He closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. “I don’t know why I bothered calling you. You’re still the same bigots you were back then.”
“You have no idea how much it hurt us having you turn on us like that. You and Meri, both.”
“I didn’t turn on you, Mom. I finally admitted the truth about myself. I was stupid enough to think you actually loved me and gave a shit about me. You know what? Sorry I called. Good-bye.”
He angrily punched the end button and dropped the phone onto the bed.
Then he picked up the two sonogram pictures and stared at them. It was way too soon to be able to tell the babies’ genders.
“I promise you both I’m going to be there,” he said. “I don’t care if you’re gay or straight or whatever. I’m your daddy and I’m going to be there, I swear.”
When his phone rang, he almost hit end without thinking, assuming it was his mom calling him back. Then he realized it was Eve, but he hadn’t yet assigned her a custom ringtone like he had for Meri and Kimbra and other close friends.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Kimbra talked to Ivan and he’ll come over tomorrow night for dinner. He’ll be here by eight, but we told him any time after six.”
“Okay, good. I’ll be there.” He stared at the pictures. “Thank you for telling me and letting me be in their lives. I won’t let you guys down, I promise.”
“I want you to be involved. I like Kimbra’s idea of us maybe all buying a house together, like Leo’s family.”
“Yeah. I mean, I know we need to go through all the logistics and financials about that, but yeah.”
“We’ve got time,” she said. “Let’s take this one step at a time. I mean, I know the three of us could live together. I don’t even know this Ivan guy. I haven’t met him yet.”
“I call dibs on being called ‘Daddy’.”
She laughed. “I’ll pass that on to Ma’am.”
Chapter Seventeen
Tuesday morning, Ivan removed the dressing and checked his right thigh. It looked okay, so during his morning shower he cleaned it with surgical soap. After, he soaked another gauze pad in alcohol and pressed it to the marks, sucking in air as it stung. But he welcomed the pain, used it to help center him. He held the gauze pad in place with his right hand, while the fingers of his left sought one of the fresh bruises on his left thigh, caressing, testing, then pressing on the most tender point to add a little extra jolt to his brain.
He closed his eyes as he stood there, naked, while a soft, peaceful hum broke through the manic static crackling in his soul and jangling his nerves. Just enough to sand off the sharp edges and points so he could function today.
It’d probably be late when he returned home tonight, so he knew he wouldn’t have time to do anything else. This would have to do, for now. Tomorrow night, though…
He finally pulled the gauze pad away and checked it again. It’d heal up fine, like they always did. He carefully redressed it before pulling on clothes.
How the hell am I supposed to be a father?
That soft, nasty-smooth whisper was the same one that had tried to tell him he’d never graduate high school, never get a scholarship or student loans, would never make it through college, never make it into med school, never make it through residency…
That he wasn’t good enough, that he’d never measure up.
That he was a disappointment across the board.
He knew the voice lied. It always lied to him.
Didn’t mean he had yet figured out a way to totally shut it down.
It sounded like his father’s voice when he’d yelled at him, or right before he’d added another bruise to Ivan’s arm or thigh with his fist because he’d been drunk that night, the only outlet the man had for his rage. Bruises Ivan never showed his mother, never talked about.
The voice knew all his weak points and how to best try to break him.
It hadn’t yet. Although it’d come close a couple of times.
I have to be strong.
Maybe this was the answer. Someone to finally live for.
Perhaps not the most healthy of reasons, but he wasn’t going to argue over it. He finally had a focus, something outside himself. Helping people, saving lives—he wasn’t the only one doing that. There was no argument why it had to be him in particular doing it.
A baby.
His baby.
A chance to right the karmic scale in his favor. To prove to himself he wasn’t a fuckup or worthless or any of those other things the voice whispered to him at night while he tried to go to sleep.
This had been a miracle, of sorts. That Kimbra had gone to the Toucan that weekend. That they’d met. That he’d worked up the nerve to approach her when he spotted her alone after admiring her friend from afar all afternoon.
That she’d said yes.
That he’d said yes.
He didn’t want to engage in doctor mode right now. He didn’t want to revisit the units he’d spent in obstetrics and pediatrics during med school and residency.
He didn’t want to think worst-case scenarios, or the hurdles that would have to be jumped to end up with a healthy baby in his arms in seven and a half months.
He wanted to believe.
For the first time since he was a kid in his grandmother’s kitchen, he truly felt hope.
That was a feeling he desperately didn’t want to lose.
* * * *
Kimbra gave up trying to work around three and headed home, texting Eve when she was in her car.
I’m cutting out early. Heading home.
Kimbra hadn’t even set her phone down yet when she replied.
I’ll meet you there, Ma’am.
Kimbra knew her smile looked lopsided and snarky, because the snarky reply she’d leave unspoken wanted to be given a voice.
At least I don’t have problems getting her attention now.
Yeah. That was something she needed to leave in the locker room. They had more than enough crazy swirling around them. No need to bring the past back into it like that.
Especially not when her own glass house had damn thin walls.
She beat Eve there by about ten minutes, and that was including a stop by the grocery store. Ivan wouldn’t leave their house that night until Kimbra had seen him actually eat something. If her memory served her correctly, he was thin, nearly frail-looking. The more she thought about it, the more she worried about him, and would keep worrying about him until she was sure he was…okay.
Or until she could get him to tell her the full truth. Whatever he’d held back during their brief talks thus far.
Except they didn’t even know each other. How could she expect to core through his shell?
She would try.
She had dinner close to ready when Ivan texted her at a quarter till six that he was on his way. Ron had been held up on a job, but would be there as soon as he could after stopping by home first for a shower. She’d made stew, so it could slowly simmer and not be ruined.
And she’d been craving it all day, anyway.
Eve walked in. “What, exactly, are we telling our parental units?”
“Nothing until we’ve got a story we can all agree on.” She pulled Eve into her arms for a kiss. “You want to tell them we both made drunken mistakes?”
“Not really, no. Although I am hoping finally getting the grandbaby Mom and Dad have always wanted makes them totally miss the forest over that particular sapling.”
Kimbra answered the door when Ivan arrived, and he looked just as rough today as he had last night, a far cry from the smiling, borderline cocky twink she’d first encountered in the Toucan’s courtyard.
“Hey, sweetie. Come on in.”
Eve, already fully briefed by Kimbra about his reaction, had held back in the living room so as not to overwhelm him right through the door.
Kimbra closed the door and held her arms open for a hug. It wasn’t reluctance, exactly, that she sensed in him when he finally st
epped in. But the way he relaxed in her arms as she held him, before he started crying again, told her he was anything but okay.
The way his arms tightened around her as he cried, clinging to her.
She stroked the back of his head, her soul shredding for him. She didn’t know what he’d been through in his life, but she knew they couldn’t abandon him. Once Eve got to know him, hopefully she’d agree.
Except they’d both be getting to know him. Kimbra had less than twelve hours’ time with the boy.
Maybe he’d hit it off with Ron. If so, perhaps that man could be the salve Ivan’s soul desperately appeared to need.
She finally steered him over to the living room. Eve had left, reappearing with a box of tissues that she held out to him.
“Thanks,” he sniffled, taking a few.
“This is my wife, Eve Cannon,” Kimbra said. “Eve, Dr. Ivan Mercado.”
Bless her heart, Eve put on the sweet smile and patted his shoulder before leaning in for a quick hug. “Nice to meet you, sweetie. Sorry this is so…crazy. We’ll all get through this.”
He nodded but was too busy blowing his nose to reply.
If I can just get him to stop crying long enough for him and Ron to get to know each other.
Once they were settled on the couch, with Ivan in the middle, Kimbra got started. “Ron’s running a little late tonight. Got caught at a job site. He’ll be here soon, though. Is it okay if we hold dinner until he arrives?”
“Yeah. That’s fine.”
“You’re really thirty-four?” Eve asked.
Kimbra snorted. “He’s almost three years older than you, honey,” she teased. “I went from cougar to cradle-robber.”
Eve giggled. “I didn’t say it, Ma’am—you did.”
“How old are you?” Ivan asked Kimbra.
“Forty-three.” She laughed. “And, believe me, I’m sure my ex-husband is mentally giving me a ration of shit about this.”
“Why?”
“I mean playfully, not in a bad way. We’re still friends. The why is in part because I swore I was never having kids, and he wanted kids. But yes, I am having this baby,” she quickly added, just to help stave off another crying jag from Ivan.
“You’re going to need a high-risk obstetrician because of your age. I’ll ask around and find the best one.”
“We are going to need a new doctor, because ours is leaving town in a couple of months. She gave us a list for referrals for obstetricians.”
“But do any of them specialize in high-risk pregnancies?” he insisted.
Okay, he had her there. She exchanged a glance with Eve. “I don’t know.”
Ivan emphatically shook his head and pulled out his phone, started scrolling through contacts. “I’ll have a referral for you by tomorrow morning so we can get you in for an appointment with them as soon as possible. There has to be someone in the area. If not, we’ll find you someone up in St. Pete, and—”
“Ivan,” Kimbra said, just a little edge in her tone, enough to make his head snap up and meet her gaze again. “It’s all right, sweetie. Please, don’t panic. We’ll deal with this. Doesn’t have to happen tonight.”
“I-I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Kimbra closed her eyes and silently swore as Eve giggled on his other side.
“You ain’t helpin’,” she groused at Eve.
“No, I’m not, but I am enjoying the hell out of this more than you can ever imagine. Ma’am.”
Kimbra opened her eyes and shot Eve mega-wattage side-eye, but then refocused on Ivan. “Honey, I’m not your ma’am. You don’t have to call me that.”
“Sorry.”
“You also don’t have to apologize to me all the time, okay? We’re all in this together. I screwed up, I own it, and I’m going to do this.”
“You can call her ma’am if you want to,” Eve said with an evil grin. “I don’t mind.”
Kimbra tipped her head. “You don’t get to decide that, missy!”
Eve’s grin stretched nearly ear-to-ear and would have made Jack Nicholson as the Joker proud. “Yes, Ma’am.”
Even Kimbra heard the capital M.
“Jeezusfuck,” Kimbra muttered. But when she returned her focus to Ivan, at least he was finally smiling.
Barely, but still, he didn’t look like he was going to start crying again.
Finally.
Now she knew what Eve was up to. Kimbra hugged Ivan again and while she did dropped Eve a wink so Ivan couldn’t see.
If Ron would just hurry the fuck up and get himself here, that’d be great. The sooner she could hand Ivan off to him, the better she suspected all their lives would be. Ivan would be perfect for Ron, someone for Ron to take care of, a stable emotional anchor for Ivan to hold on to. She suspected Ron would have the perfect combination of naughty and nurture the younger man desperately needed.
* * * *
The first thing Eve thought when she actually laid eyes on Ivan was how shit-faced drunk Kimbra must have been to sleep with him in the first place. Hell, even dressed in slacks and a button-up shirt the guy looked like he was in his mid-twenties, if that.
Barely.
He was a cutie, though. Hopefully Ron would like him, because Eve thought that’d be perfect. The four of them co-parenting together without worrying about significant others causing problems. Brown hair and sweet green eyes that bore more than a hint of sadness in them.
Yeah, she could totally see what Kimbra meant about him. He wore an air of fragility about him, and not just because he was thin-boned and slender. Hell, he was barely as tall as her, and she was an inch shorter than Kimbra.
“Oh,” Kimbra said. “Be right back.” She walked over to where her laptop case was propped against the living room wall and dug out the two ultrasound pictures. Eve knew exactly what they were, but the way Kimbra carried them kept the actual picture hidden from Ivan until Kimbra retook her seat.
“That’s your little guy. Or girl. We don’t know yet, obviously. And that little blob is Eve’s. I’m sorry we didn’t include you in yesterday’s appointment, but I wanted to talk to you in person. I didn’t think to show you those last night.”
Ivan gasped, his hands trembling as he took the pictures from her. Eve was already reaching for the tissue box again when she spotted the tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Oh, my god,” he whispered.
“Keep the tissues handy,” Kimbra gently snarked to her, shooting her a wry smile. “He’s gonna need ’em.”
Hell, Eve wasn’t too sure she might not need them, too. “Ron took video of them doing our ultrasounds,” Eve told him. “I’m sure he’ll give you the DropBox link.”
“Can I have these?”
“Yeah,” Kimbra said. “Those are your copies.”
He laid the pictures in his lap and Eve pressed more tissues into his hand.
Eve heard Ron’s car pull up, but before she could stand, he’d knocked twice and let himself in. “Hey, guys. Sorry to hold you all up.”
Oh, thank god!
Eve hoped Kimbra was paying attention, because from the way Ron pulled up short when he spotted Ivan sitting there, she suspected maybe there’d be some sparks flying.
Ivan was still head-down over the pictures, but Kimbra smiled and dropped Eve a wink.
Good. We’re on the same page.
Chapter Eighteen
Hail, Odin, please don’t be fucking with me. Your boy needs a damn break.
Yeah, it was the twink from the Toucan, and part of him wanted to charge in there and see why he was crying and fix everything for him, right then.
Then he realized Kimbra had given Ivan his copies of the ultrasound pics and Ron understood all too well why the man was crying.
He stopped, took a deep breath to calm himself, and walked over, hugging Eve, then Kimbra, when they stood to greet him.
“And this is Dr. Ivan Mercado,” Kimbra said, resting a hand on the younger man’s shoulder when he didn’t look up.
Finally realizing he was being addressed, he looked up at Kimbra, then at Ron.
Ron’s throat dried up at the sight of his gorgeous green eyes, like a leaf green, light, with hints of brown and hazel in them. “Hey.” He stuck his hand out and fought the urge to wipe it on his slacks first because he thought his palms might now be sweating. “Ron Dutton. Nice to finally meet you.”
Ivan nodded and shook with him. He had long, delicate fingers, soft skin, with fine-boned hands and wrists leading to slender arms that disappeared up under his rolled-up sleeves. Ron made sure he didn’t squeeze too hard when he shook with him.
The clothes Ivan wore tonight aged him a little—barely. He still looked young, and if Kimbra hadn’t told Ron she’d seen the guy’s driver’s license, he’d insist Ivan was barely twenty-five, if that. But at least with his hair combed and the clothes, it was easier to take the man seriously.
Although the view had been a lot nicer with him in his Speedo.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Ivan said, his focus immediately returning to the ultrasound pics.
Eve not-so-subtly swapped places with Ron and pushed on his shoulders to get him to sit next to Ivan.
“Ma’am and I will get dinner on the table,” she said. “You two sit there and talk. Ron, I think he wants to see the videos from yesterday’s appointment.”
The two women quickly disappeared into the kitchen.
Ivan looked up at him. “Can I?”
“Of course.” He pulled his phone out and cued up the first video, taking a risk and using the excuse of sitting close to drape his right arm around Ivan’s shoulders while holding the phone in his left hand.
Ivan’s hand flew to his mouth as he silently cried while watching it. Ron couldn’t help but watch Ivan, and stroke the man’s back, trying to comfort him. When it finished, Ron quickly queued up the next one and wondered if Ivan might want to watch both of them several dozen times so he could remain seated here next to him.
He wasn’t even sure if Ivan realized he was leaning into Ron’s embrace as Ron watched him.