I shake my head. “And Bram is still here? With that blonde Swedish thing?”
“Ha,” she says. “She lasted two minutes and made Bram drive her to her friend’s place. Not that I blame her. I am surprised Bram came back, though. I’m going to see if he can drive me and Linden home and then come back for you guys.”
“No,” I say quickly, not wanting to have anyone else do anything special for me. “That’s okay, I’ll cab it.”
“Nicola,” she warns, pausing at the door. “Money spent on cab is better spent on your daughter. Besides, he has your car seat. I’m sure it will be fine. Call me in the morning, okay, sweetie, and send Ava my love. I’ll come by and bring her something nice and the two of us can go over the medication again. I’ll take you to Target. I’m sure they have good deals at their pharmacy. If they don’t, we can at least pick up some cheap beer.”
After the door closes behind her, I feel the coldness of the room and fragility of the night. I’m eternally grateful that Steph was here, but now that I’m alone with Ava, I feel like I can finally be myself and feel the feelings I buried deep during the night.
Only the tears don’t come. Nothing does. I’m either in shock or just too tired to take in the enormity and futility of the situation—this damn, horrible situation.
It’s around 3am when the nurse comes in, checks on Ava and with a big smile, tells me it’s time to go home. She unhooks her from the IV and I put her back in her clothes, her dress already cleaned by the kind nurse.
I gather Ava in my arms, holding her up and in a slumber state she wraps her own little arms around my neck. I take a long moment to just breathe and let my heart swell.
When I step out and walk down the halls, I’m shocked to see Bram sitting in the waiting room. He’s sleeping in his chair, but he’s there when he has no reason to be.
I take a moment to stare at him. His legs are stretched in front of him, still in that same slick suit from earlier, though now I notice he has the world’s ugliest socks on. It actually throws me off a little – they are brown and yellow with what looks like the Loch Ness monster on them and totally don’t jive with his expensive suit (Armani, by the looks of it) or the fact that he’s in his mid-thirties. His head is back, his thick throat exposed, his eyes closed. He looks like he’d be in the throes of ecstasy if it weren’t for the fact that I can hear him snoring lightly.
I go over to him and peer down at his face. I’ve never really stared at him like this before since I never wanted him to catch me looking – his ego might chalk it up to something more than it is.
Though, I guess, he has a right to be impressed with himself. It’s a good face. Dark, arched brows, that firm and wide jawline, perfect lips that stretch into the perfect grin, sly grey eyes that always seem on the verge of telling you a secret but don’t just to toy with you. He’s like a big cat, a very, very big one.
But big cats are dangerous and so are playboys. I straighten up and clear my throat.
His eyes snap open and he blinks a few times at me. “What time is it?” He looks at Ava. “She’s okay?”
My mouth twists. “She’s okay for the moment.” I pause. “I’m sorry you had to wait. I was happy taking a cab.”
“Hey, my sister-in-law asked me to drive you home and I’d do anything for family,” he says, getting to his feet. “I’m glad your little one is okay, though.”
I nod, unable to say more. We leave the ER and go to his car in one of the lots. Once Ava is all strapped in and we’re on the road, I want to thank him for the ride but everything is caught in my throat.
“Are you okay?” Bram asks as I repeatedly clear my throat.
“Thank you for driving me,” I manage to say, my voice nothing more than a whisper.
“No worries,” he says. His expression turns grave in the passing lights. “But are you okay?”
I nod again, trying to give him a reassuring smile, but the pressure behind my eyes and nose builds and I feel everything crumbling down from the inside out. I look away out the window, and for the second time in two days, I know I’m going to completely lose it.
The tears come first, then the sobs that squeeze the breath out of my lungs. I want to cry just for the fact that I’m crying in front of Bram of all people, someone I barely know. But I’m really crying for the hopelessness, the frustration, that never-ending feeling of why me? A pity party, I know. I have them all the time. Except now I feel fear for myself, for Ava, more than pity. Fear that I won’t be able to get through it without majorly overhauling my life.
Bram doesn’t say anything, which I guess is good. He just ignores me and I hope he can pretend I’m not there. He keeps driving.
And then I start talking. The moment I open my mouth, I know it’s a mistake, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
“I got fired yesterday,” I say in between sobs. “A week away from my health insurance kicking in. My rent went up in my shitty, fucking apartment. My car doesn’t work. Now Ava’s sick. She’s really sick, and I have no idea how I’m going to pay for anything, how I’m going to help her get better, how I’m going to be a good mom. A good mom would have her life together but I don’t have anything. I’m just…useless. I can’t keep a job. I got an education in something passionate, not practical. I have nothing going for me but her and I don’t know how I’ll even keep her alive. I mean, I didn’t ask for this responsibility, I didn’t ask for it. But I promised I would take care of her and it’s like the world is testing me every moment it gets.” I pause and try to think of something positive to stop the tears, but there is nothing. “The insulin will cost me $300 a month. How can I pay for that when I could barely pay my rent before, let alone now without a job?”