“Guess I’ll add that to my list of why breasts are the third greatest thing in the world.”
“What are the first two?”
My voice drops to a whisper. “Not in front of the child, Nevaeh.”
She rolls her eyes. “And here I thought your son was the infant.” She purses her lips. “Come to think of it? How old are you? You can’t be a day past twenty-one.”
I’m not usually one for conversation, but I don’t want to be left alone with him. “Close. I’ll be twenty in a few weeks.”
She juts her chin at the baby. “Let me guess. His mother was your first serious girlfriend, and one night you got swept up in the heat of the moment and forgot to use a rubber.”
That gets a laugh out of me. “Hardly.” I point to my face with my free hand. “Do I look like an idiot?”
Leaning against the sink, she wrinkles her nose. “No, but you do have quite an air of entitlement about you.”
I grind my teeth. “So I’ve been told.”
By a certain pink-haired, angry girl who most likely wants me dead right now.
“So do you go to college? Have a job?”
“Jesus. Are you a nurse or my mother?”
She holds up her hands. “This isn’t an interrogation. I have a daughter around your age, and I know how busy her schedule is these days.”
Disbelief roots me to the spot as I take in her flawless dark skin and pretty features. I know I joked that she was old, but not that old.
“Why? Is she another teenage pregnancy statistic, too?”
This nurse is asking too many questions, and in my experience, the best way to make someone stop is to turn the tables around and ask them a few.
She straightens her spine. “No. At least I hope not, because her father would raise hell.” When I give her a look, she says, “She lives in Louisiana with him. That’s where my family’s from.”
To say I’m confused would be an understatement. “Shouldn’t that accent of yours be more Southern than French?”
A small smirk tilts her lips. “It’s not French. It’s called Louisiana Creole. But you wouldn’t be the first to confuse the two.”
That’s…interesting.
“Why doesn’t your daughter live with you?”
Judging by her body language, my question makes her uncomfortable, but she answers anyway. “I made a lot of mistakes when I was younger. Wasn’t really fit to be a mother back then…and by the time I got my act together and was ready to be, she already had one.”
“You gave her up for adoption?”
She gives her head a shake. “No. I ran off shortly after she was born, and her dad stepped up to the plate. A few years later, he fell in love with someone else and got married.” She looks away. “To my childhood best friend.”
My eyes widen. I thought my brother’s dating life was complicated, but this woman could give him a run for his money.
“Shit. That…sucks.”
She looks at the ceiling. “It hurt like hell at the time, but as strange as it sounds, it forced me to get my life together. The way I saw it, I had already lost them both, but I still had a daughter. And if I finally made her a priority instead of an option, maybe she would come around and make room for me in her life and eventually forgive me. It took a long time, and there were a lot of bumps and bruises along the way, but we’re at a good place now. She calls me once a week to catch up, and we talk about school, boys, and her friends. Sometimes she even comes here and stays with me for a few weeks whenever she needs a break.”
“Why did you walk out on her?”
I know the question is out of line, but I can’t help myself.
The groove in her forehead deepens. “At the time, I thought I was doing the best thing for her. But looking back, I think I was running because I wasn’t ready to change my life or who I was. I didn’t want to give up doing all the bad shit I was doing because it’s how I coped…and I thought if I didn’t have that, I wouldn’t be able to deal, and I’d fall apart.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I loved my baby and her father more than I ever loved anyone or anything, I still do…but I didn’t love myself back then. It was easier to run away than face my demons.” Her shoulders slump. “But the thing about running away from your problems is, the longer you’re gone, the harder it is to come back. Before I knew it, days had turned into weeks and weeks had turned into years, and I had missed all the good stuff. The stuff I was supposed to be there for.”
“Do you regret it?”
She looks me in the eye. “Every day of my life. Those are years and memories I’ll never get back.”
“What was the point of coming back then?” When she gives me a look, I say, “No offense, but the way I see it is, if having a relationship with your daughter and putting your life back together was only going to remind you of all the bad shit you did and things you missed out on, you would have been better off not going back in the first place. You already lost the guy you loved and your kid to your best friend, so why not just let everyone live in peace?” I look down at the baby on my chest. “Why settle for a portion of them when you know you’ll never have the whole thing? Why walk straight into the fire when you know you’ll only end up getting burned?”
“Because when life hands you a second chance, you take it and hold on to it with everything you’ve got.”
“Why? Second chances don’t change what happened.”
“You’re right, they don’t. But second chances are better than no chances. And while it doesn’t erase the past or rewrite history, it gives you the opportunity to fix the damage…build a stronger foundation.”
A squeaky cry fills the room, and I freeze. “What exactly am I supposed to do with him for the next forty-two minutes?”
“Anything you want. You can hum or sing.” When I grimace, she says, “You can sleep or talk.”
Anxiety shoots through me like a cannon when she walks toward the door. “You’re leaving us now? He’s crying.”
“He’s probably fussy because all our talking is disturbing his quiet time with his daddy.” She cocks her head in the direction of the exit. “I’ll be in the next room, but I’ll pop in every few minutes to check on you. You’ve got this. Spend time with your son. Bond and make memories.”
When her footsteps fade, I look down and whisper, “I’ll tell her the truth in a bit. I’m just waiting for your mother to pull her head out of her ass and visit you.” His crying comes to a halt, and the hum of the machines fades into the background. “She’ll be here soon, but until then you’re stuck with me.”
I swear he squeaks his disapproval.
“I know I’m not your number one choice, but I’m trying.” I draw in a ragged breath. “And for what it’s worth, I’m not usually sorry about much in my life, but I am sorry I did this to you.” I shift in my seat. The loathing I have for Becca is smothered by a massive dose of stone-cold reality. “I shouldn’t have fought with your mom and stressed her out…not while you were in there. But I promise, as soon as your mom is ready to see you, I’ll leave you alone for good. I’ll never hurt you again.”