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“Of course. Tell Emma I said congrats.”
“Will do.”
“It was good seeing you, Lennon.”
“Yeah, you too.” I force the best smile I can muster, give Hannah a small nod, and then quickly step past them, feeling like I can’t get away fast enough.
Two minutes later, I’m stepping into the maternity ward, my stomach balled tight with nerves. Partly from my run in with Gage but mostly because my best friend is getting ready to have a baby.
After a quick stop at the nurses’ station to find out what room Emma is in, I head to the end of the hall and turn right, locating room four ninety-eight instantly.
Not sure if I should just walk in, I lightly knock on the door and wait, noticing it sounds eerily quiet inside. I half expected to hear Emma screaming all the way in the lobby.
I step back when the door swings open and Robert appears, looking a little stressed but all in all pretty good considering.
“Is she here?” Emma questions from within the room. Robert quickly steps to the side letting me pass and within seconds I have eyes on Emma who like her husband, looks pretty good considering. And just like that my run in with Gage falls into the background as my sole focus becomes Emma.
“Hey.” I quickly cross to her bedside. “How are you feeling?” I ask, taking a seat on the edge of her bed before reaching for her hand.
“Like I’m about to shit a watermelon out of my front hole and I have no idea how it’s going to fit.” She half laughs, half cries.
I instantly burst out laughing, I can’t help it.
“Women do it every day, sweetie,” I remind her. “You got this.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one with a drip in their spine and a tube shoved up your pee hole.”
“This is true.” I suppress another laugh. “Is there anything I can get for you? Anything you need?”
“Yeah. Ice cream.” She looks past me to give Robert an evil look.
“Hey, doctor’s orders. Not mine.” He holds his hands up in defense, his smile wide.
“Assholes won’t let me have anything but ice chips.Ice chips. What the hell are ice chips supposed to do?”
The doctor interrupts before Emma can continue her rant, coming in to check on her and the baby.
I stay with Emma over the next few hours but step out once they decide it’s time for her to start pushing. As much as I wanted to stay, I also didn’t want to impose on such an intimate moment for her family.
So, I wait not so patiently in the maternity waiting room with Emma and Robert’s parents, who’d arrived shortly after I did. Nearly an hour later, Robert came out and announced they had a healthy four and a half pound baby boy. They named him Robert Jeffery after both of their fathers.
Because Robby, which is what I’ve decided I’m calling my little nephew, was born an estimated seven weeks early, he will spend at least the next couple of weeks in the NICU, maybe more.
I wasn’t able to hold him but I did get to look at the pictures Robert took before they hauled him away. From what I can tell he has his mommy’s light brown skin and his father’s dark eyes. The most beautiful baby I think I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen that many babies in my lifetime but I know a cute one when I see it.
Now, lying in bed, I find myself staring at the ceiling not able to shut off my brain enough to actually fall asleep. I think about Emma and Robert, about little baby Robby, about the beautiful adventure they are all about to go on together. And while I couldn’t be happier for my best friend, a part of me feels a little left behind.
Everyone is married and starting families, yet I feel completely stuck in place. I’m still living in my sister’s guest room and have yet to make any real decision about what I want to do with myself.
Jeff offered to rent me a unit he had available, but for whatever reason I couldn’t accept it. It’s like I’m afraid to commit to anything yet. Like I’m waiting for something but have no idea what it is.
You know what you’re waiting for,the little voice in the back of my head reminds me.You’re waiting for him.
Refusing to entertain the thought, I roll over and curl into a ball, snuggling deeper into the covers. I can’t let myself go there. Not now. Not when I’m finally starting to feel somewhat okay again.
That’s not true. I’m not even close to okay. I’m just so busy trying to convince myself and everyone else that I am okay that I’m starting to believe the lie. But when I slow down, when I give myself time to think about Hudson and what we had, the ache deep in my chest is undeniable.
When he left he took a piece of me with him and I don’t think I’ll ever feel whole again. Truth is, I don’t know that I have it in me to try to pretend otherwise anymore.
