Kara purses her lips together, annoyed talk of her wedding was interrupted with baby talk. It’s going to be that way until the baby is born, and I can totally understand both her and Dean’s frustration with it. It’s their day, and they deserve to have it be about them.
Then again, I shouldn’t have to downplay anything just to spare their feelings. I sigh, putting my hand on my stomach. Can’t we just all get along? Though really, having Dean’s panties all in a wad over the fact his wedding and my due date are two days apart is nothing compared to the strained relationship between Archer and Bobby.
12
Archer
“Look at you!” Mom coos, going right for Quinn’s belly. Quinn grins and bears it, and I mouth sorry to her, knowing she doesn’t like to have her stomach touched. “That’s a definite baby bump. She’s so precious, Archer.” Mom steps away, throwing her arms around me. She wasn’t always overly affectionate, but seeing your eldest son repeatedly knock on death’s door does something to you.
“She is,” I agree. “I think I’ll keep her.”
“How are you feeling?” Mom asks Quinn, following us into the house. We’re having dinner first, and Mrs. Dawson went all out with the food. This wasn’t supposed to be a big ordeal. Quinn and I wanted our family and that’s it, but it’s grown to more of a party-party than a small dinner party. We woke up this Saturday morning to Mrs. Dawson bustling about the kitchen, starting the cooking and cleaning early.
I didn’t expect my parents to come all this way down from Michigan, but Mom insisted she and Dad needed the break. Which they do. I haven’t asked about Bobby but haven’t been told he’s dead or in a coma yet, so that’s something.
“A little better,” Quinn tells her. “Still sick, but it’s worth it, right?”
“Oh, it is. And I feel like I should warn you. Both my babies were big. Archer was nine and a half pounds.”
Quinn makes a face and I laugh, wrapping my arm around her waist. She’s wearing a pale pink dress. It’s form-fitting, showing off the little baby bump she has going on. We go into the house, and I reintroduce my parents to Logan, Owen, and Weston. They’ve only met once or twice before.
My phone rings, and I’m sure it’s the hospital.
“Need to take it?” Quinn asks, looking at the caller ID.
“Yeah. I have a patient not doing well.”
“Go.” She motions to her dad’s office. “It’s quiet in there.”
“Thanks,” I answer, stepping into the office. Instead of bad news, the nurse is calling with current lab results and wants to know if I have new orders for her. I go over a few things, happy with the small progress my patient is making. When I go back to the party, I find Quinn in the kitchen, talking with both her mom and mine. She smiles as soon as she sees me and my heart swells in my chest.
“How’s your patient?” she asks, reaching for my hand.
“He’s doing better. I just had to go over lab work and give a few new orders.”
“We were talking about you, you know,” my mom says.
“Uh-oh. Do I want to know what you were saying?” I step closer to Quinn.
She laughs and tips her head up to mine. “We were just saying how proud we are of you.”
Mom leans in. “I might brag about my son the surgeon, just a bit.” She winks, and Bobby’s words come crashing down on me. Yeah, I’m fucking proud of myself too. It takes hard work and dedication to get through med school. It takes skill and talent to be able to slice people open, remove and rearrange internal organs, and have them not only live but leave in better shape than when they came in.
I’m a good doctor.
I should be proud.
Dammit, Bobby.
Mrs. Dawson smiles and looks at Quinn. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I brag about this one to anyone who’ll listen. Though I have the hardest time explaining what she does.”
Quinn laughs. “I have a hard time explaining it too. I’ve settled on calling myself a professional super nerd. But really, Arch, I am proud of you.”
“Yes,” Mom agrees. “And now you’re almost done.”
Quinn laughs. “Until he gets that trauma fellowship, which I’m sure he will.”
The smile disappears from my mother’s face. “More school? Even with a baby on the way?”
“It’s not as long as a residency, right?” Quinn asks, and her hand subconsciously lands on her belly.
“Right. It’s typically a year or two.”
“Would you stay at the same hospital?” Mrs. Dawson asks.
“No. I’m not sure where I’d end up. I’d love to get in at a trauma center. The more injuries, the better. For learning, I mean,” I say slowly, trying not to notice the way my own mother is looking at me. A year or two doesn’t sound long compared to what I’ve already been through, but missing a year of my child’s life…being away from Quinn…is it worth it in the end?
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you congratulations,” Mom says to Dean. We’re halfway through dinner and I’m getting full already. Everyone is crowded around the dining room table. It’s just like college when Dean and I would make the drive here just for dinner. I put my hand on Quinn’s thigh and turn to look at her. Maybe tonight I’ll tell her—finally tell her—just how much she means to me.
She wants to take things slow, and I think we are. We’re finding out what we’re having today and are bordering on the second trimester. I don’t know exactly what Quinn wants to expect. Whose last name is the baby going to take? Does she want to move in together?
If I get the fellowship, then that might not matter…
“Thank you,” Dean says, taking Kara’s hand to show off her ring.
“So when is the big day?”
Dean reaches for his water. “March sixteenth.”
“Oh.” Mom’s eyes widen. “The day before Archer’s birthday.” And two before Quinn is due. Thank you, Mom, for not bringing it up. “How nice. Are you having it around here?”
Kara gives her details, and Dean does his best not to look up across the table or at anyone else for that matter. Jackson slides out of his chair and crawls under the table, ignoring Weston telling him not to, and comes over to Quinn.
“Hey, buddy,” she says and sits him on her lap. He leans over, gently poking Quinn’s belly. Then he looks at me and Quinn’s belly again.
“Is that what Uncle Dean is mad?” he asks.
“What do you mean?” Quinn turns her head down to look at him.
“I heard Uncle Dean say Uncle Archer put a baby inside you. But how? Did it hurt? Did you swallow it like a watermelon seed and now it’s going to grow big and big and bigger?”
Quinn’s mouth falls open and she looks at me for help. I have no idea what to say either, and I’m becoming more and more aware of everyone else staring at us.
“If she swallowed it,” Owen starts, “then there wouldn’t—” He cuts off when Logan kicks him hard under the table.
Quinn’s cheeks are turning red, and everyone from her grandma to my dad are staring at her. Weston twists in his chair, glaring at his younger brother. “Why don’t we let Uncle Dean explain this one since he’s going around talking about it.”
“Okay,” Jackson says with a smile and looks at Dean. “Where did Uncle Archer get the baby? Why is it in Winnie’s belly? Why didn’t he just give it to her?” His brows furrow together and then he looks horrified. “How does it come out?”
Everyone sits in stunned silence for a good thirty seconds.
“Excellent questions,” Mrs. Dawson says, getting up. She goes around the table and takes Jackson from Quinn and goes into the kitchen, saying something about chocolate.
“Really?” Kara whisper-yells at Dean, narrowing her eyes. She shakes her head and grabs her glass of wine, downing the whole thing in one go. The tension between the two of them is tangible, and Quinn is going back and forth between staring daggers at Dean and looking so embarrassed she might cry. Everyone is quiet, and as each s
econd goes by, it’s getting more and more awkward.
“So Archer,” Logan starts, pushing his food around on his plate. “Do doctors really wear Crocs or is that a TV myth?”
“I do in surgery. They’re comfortable and don’t stain easily.”
“Stain?” Jamie asks, looking past Quinn at me. “What are you walking in that’ll stain your shoes?”
“It’s not what I’m walking in. It’s what might leak or splash on me during surgery or when I’m taking care of patients after. The worst I had was a wound drain somehow falling apart and splattering all over me.”
“Gross,” Quinn says, making a face. “How does that not gross you out?”
I shrug. “It just doesn’t. I changed after, of course. Wound drains smell.”
Owen shakes his head. “And I thought cleaning up puke at the bar on Sunday mornings was bad.”
Quinn’s mom and Jackson come back to the table. “Sounds like I’m missing a lovely conversation.” She looks pointedly at the twins. “Though I will admit I was curious about the shoes too. You’re on your feet for so long.”
“What was your longest surgery, Archie?” Mom asks. “Ten hours?”