Page 32 of Dr. Baby Daddy
Even though I told Oliver I would order in, I made dinner instead. I needed something to do with my hands to avoid the anxiety circling around my mind. I don’t know what’s been going on the last four days, but it feels like the end of whatever was starting between the two of us.
The gnocchi simmers in the cream sauce while one of my favorite songs plays through the speakers I have set up around the apartment.
I slice the smoked sausage into thin slivers before tossing it into the pan. As I’m giving dinner another stir, there’s a knock at the front door.
My heart pounds against my ribs as I stride across the room and pull open the door. Oliver stands in front of me, his eyes bloodshot and swollen as he stares at the ground.
The anger and anxiety that’s been simmering all day fades as he steps inside and a tear rolls down his cheek.
“What’s wrong?” I touch his cheek as he takes off his shoes. “Is everything okay? If you have to spend more time at the hospital tonight, we can talk about everything else another day.”
Oliver shakes his head and swipes away another tear that falls. He lets out a strangled sigh and pulls himself up taller. “No, we need to talk about this tonight. I’ve just had a hard night.”
“Well, come take a seat at the counter and tell me about it while I finish cooking dinner.”
Oliver follows me inside and takes a seat at one of the burnt orange stools at the counter. He runs his hands down his face, the color drained from his skin. He looks like a ghost of a man as I turn down the heat on dinner and dump in the parmesan cheese.
I turn back to him once the cheese is mixed in. “What happened tonight? You said there was an incoming trauma when we got off the phone. How did that go?”
Based on his face, it didn’t go well.
His shoulders slump as he folds his arms and leans forward on the counter. “Six car pileup just outside of the city. Some drunk idiot caused it. We lost three out of the fifteen people brought in.”
I round the counter and wrap my arms around his shoulders. Oliver leans into my embrace, his breath hitching as I bury my face in his neck. He holds onto my arm like it’s his lifeline in the middle of a hurricane.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that tonight. I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”
His lips press against my forehead. “It wasn’t good. The trauma team was overrun, and we had families flooding the waiting rooms. Everybody wanted updates and there weren’t enough people to give them. Then me and Victor had to be the ones to take families to the side and give those updates or tell them that their loved ones were dead.”
I hold him tighter, wishing that it were enough to take away the pain. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”
His dark chuckle has me holding him tighter. “You should be mad at me right now. You should be pissed that I took off for four days. I should be the one apologizing to you right now for the way that I’ve been treating you.”
I run my fingers through his hair and pull back a little to look down at him. “If I wanted easy, I would have found someone easy to be with.”
“Are you calling me difficult?”
I give him a flat look. “Are you calling yourself anything but difficult?”
He smiles — though it doesn’t meet his eyes — and shrugs. “Not really. I know what I am. I am sorry, though. I shouldn’t have taken off for days without calling you.”
“We don’t have to talk about this right now.” I go back to the stove and check on dinner, tasting it before tossing more lemon zest in. “It’s been a long night.”
“It’s well after midnight, but I’m wide awake. I want to talk about it if you do. I don’t want this to just become some repressed thing that festers between us.”
I pull down two bowls from the cupboard and fill them with food. “All right. Let’s talk about it. Why have you been hiding away for the last four days? I assume you’ve been at the hospital, but if there is someone else, tell me now so I don’t waste my time.”
“And here I thought you weren’t confrontational.”
I smile and push his bowl in front of him. “Only with you.”
Oliver stirs around the gnocchi as steam curls toward the ceiling. “There is nobody else. Hasn’t been in two years. Don’t want there to be either. I don’t know what this thing is between the two of us, but I don’t want it to end, even if it scares the hell out of me.”
“It scares you?” I take a bite of dinner, closing my eyes and savoring the taste. When I look at Oliver, his smile finally crinkles the corners of his eyes. “What?”
“Watching you enjoy food is one of those things that makes me wish I could experience life the way you do.” He takes a large bite of food. “But yes, the way I feel about us scares me. It’s terrifying.”
“It’s supposed to be.” I go to the fridge and take out a bottle of white wine. His gaze burns a hole in my back as I pour two glasses and hand him one. “Is that why you disappeared off the face of the earth for the last couple days?”