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“Try to keep your weight off of it, alright?” Dr. Warren, our team primary doctor, instructs me with a pointed look. “At least for the next couple of days. That means no working out.”
My lips turn downwards. “Things I hate to hear,” I mutter, earning a laugh from her. “You’re killing me here, Dr. Warren.”
She rolls her eyes, bemused. She often tells me, and a couple of us others, to just call her Skylar when it’s just us. Even if she knows we respect the hell out of her and doesn’t mind being called by her first name, we still insist on referring to her by her title because she earned it. And I’m pretty sure Coach Scott would brutalize our practice if we called her anything other than doctor.
“Well, I might as well drive the knife home,” she says with a small grin, moving to the side. My shoulders instantly drop when I see her bring out a crutch. “You should use this.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Don’t be stubborn,” Dr. Warren says firmly, her eyes leaving no room for argument. “You want that ankle to be better? Let it heal without further aggravating it.”
I know she’s right, but the sight of the crutch makes me cringe. “Got it,” I say, reluctantly grabbing the offending object out of her hand.
Getting home is a slight bitch, but Reed and Willow give me a ride back. As I sit in the backseat of their car, I casually ask, “So, how’s married life treating you?”
Reed sounds like he’s choking on a scoff, while Willow throws me an amused look over her shoulder. “Why? Are you thinking of settling down with someone?” she asks with a wiggle of her eyebrows.
That pulls a scoff out of me, rolling my eyes. “No,” I tell her truthfully. “Excuse me for being curious about my friends’ lives.”
I have no interest, currently, in getting married. Honestly, it’s not something that has been on my radar at any point in time, because I simply haven’t been in any kind of long term, meaningful relationship to even consider marriage an option. Even Lilah’s mom, Caitlin, had been a woman I had gone on only a few dates with. No one of any importance, other than the fact that she gave me the most important thing in my life. Lilah.
With a deep chuckle, Reed says, “Married life is great. I highly recommend it.”
I smirk a little. That’s a big commendation, coming from Reed Maxwell, of all people. “Yeah? When are you gonna give Lilah and Elaine a new friend to play with?”
I swear, the car jerks a little. “Fucking hell, man,” Reed grunts. Meanwhile, Willow is cackling in her seat, not as perturbed by my question as her husband is.
“Ask us again when the season ends,” she replies cheekily, a glint in her eyes, which only makes my eyebrows flick up in pleasant surprise.
“Oh-ho,” I say with a grin. “Can’t wait to see Reed struggling to change a dirty diaper.”
My friend throws me a mildly irritated look through the rearview mirror, and Willow lets out a laugh. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll become an expert at it.” She pats Reed’s arm. “It’ll be his job to do it, anyway.”
“Oh? Just me?” Reed asks, throwing her a glance.
“Damn straight,” Willow snorts. “I carry ’em, you change ’em. That’s how this’ll work, Maxwell.”
I chuckle along with them, but I feel a tightness in my chest that makes itself known every now and then. Very rare, far and few in between, but it happens and whenever it does, I kind of fucking hate it. This pang of feeling like Lilah is missing out on something, even though I do my best to give her everything she could ever have, not ever wanting her to want for anything.
But, the truth of the matter is, Lilahismissing something. She doesn’t have a mom, and it never has seemed like it’s something sheknowsis missing from her life. All she has, really, is me and Andrea, and our parents. They are pretty involved, as far as grandparents go, and spoil Lilah whenever they see her.
Then I think of Alex, a new addition, and someone who has become so entwined in Lilah’s life in the short time she has begun working for us. I see the way Lilah looks at her, and I know she’s just a three-year-old girl who looks at everyone brightly, happily, but I can’t help but get the sense that it is different when she looks at Alex. Lilah absolutely loves spending time with her nanny, and I can see, clear as day, how devoted Alex is to taking care of Lilah. The two of them, already, are two peas in a damn pod, giggling amongst themselves. Unsurprising, given how much time in a day they spend together.
I just… don’t want Lilah to feel like I am depriving her of something. Or, God forbid, ever let her think that she is the reason why her mom didn’t stick around. The truth is, Caitlin very quickly realized, after giving birth, that she didn’t want to be a mother. She didn’t want the responsibility of taking care of someone. She said as much in the note she had left for me in the hospital after she gave birth, disappearing soon after.
And I could have found her. I could have looked for her, had people track her down. But she had been clear in the letter. Besides, I suspected throughout her pregnancy that she wasn’t happy. That she was dreading giving birth, of having a kid. She went through with the pregnancy anyway because I think. . . I think she saw that as freaked out as I was about having a kid, I was also really fucking excited. I couldn’t wait to meet my child, and Caitlin did me a kindness by going through with it. I also think, at that point, she was telling herself that maybe she could do it. That, despite her reservations and justified fear of becoming a parent, that she would be able to step up and rise to the occasion.
Of course, that belief she tried having in herself didn’t last long. She was gone hours after giving birth, and I haven’t heard from her in the last three years. And while I ache for that loss for my daughter, I also understand Caitlin’s decision. She wouldn’t have been happy, and Lilah deserves to have parents in her life that love her unconditionally. And if that’s just me, then so be it. I just hope, every day, that I’m enough for her.
I hope she doesn’t grow up to resent me.
When the car pulls up to my house, I thank Reed and Willow for the ride and grab the crutch, only half using it as I walk up the path to the front door. The night blankets the sky, the sconces framing the front door lit up and providing the exterior with a dim glow as I get to the front door and use my key to get inside.
As usual, it’s silent inside, and I grunt in annoyance as I use the crutch to walk into the living room where I see Alex on the couch. This time, instead of a book in her hand, she’s on her laptop, but she feels my presence because she begins to lift her head and starts, “Hey, welco—oh, my gosh, are you okay?”
I see the way Alex’s eyes widen when she takes in the sight of the crutch, instantly sitting up and closing her laptop. The concern on her face pulls something inside my chest, her eyebrows pulled together and lips turned downwards, looking ready to jump up from the couch and help me as if my foot is broken and not just slightly sprained.
“I’m fine,” I assure her with a quiet chuckle, walking further into the room. Her eyes track my every movement, looking at me as if I’m seconds away from toppling over. “Just a light sprain during the game. Par for the course.”
