important stuff, like breathing and dragging herself to the bathroom.

“There it is.” Mario beamed. “That’s all I wanted.”

“What?” Taylor wasn’t sure what he was talking about.

“I’ve seen you with Owen. I had a single mom, and she wasnot…” Mario took a deep, shaky breath. “Well, I’ll just say, you are one of the good ones. These past few days you lost your smile. I wanted to help you find it.”

Taylor felt herself tear up. That might be the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her.

“No.” Mario shook his head as he covered his eyes. “I don’t want to see that. I’m leaving on a happy note.”

He left as quickly as he came, humming a little tune under his breath.

Taylor looked around, and, for the first time since her admission, she really saw the room. There were cards taped up—some handmade, some with glitter and puns; one large one wassigned by Owen’s entire classroom. He’d only been in school a few weeks.

She’d been so focused on the endless rounds of tests, the IVs, and the uncertainty that she hadn’t realized how many get-well wishes she’d received. It was almost overwhelming. There were bouquets from the residents at Golden Years collectively and some individually, and over a dozen women at the book club had either sent balloons or stuffed animals or both. Taylor started counting the deliveries and stopped after two dozen.

It wasn’t just the gifts; she’d had visitors. Audrey and Viv both came by yesterday; they assured her that her job was waiting for her when she was feeling better and offered any help she needed. She thought back to her childhood, to the endless parade of foster homes, the years where birthdays and Christmas meant a polite, distant greeting cardifshe was lucky. She’d never been the kind of person who expected anyone to show up for her. As she looked around, she saw that she was surrounded by messages of support and encouragement. She felt buoyed in a weird current of belonging. It was like being dropped into a family reunion she hadn’t known she was invited to.

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