Archer plants his hands on either side of my waist. “I know there’s a stigma against gaining weight and not having perfect skin, but I love you, Quinn. And if you get stretch marks from carrying our daughter, I’ll look at them and remember everything you went through in order to bring me Emma.”
My eyes well with tears and I can’t find any words to say. Besides, if I opened my mouth, sobs would probably come out instead.
“Any man who finds his girlfriend or wife or whatever less attractive because she bears the marks of pregnancy and birth is a fucking asshole.” He slides his hands to my ass. “Yes, I very much enjoy how you look right now, but I know what your body goes through during pregnancy. Your organs shift around. Getting stretch marks is the least of it.”
I blink back tears and straddle Archer’s lap, hoping he doesn’t make a move. I want to be close to him, but I’m not in the mood for sex. Which is nothing against him, but we’ve made love a lot on this vacation. My lady bits need a break. “You do have an appreciation for the arrangement of organs.”
“I do. Probably more than the average person.” He looks up at me, eyes a little glossy. “I’ve cut open a lot of people and have seen their insides. And it still blows my mind that something so incredible can grow inside of you.”
I smile. “Out of context, that would be a very strange sentence.”
He laughs. “A lot of what is said among surgeons sounds very bad out of context. Also, if you knew how small your uterus was before you got pregnant, you’d be amazed at what it holds at the end. It fits in your hand when there’s no baby inside.”
I make a face. “I never thought I’d date someone weirder than me, but I think you fit the bill.”
Archer laughs. “But I’m weird in a sexy way, right?”
“Oh, for sure.” I run my hands through his hair. As much as I want to go whale watching, snuggling in bed while he rubs my back is tempting too. “And you can lie and tell me I am.”
“I always knew I’d end up with someone who loved robot fights, computer codes, and cats.”
“Damn. You set the bar high.”
Archer laughs and nuzzles his head in between my breasts. Shit. I think he’s going to want to have sex. I don’t understand how he has the stamina for it all the time. I love him with all my heart, but I’m tired, dammit.
“Would you think it was lame if we ordered room service and crashed after whale watching?” Archer asks.
“Hell no. That’s my kind of night.”
He tightens his grip on me. “I knew there was a reason I fell for you.”
“Do you want to go for one last walk on the beach?”
I just sat down in bed and don’t feel like getting up, but the look in Archer’s eye can’t be described as anything else but romantic.
“Yeah,” I tell him and get up. “Should I change?” I’m still in the dress I wore earlier, and my hair is in a messy bun on the top of my head.
“No, that’s perfect. You might want to bring a sweater.” He smiles and rolls his eyes. “Only you would be cold on a tropical island.”
“The night air has a bit of a chill to it. I was expecting it to be super humid all the time here.”
Archer looks at me as if I’m crazy. “It is humid here.”
“Not really.”
“Have we been on the same vacation?”
I laugh. “I guess I’m comparing it to Disney World in the summer. That’s brutal.”
“I was thinking about that the other day, actually.”
“About Disney?”
“Yeah. You said you wanted to take Emma for her first vacation. Maybe can go for her birthday.”
I smile so big my face hurts. “That would be so fun!” I go into the bathroom to pee and brush my hair. I grab my sweater on the way out and walk close to Archer as we go down to the main lobby.
“Looks like someone is having fun,” I say, looking at a group of girls stumbling about.
“A little too much,” Archer notes, frowning when he sees them.
“Is Dr. Fuddy-Duddy coming back out?”
“He never went away.” Archer takes my hand again and pulls me close. “You like him, don’t lie.”
“The responsible side of you is attractive, I’ll readily admit it.”
He goes in to kiss me and someone screams. I jerk up, looking at the source of the scream. One of the drunk girls has collapsed and is convulsing on the floor. Archer lets go of me and rushes over. I stand there in shock for a few seconds and then notice the bleeding. The girl hit her head on the way down.
Things happen in a blur after that: someone from the hotel says they’re calling an ambulance, and Archer works on stopping the bleeding and attending to the seizing. He’s focused, fully aware how dire the situation is, but isn’t scared.
He’s in the zone, and this is his element.
I force myself over, asking what I can do to help. Archer says there’s not much we can do other than keep her stable until the EMT’s arrive to take her to the hospital. And he does just that, and as I stand there watching him take care of a perfect stranger, I know without a doubt he has to take that fellowship.
25
Archer
I lean back in the uncomfortable airport seat, watching our bags while Quinn goes to the bathroom. We’re headed back to reality, and something seems different between us. As much as I want to deny it, I know what it is. After taking care of that drunk girl last night, Quinn told me I need to take the fellowship. She said she can see that trauma and life-or-death situations are what I’m made for, and I can’t disagree.
But I should. Because as much as I want to take the fellowship, it feels wrong telling her I’ll reply with my acceptance as soon as we get back. Yeah…I want to be a trauma surgeon, but it’s not like settling for general surgery is the shitty consolation prize. She’s so encouraging and optimistic, hinting even that she’d move to Boston so we can be together. I want nothing more than to be with Quinn, but I know she’ll hate it up east with me.
I’d be at work more than I’d be at home. She’d be alone most of the time with a newborn. She wouldn’t have any friends to hang out with. Family wouldn’t be nearby to help with Emma or give her a much-needed break.
She’s resent me in the end, and nothing is worth that.
If I do go through with accepting the fellowship, the best thing to do would be for her to stay in Chicago and for me to go, and for us to try and maintain a long-distance relationship until I’m done.
It’s a good thing I didn’t propose, right?
I let out a sigh and turn my head down, not knowing what the fuck I’m doing. Neither is a bad option: take the fellowship or find a job in Chicago so I can be with Quinn and my daughter. But one is so much better than the other.
“Tired?” Quinn’s voice comes from behind me, startling me a bit.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Me too. It’s kind of funny how all that beach relaxing wasn’t as restful as I thought it’d be.”
I turn my head up and smile. “Being out in the heat wears you down. And we spent a lot of our sleep time having sex.”
“I believe that was mostly your doing.”
“You’re just as much to blame here, missy.”
Quinn laughs and my heart aches at the thought of not being able to hear that in person. And—fuck—I’ll be hours away around the time she has to give birth. If I’m in the middle of a long shift, I can’t just leave and hop on the first plane I can to the Midwest.
She rests her head on my shoulder. “We have the plane ride to sleep. Well, you can sleep at least. I’ll probably be awake the whole time, which is okay. I’ve loaded up my Kindle and I’m ready to dive into this paranormal series I’ve been wanting to read for years.”
“Years?”
“I wait until at least three books are out in a series to start reading. Cliffhangers give me literal anxiety.”
I laugh and slip my arm around her, glancing up at the clock. Our plane
is on time today, and we’ll be boarding soon.
“Have you heard anything from your parents about Bobby?” she asks.
“Nope. No news is usually good news. I’ll be generous and give him a few weeks before he fucks up again.”
Quinn frowns. “You don’t think he’ll recover?”
“He doesn’t want to recover.”
“Oh, right. I guess you can’t force it on him.”
I shake my head. My parents have tried many times and it hasn’t worked. Life isn’t like a book or a movie. Not everyone gets a happily ever after or even an epic exit scene. Some people coexist with the rest of the world, functioning on a level of minimum survival, living for themselves and not caring what the fuck they do to other people.
That’s Bobby.
“Do you have to write a formal letter or anything to let the fellowship people know you’ve accepted?” Quinn asks as she picks off her nail polish.
“No. I basically need to reply and say I’ll be there.”
“You should do it then,” she encourages. “You’re going to be great, you know.”
I smile, but it feels forced. “Yeah. I know I’ll enjoy it.” I enjoy general surgery too. And I enjoy being with her even more.
“The two years will be rough.” She takes my hand. “But we’ll make it work.”
Before I can say anything, we’re called to line up to board. Quinn gathers her stuff and I grab her carry-on as well as my own. We’re walking up when her phone rings, and she digs it out of her purse and answers. It’s loud at the moment, and she steps away to hear better. She comes back right in time to hand the attendant her ticket.