Page 34 of Cluelessly Yours

Brooke glares at me as the doctor steps up to Grant’s bedside, and I narrow my eyes in warning, silently conveying,Cut it out.

She flashes Ross Geller’s version of the middle finger at me, but thankfully, Dr. McCormick is too busy examining Grant to notice.

“How are you feeling, Grant?” the doctor asks, and I’m happy to see my little boy’s eyes open.

“Good,” he says, his voice still a little scratchy with sleep.

“Well, you did awesome in your surgery,” Dr. McCormick says with a smile. “Do you remember why you had to have surgery?”

Grant nods. “Cuz I broke my arm.”

“That’s right,” the doctor agrees with a nod. “You broke your arm, and you had surgery so that we could fix it.”

“Is it fixed?”

“It is, buddy,” I say and rub a gentle hand over his cheek.

Dr. McCormick examines the circulation in Grant’s fingertips, ensuring that the cast isn’t too tight, and Grant just stares down at his red-casted arm with curious eyes.

“You think I’ll be able to play the guitar?” Grant blurts out, and the doctor looks over at him with a smile.

Guitar? What is he talking about?

“Yes, of course,” Dr. McCormick answers quickly. “Once your arm has some healing time, you’ll be able to play your guitar again in no time.”

“That’s so cool!” Grant fist-pumps the air with his uncasted arm. “I’ve always wanted to play the guitar! How good do you think I’ll be?”

Dr. McCormick bursts into laughter, and his eyes meet mine. “You have quite the spitfire here.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, everything is looking really good, Mom,” the doctor announces with confident shoulders. “We’re going to keep Grant overnight just to be safe, but for the next few days, I want him to rest and keep his arm elevated.”

“Okay.” I nod, already mentally making note that I’ll need to call Zoe ASAP and make sure she and Seth are settled for the night. The last time I talked to her, they had finished up their pizza dinner and were watching a movie. “And what about his plan of care after this? What can we expect?”

Dr. McCormick dives into the details about Grant’s surgery, his recovery time, and the physical therapy he’ll need to do. But the entire time, I can feel my sister’s eyes boring holes into my skull, and I know it’s for reasons that have nothing to do with broken arms and doctor’s appointments.

I don’t dare make eye contact.

The last thing I’m going to think about right now is men and almost-kisses with men and dating men and having relationships with men. From here on out, my only priority is my kids. Not handsome doctors with adorable dogs named Dolly and too many female acquaintances to count, or businessmen with striking smiles and expensive taste in wine.

Yes. Exactly. My mind is made up.

“Noah!” Grant shouts excitedly, and it makes both Dr. McCormick and me turn toward the door.

“Looks like someone is awake,” Noah says with a big smile on his face as he walks toward Grant’s bed.

And my son, well, his smile consumes his whole cute face when Noah stops at his bedside to ruffle his hair and say, “You handled your surgery like a champ. Proud of you, bud.”

The whole scene makes my heart ache.I wish so badly my boys had a father who cared.

And just as Brooke’s eyes pointedly meet mine and she tries to silently convey things I don’t want to think about, my phone chirps with an incoming message.

Gavin: I’m still here. Finishing up a work call in the waiting room. Grant still doing okay? Do you guys need anything?

Are you sure your mind is made up? Because things are starting to feel pretty complicated…

Monday, May 9th

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