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“My girlfriend is a bartender too,” he says as he places my beer on a coaster in front of me. “I make a point of never having a drink in the bar where she works if I can help it.” He winks at me and then leaves to serve someone else.
I feel like an idiot and resist the urge to follow Cora with my gaze. I realize that it’s creepy and might result in me being banned from the bar.
Soft hands go around my shoulders, and I know immediately that it’s Cora. She kisses my cheek and walks around my stool.
“What a nice surprise,” she says, smiling at me.
“Yeah, I got an email that made me want to celebrate with you.”
Her eyes widen. “You got the job.”
“I did.”
“Congratulations,” Cora shrieks.
“What are we celebrating,” Caroline says, leaning on the counter. “Hi, Thomas.”
“Thomas applied for an opening at Mercy Hospital in the obstetrics and gynecology department, and he just got it,” Cora says.
Caroline grins. “Congratulations. That’s a huge deal. I’ll be able to boast to my friends that my son-in-law is a top guy at the hospital.”
“Mom, Thomas is not your son-in-law,” Cora says.
“Not yet.” She winks and leaves.
“Forget about her,” Cora says. “I have to go. Will you wait till the end of my shift?”
“That’s the plan,” I tell her.
Tom serves me another beer, and as I sit there enjoying my drink and the atmosphere, my thoughts return to Cora and the day she’ll move out. It’s approaching very fast. Soon she’ll get a letter telling her that it’s safe to move back into the building. Will she be comfortable with moving back into her building? I know I won’t, which is irrational thinking as they’ll have done all the checks to ensure that it’s fit to be lived in.
If she moves back to her apartment, who will be there to take her to the hospital when it’s baby time? Yes, I know she’ll have her phone, and she can call me or an ambulance when the contractions start to come. Unexpected things happen, though, and babies have been known to make their way out of their mothers without warning. Cora could be one of those women. I need to be close by to ensure that everything goes smoothly.
Then there’s also the issue of taking care of a newborn while she’s healing from the birthing process. She’ll need help, and I know how to take care of a baby. By my sixth glass of beer, I’m a hundred percent sure that Cora staying with me is the best idea.
I also suspect that I might have celebrated too hard and drunk more than I should have.
“I’m done,” Cora says, coming to stand by me clad in her street clothes.
I swirl around. “I’m ready.” My voice is slurring. I stand and follow Cora out.
As we walk to the car, she looks at me and laughs. “Are you drunk?”
An avalanche of emotion comes over me, and I lunge for her and pull her to me. The wave of emotion I feel makes me want to hold her as tightly as I can, but there’s the baby to think about.
Cora laughs and tries to push me away. “Let’s get in my car. We’ll leave yours here and get it tomorrow. You’re in no state to drive, Doctor Clarkson.”
I’m not going to argue about that. In the car, I fasten my seat belt and then turn to Cora. “Stay with me.”
She looks at me quizzically. “I am staying with you.”
“I drove by your building.” I’m struggling to get the right words out. Fuck. I’m a lot drunker than I thought. “The building is almost ready to be occupied again.”
What I want to say is important, and I don’t want to fuck it up. I gather my thoughts before speaking again. “What I mean is that you could stay with me until after the baby is born. I’m good with babies, and you’ll need more space than you have in your apartment.”
She raises an eyebrow. “How much space can a baby take, honestly? If your worry is space, don’t worry about it, we’ll be fine.” She turns the ignition key and reverses the car out of the parking slot.
“It’s not just the lack of space.” Nobody has ever accused me of lacking persistence. “It’s also about having someone to help you with the baby. Babies are deceiving. They look very tiny and peaceful, but the little rascals are a lot of work.”
She laughs, giving me hope that there’s a chance she might say yes.
“Let’s talk about it tomorrow when you’re less inebriated,” she says instead.
“Isn’t it easier to say drunk?” I ask her.
“Maybe, but it sounds nicer. Drunk sounds common, and if there’s one thing you’re not, it’s common,” Cora says with a laugh.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, mother of my baby.”
