Hate to Love Page 21

  ********

  "He's hurt," I say, looking toward Mrs. Livingston. "He got hurt."

  She nods sadly.

  "I know. It happened in the game last night. Kilmer attacked him. Hit him hard. It was obviously pre-meditated."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "You bristle every time I dare to mention his name, and you said you didn't want to watch the game. I didn't want to push you."

  I'd gone back and forth about watching the playoff game with her the night before. Finally, I decided I couldn't do it, and went back to my apartment to soak in a long bath instead. I couldn't bring myself to smash Rubber Duckie back on the same wall where I found him, so he hangs by two plastic clothespins from the retractable clothesline that crosses the top of the shower. We've had a long, albeit one-sided, conversation about my plans to eventually get in touch with Shane. At the very least, I told him, I needed to tell him to stop paying my rent and give him the ultrasound picture from last week. My third-trimester exhaustion had made me drift off to sleep early on in the night.

  "You should have told me he got hurt," I say. "I might not have wanted to watch him play, but you should have told me something happened to him."

  "I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't think you would care."

  "How could it possibly not matter to me?" I asked, instinctively pressing my hands to both sides of my belly. "This isn't just a bruise or a broken bone. It sounds serious."

  "Julie, I want you think about what you're doing right now."

  "What do you mean? I don't even know what I'm doing right now."

  "Exactly. You've avoided talking about Shane since the first day you came back. You told me you don't know how to move forward with him, but by the way you’re acting right now, it seems you don't know how to move forward without him."

  I know she's right. My reaction doesn't make any sense. I'm in a panic now that I know he’s hurt, and that goes completely against everything I thought I felt about him and the future of our relationship.

  "I don't know what to do."

  "I think you do."

  "You're the one who told me to be careful, and not let myself get too invested in Shane."

  "That was before, when there was still a chance you could keep your relationship professional. It was before you fell in love with him. Before he fell in love with you. That was a completely different situation."

  "But when I first told you about him, you told me that people change."

  "And you thought I meant for the worse."

  I immediately realize what she's been trying to tell me. When she first said it, I thought she was talking about Shane's friendship with my brother and how it ended so abruptly. Now I know that's not what she meant. People do change, but they can change for the better. Both of us have changed – for each other.

  "I need to go," I say.

  I scramble to my feet as quickly as Bump will allow and push my feet into my shoes.

  "Do you want me to drive you?"

  I realize my hands are trembling, and I nod.

  "Yes, please."

  She stands and grabs her keys.

  "Let's go."

  ********

  It takes almost an hour to get through the gridlocked traffic to the hospital. I've never seen so many news vans crushed into one area before. As we make our way past the collection of reporters, I notice bloggers and sportscasters crowded behind them. Fans wearing replicas of Shane's jersey group as close to the barriers as they can. My stomach feels sick when I realize that they're holding a vigil.

  We finally make it to the parking deck and rush into the hospital. A few people look like they want to turn us away, but their eyes drift down to my belly, and they let me go through. I know they think I'm there because I'm in labor, and at this point, I'm willing to let them. When we get to the Intensive Care Unit, a nurse finally stops us.

  "The maternity ward is in a different building," she says.

  "I know,” I say. “I'm not here because of the baby."

  "Why are you here?" she asks.

  "I need to see Shane Lawson."

  "That's his baby she's carrying around in there," Mrs. Livingston pointed out, pressing a finger to my belly.

  The nurse seems to think about this revelation for a few seconds, then looks nervously behind herself before looking back at me.

  "No one is permitted in the room," she says. "You can go as far as the waiting room, but that's it. There are several people here already that are claiming to know him, and we've been asked not to allow anyone else inside."

  "Thank you," I say as she opens the door and lets me slip past. I look back over my shoulder and see that Mrs. Livingston isn't following me.

  "Aren't you coming?" I ask.

  "I'll just wait out here," she says. "I don't want to get involved in all that, and this is something I think you should do on your own."

  I nod and rush toward the waiting room. I'll find a way to get into that room. No matter what they say.

  I haven't taken more than a few steps into the room when I feel anger burst through me so intensely I stop in my tracks. My eyes burn into the back of the head I would recognize anywhere. Vanessa is draped over a chair, her hands covering her face as she lets out big, dramatic sobs. I walk up to her in two long strides. This bitch.

  "Get the fuck out of here," I growl.

  She looks up, and I immediately notice there are no tears on her face.

  "Excuse me?" she asks, seemingly appalled I would dare speak to her.

  "I don't think this needs any explanation."

  "You're the one who needs to leave," she says, pressing her hand to her chest in a performance that would at least get her an honorable mention at an awards show. "The love of my life in there, and I refuse to leave him. Shane needs me."

  "The love of your life?" I scoff.

  "Yes. Shane and I are back together, and deeply committed to each other."

  "Bullshit. I'm only going to tell you one more time. Get the fuck out of here."

  "Who do you think you are telling me what to do at all?"

  "You know exactly who I am."

  A security guard walks up to me.

  "Is there a problem here?" he asks.

  "Yes," I say, pointing at Vanessa. "She needs to not be here."

  "Why does she get to tell me if I'm allowed to be in a public place or not?" Vanessa asks, batting her eyelashes.

  "You know Shane Lawson is here, right?” I asked the security guard.

  "Of course, I do. That's why I'm here. I'm trying to keep the crowds back."

  "Then you must know who this is," I gesture toward Vanessa.

  His eyes narrow as if he hadn't noticed she was sitting there. I don't know how, considering the display she was putting on when I first came into the waiting room.

  "You're that girl who said he pushed you around," the guard says.

  Vanessa sputters for a few seconds, but I cut her off.

  "Which is why it's very clear she has no right to be here. Shane wouldn't want her here, and I definitely don't."

  "Nobody cares what you want," Vanessa finally snaps.

  I look at the guard again.

  "Do you know who I am?" I ask.

  "I'm sorry, no."

  "That's alright. Most people don't. But Shane does." I rest my hand on Bump. "This is his baby."

  "Are you Julie Jacobs?"

  I look toward the voice and see a doctor who just walked out of the back of the unit.

  "Yes," I say, taking a step toward him.

  "You can come with me."

  "What?"

  "When Shane was brought in here, he was still conscious. Barely, but conscious. He said your name. His coach told me your full name and said if you ever came, to bring you to Shane immediately."

  I can hear Vanessa gasp beside me.

  "Thank you," I say, then turn to the guard. "Get her out of here, please."

  He nods and looks down at Vanessa, his face stern. Finally, she mak
es a disgusted sound and stands. The guard walks after her as she flounces out of the waiting room. I wait until she's disappeared down the hallway before I turn back to the doctor and follow him into the unit and Shane's room. My heart nearly stops in my chest when I see him lying there, tubes and wires linking him to machines on either side of the bed.

  "You can stay in here as long as you want," the doctor says.

  "Does he know I'm here?" I ask.

  "Nobody knows," he admits. "But I believe he can hear you. I think he can sense your presence. Sit with him. Talk to him. You never know. It could help."

  "Is he going to be alright?" I ask.

  I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

  "It's too early to really tell," the doctor says. "But Shane is healthy and strong. He was in the absolute peak physical shape when this happened. That gives athletes the best chances of recovery. I've seen it before. Don't lose hope."

  The doctor offers me a smile, then walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. I settle into the chair beside the bed and reach for Shane's hand. I lean down, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

  "Shane. I'm here. And this time, I promise, I’m not going anywhere."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Shane

  One week later…

  "They say he looks really good. They can't really tell yet, of course, because it's still a few months out, but they think he might be big. Just like his daddy."

  I hear Julie's voice before I open my eyes. It sounds like it's trembling slightly, but she's talking casually like we're having dinner together or something.

  "I've been thinking about names. I haven't really chosen one yet. It's a lot of responsibility, you know? People talk about baby names all the time like it's the most fun thing in the world – like you’re naming a goldfish or a hamster. Not that I had either one of them growing up, but it's the same idea. They don't know if their name is stupid. They don't know if you came up with it because you were drunk, or you used a dartboard or picked it randomly. I haven't done any of those things, by the way."

  I can't believe I'm listening to her talk about our son. Our son. My son. I can't wrap my head around it. It's been months since she told me about the baby, but this makes it so much more real. She's carrying my little boy, and now she's trying to figure out what we’ll name him.

  "Naming a baby is so much bigger than that. This is the name he's going to have with him his entire life. I mean, I suppose he could have a nickname or just choose something else for people to call him, but that's not always going to work. Any time he has to fill out a form, or apply for a job, or introduce himself in professional or formal capacity, he's going to have to use the name we picked for him. That name is going to be the first thing a lot of people know about him. I suppose he could change it when he turns 18, but that's a lot of hassle to go through. I don't want to put him through that, and what if I didn't even remember his new name and kept calling him by his old name. That's just setting us up for some serious family tension. I don't want to deal with it."

  "What about Out?" I say.

  My voice sounds scratchy and low, and my throat is raw. I can only imagine I've just recently been liberated from a tube of some kind.

  My eyes flutter open, and I see her for the first time since Christmas. The months have been kind to her and her swelling belly. Now I know it's a baby boy growing in there, and I want to reach out and touch her. Her eyes suddenly snap to me as if it just occurred to her I was speaking.

  "What?" she asks in a trembling voice. "Did you just say something?"

  "I said 'what about Out'?"

  "Out what?"

  "For his name."

  She looks at me like she thinks I shook a few pieces of my brain loose and the doctors didn't put them back.

  "No."

  "Why not? Then we could call him Outlaw Son."

  Julie's tear-reddened eyes narrow at me, and her pouty pink lips purse together.

  "I can't believe you're here," I say.

  "I've been here since the day after you got hurt," she tells me. "Mrs. Livingston brought me clothes and has supplied me with an endless stream of food."

  She gestures to the table beside the bed, and I notice a variety of plastic and glass food containers spread across it.

  "They've let you stay?"

  "They couldn't have made me leave," I say. "Well, they probably could have. But, yes, they've let me stay."

  "How long have I been here?"

  "A week. The doctor said you've been making incredible improvements. They took you off the medication two days ago, and off your ventilator yesterday. They told me it could take until tomorrow for you to wake up, though."

  "I needed to be here with you," I say. "I couldn't wait to see your face again."

  Julie laughs, but new tears spill down her face.

  "I've been waiting to see your eyes," she says. "I've been sitting here talking to you all day, every day. I hope that somewhere in there you knew I was here."

  "I think I did," I say.

  "Mr. Slidell will be really happy to hear you're doing better," she says. "He gave me emergency leave, so I could be here with you."

  "I'm glad. Are you enjoying being back?"

  The conversation seems strange, but I want to keep talking. I want to hear her voice.

  "It's not nearly as exciting as it used to be," she says. "I still love the work, but I don't think anyone will ever compare to my first client."

  I laugh, wincing slightly at the pain in my throat.

  "I certainly hope not," I say. I tighten my grip around her hand. "Julie, there's something I need to –"

  "Shane, I love you," she interrupts.

  "What?" I ask.

  "I love you, Shane Lawson. I didn't know it then, but I think I've loved you since the time you sat in my apartment and ate pizza and became besties with my elderly neighbor."

  "Gloria's the best," I agree, and Julie laughs. We fall silent for a few seconds, staring at each other. "I love you, too," I finally say. "I love you, Julie Jacobs.”

  "Really?" she asks.

  "I want to try to make this work with you, Julie. Just the two of us. That future you were planning for us. I was planning it, too. There's something I want to ask you, but I can't right now. This isn't the right time or place. For now, I'll ask this. Can we try this? Can we do this together?"

  Julie rises up her chair and leans over to kiss me.

  "Yes," she says softly.

  Three months later…

  When I was finally discharged after my injury, I decided I never wanted to see the inside of a hospital again. Now that I'm here, I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else. Now it's my turn to stand by the side of the bed and hold Julie's hand. She squeezes back until her fingernails bite into my skin, but she's amazingly quiet and focused. I've spent the last three months of her pregnancy preparing myself for the type of labor and delivery I've seen in countless movies. I knew everything would seem fine, then suddenly, her water would break, and all hell would break loose. We'd end up in a brightly lit room with her screaming obscenities and doctors running around.

  Instead, she had a craving for pineapple pizza, and we ordered delivery then sat in bed, eating and watching TV. An hour later, she thought her stomach wasn't reacting well to the pizza and laid down. Soon after, she realized she was having contractions. We came back to Virginia a month ago, so she'd be close to the doctor she originally wanted to deliver the baby. It took us less than an hour to get to the hospital. Since then, she's been incredibly calm, and I haven't heard a single obscenity fly out of her mouth.

  I admit I might be slightly disappointed in the lack of theatrics.

  Suddenly her hand squeezes mine even tighter, and she takes in a gasping breath.

  "Alright, Julie," the doctor says from down near her feet. "I think this is it. Get ready to push."

  I look down into Julie's face, and she smiles at me.

  Another contraction hits, and she dr
aws in a sharp breath. I hold her hand firmly, wanting to lend her whatever strength and support I can. It seems like both hours and seconds pass before she takes another deep breath and pushes, and I hear the doctor's voice call out to me.

  "Look down here, Mr. Lawson," she says. "Watch your baby be born."

  Seeing my son in the doctor’s hands is unlike anything I could ever have imagined. I'm breathless, and I can't speak. He does it all for me, though. His tiny voice bursts out into the room as the doctor sweeps him forward to place him on Julie's chest. A nurse steps up to wipe him off, and put a little hat on his head, but all I can see is his face.

  "He's here," I whisper to Julie.

  Tears glide down her cheeks as she nods.

  "I can't believe it," she says.

  I kiss his head, then lean down to kiss her.

  "We're just going to take him for a second," one of the nurses says. "We're going to weigh in and get him a little cleaned up for you, but he'll be right back."

  A few minutes later I walk out into the waiting room. Joe and Gloria are sitting side-by-side, seemingly engrossed in something on the tablet he holds between them. He glances up and sees me, climbing to his feet.

  "He's here," I say. "Seven pounds, eleven ounces, nineteen inches long."

  Gloria rushes forward and I hug her.

  "That's wonderful," she says.

  "Thank you so much for being here, Gloria. I know it means the world to Julie."

  "You know I wouldn't have missed this baby coming for the world. How's Julie?"

  "She did great. I've never seen anything like it. She was so in control. She seriously kicked labor's ass. "

  Joe laughs.

  "That sounds just like her."

  Gloria's eyes light up.

  "I'm going to run down to the gift shop and get one of those bouquets of blue carnations."

  "I should be able to bring you two back in just a few minutes. They're moving them into another room right now."

  Gloria smiles and rushes out of the waiting room. I turn to Joe and see him grinning through the sparkle of tears in his eyes. This must mean so much to him. It's been just Julie and him for so long, and now their family is expanding. He put so much of himself into raising Julie when she was younger and making sure she could stay at home.