Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Okay.” I nod, already mentally making note that I’ll need to call Zoe ASAP and make sure she and Seth are settled for the night. The last time I talked to her, they had finished up their pizza dinner and were watching a movie. “And what about his plan of care after this? What can we expect?”
Dr. McCormick dives into the details about Grant’s surgery, his recovery time, and the physical therapy he’ll need to do. But the entire time, I can feel my sister’s eyes boring holes into my skull, and I know it’s for reasons that have nothing to do with broken arms and doctor’s appointments.
I don’t dare make eye contact.
The last thing I’m going to think about right now is men and almost-kisses with men and dating men and having relationships with men. From here on out, my only priority is my kids. Not handsome doctors with adorable dogs named Dolly and too many female acquaintances to count, or businessmen with striking smiles and expensive taste in wine.
Yes. Exactly. My mind is made up.
“Noah!” Grant shouts excitedly, and it makes both Dr. McCormick and me turn toward the door.
“Looks like someone is awake,” Noah says with a big smile on his face as he walks toward Grant’s bed.
And my son, well, his smile consumes his whole cute face when Noah stops at his bedside to ruffle his hair and say, “You handled your surgery like a champ. Proud of you, bud.”
The whole scene makes my heart ache. I wish so badly my boys had a father who cared.
And just as Brooke’s eyes pointedly meet mine and she tries to silently convey things I don’t want to think about, my phone chirps with an incoming message.
Gavin: I’m still here. Finishing up a work call in the waiting room. Grant still doing okay? Do you guys need anything?
Are you sure your mind is made up? Because things are starting to feel pretty complicated…
Monday, May 9th
At a little after ten in the morning, I hurry Grant through the main doors of the medical building where his orthopedic physician’s office is located and head toward the sign in the main lobby to figure out which floor his appointment is on.
Last Wednesday, we had a follow-up appointment with Dr. McCormick, who released Grant into the care of another orthopedic physician. This will be our first time meeting with Dr. Williams, but in typical Sammy fashion, after getting Seth to school and a last-minute “I have to poop” emergency from Grant, we’re running a few minutes behind.
Swiftly, I scroll my eyes through the list of physicians, trying to find Dr. Williams, but I only get halfway down the list when Grant shouts for me.
“Mom! Mom!”
When my kids start yelling, I pay attention. In the history of their rearing, I’ve found a snake in their bedroom, a lit sparkler in the toilet, and a set of scissors embedded in the mattress of one of their beds. When they’re quiet, they’re dangerous, but when they yell…I go running.
“Mom! Look at this!” Grant exclaims as he uses the weight of his casted arm to propel himself into a circle and just barely misses hitting an older gentleman walking past him.
My eyes practically pop out of my head as I rush forward to grab him by the shoulders and stop his momentum. “Buddy, you know you can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Remember what Dr. McCormick said? Your arm is still healing, and you need to be careful with it.” This past week proved that making sure a five-year-old boy rests his arm is far more challenging than one would think—and trust me, I thought it would be challenging. At this point, I’m just thankful he didn’t chew off his cast with his own teeth.
“But, Mom. I—”
“Grant.” I eye him in a way that says I’m not in the mood for bullshit today. It’s a universal maternal look all mothers learn by the time their child is a toddler, and I can personally vouch that it’s a crucial skill for survival.
“Ah, shucks,” he groans while I gently guide him over to the directory of physicians with me and resume my search for Dr. Williams.
Thankfully, the list is alphabetical, and I find the Ws pretty quickly.
Dr. Waters 304
Dr. Weller 215
Dr. Williams 402
“Okay, buddy, looks like we need to go to—”
“Mom! Noah is here!” Grant yells at the top of his lungs and runs full sprint past me before I can stop him.
In a matter of seconds, he’s barreling into a smiling, scrub-wearing Noah and is being lifted up and off the floor and into his arms quicker than I can even register what’s happening.
“Hey, little man,” Noah greets and sets Grant back to his feet. “How’s the arm?”
“Pretty good. Let me show you this cool trick I can—”
Quick as a whip, I close the distance between myself and my wild child and grip both of his shoulders with two strong mom hands.