This week felt like it’d lasted a year, and I hadn’t even faced the longest part yet—Jackson and me meeting with Cameron’s success story patient.
After Warren and I called off the engagement and ended our relationship, I had my ups and downs. I was grieving the relationship but was confident that it needed to end, and Warren agreed. We had become stale and stagnant in our relationship, the romantic aspect of it anyway. Something was missing, and it had been for a long time. I guess caring for a son with a medical condition while one caretaker was a workaholic was a recipe for disaster.
At one time, the chemistry between Warren and me was fire, but that flame had burned out long ago, and neither of us was prepared to do anything about it until now. We preferred to split amicably than to let our resentments grow into full-blown anger. Remaining friendly was important to me because Jackson didn’t need any undue stress.
Warren left for the airport in an Uber the day before I called to set the appointment to meet Cameron’s patient. Warren wanted to stay for the consult, but in the end, we both determined it was best if he stepped away now rather than involve himself and make it harder to separate after the surgery.
We were both young. He was a very eligible bachelor, and I knew it would be selfish of me to hang onto him when I was no longer in love with him.
By the goodness of his heart, Warren didn’t leave us destitute. So, here I was in the beach house he had rented for an additional week, giving me time to make arrangements for what came next. He was set on ensuring we found a place to live and making sure I had an income. He put me on his company’s payroll, which gave me medical benefits to cover Jackson, and paid me a ridiculous amount of money to transcribe ledgers and prepare notes and things for his weekly meetings.
I was acutely aware that most breakups didn’t happen this way—cushy, remote-work jobs with hefty salaries and benefits packages weren’t typical for broken engagements—and I couldn’t have been more grateful.
A clock was ticking on this beach house, so I perused rental listings in the area, rolling my eyes at the cost of living in Southern California.
I had to find Jackson and me a place to live for under two thousand a month, preferably in a part of town that didn’t take a million miles to commute to the hospital.
Not an easy task, as I was finding out.
This wasn’t going to be easy.
“Are we calling an Uber to get to the hospital?” Jackson asked.
“Already done,” I answered with a confident smile, feeling the best I had since the breakup.
“How much longer are we going to get around in an Uber when we should buy a car, Mom?” Jackson asked. “It’s not very cost-effective.”
“You’re sixteen years old,” I said with a smile. “Stop acting like you’re twenty-five.”
“You’ve always said I act older than my age, and now you’re insulting me for it?”
The one trait you didn’t inherit from your father, the man who forever acts like a big kid, I thought, looking at Jackson and seeing how much he resembled his father.
“It’s not an insult, kid,” I said. “You’ve always kept up with the adult conversations, and sometimes I forget you’re only sixteen.”
“Well, take advantage of my wisdom, then, because I’m pretty sure these Uber fees will add up to more than what Dr. Brandt paid for his Porsche.”
“Don’t worry about buying a car right now, Jacks. First, we need to decide if you will be comfortable with this surgery. After that, depending on your decision, we’ll worry about finding a place to live. Then, finally, we need to decide if you want to stay here and go through rehab or maybe go to Seattle near my parents. Believe it or not, I have given this some thought. I’m not just out here running around, throwing twenty-dollar bills into the wind.”
Moving near my parents in Seattle was not on the top of my list, but I wanted Jackson to have options. This was not about me.
“Okay,” he responded distractedly, grabbing his phone from where it buzzed in his pocket.
I checked the Uber app, seeing our driver was down the street, and I shouldered my purse.
“Jacks, let’s head out.” I shoved the last of my bagel in my mouth and marched up the steps toward the door. “Jackson,” I called again, wondering where the hell my boy went.
“Right behind you,” he said sadly, prompting me to look back and see what had happened.
“Everything okay?” I asked as I shuffled through my purse to find the keys to lock up the place.
“Paige just dumped me. Perfect timing, right? I’m on my way to find out what life will be like after losing half my brain, and she sends me this. So, yeah, everything’s great.”
“Oh, shit,” I said, my heart broken, seeing this look of grief and fear crossing Jackson’s face.
Without warning, I reached out and hugged my son.
“Mom, don’t,” he said, standing there rigidly as I clung to him. “I’m fine. I really don’t care.”
I stepped back and studied his bright blue eyes, “Saying you don’t care just means that you—”
“Mom,” he said, cutting me off. “Let’s just go. I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll be fine. Can we please meet with this Lisa girl and hear more about this surgery? Please?”
His eyes pleaded with me, and I knew it was best to shut my mouth and go with the flow for now. I wasn’t going to try and play mother protector of the year because I could feel my fears growing the closer we got to meeting this girl.
We sat in the car and drove in silence. I didn’t know what to say anymore. I was scared as shit, realizing this surgery was a reality. It wasn’t some abstract conversation anymore. It was real, and someone who’d gone through it wanted to tell us what we could expect.
Reality was a bitch, and she was breathing down my neck.
I wanted to text Warren like I would’ve before, just to get some reassurance, but that wasn’t exactly an option anymore. I hated that I’d come to depend on that man’s strength after all these years.
I knew the only way to gain confidence was to embrace my fears and these uncomfortable, scary moments. I didn’t have a partner to bolster me anymore, which was okay. I didn’t need anyone for that. I had to be strong again. The tests of faith were coming, and I had to be ready.
Once we reached our destination, I inhaled a breath of confidence and stepped out of the car.
“Well, where to go now?” I said, scrolling through my emails and trying to find the one that detailed this meeting.
“Fifth floor, consultation room B,” Jackson said.
“How the hell do you remember every damn thing?” I questioned with a smile, feeling nervous with each step toward the hospital.
Something told me that I would hate this place soon enough, that I would associate it with Jacks’s surgery and all the worries that went along with it.
I shook my head briskly, expelling these negative thoughts from my mind.
“Dr. Brandt, you’re needed in OR-3. Dr. Brandt to OR-3, please,” the intercom announced over the hospital speakers. It didn’t take much to figure out that Cameron wouldn’t be joining us for this consult.
That was fine. I didn’t need the distraction of the man’s looks right now. Something told me that I was a little weak in the emotional department and that all it would take was Cam’s charming smile for me to melt.
That was definitely something that did not need to happen. Though, if I were honest with myself, I would’ve enjoyed seeing him.
“This way, Mom,” Jacks directed while I worked to keep up with my kid’s long strides.
“This hospital is lovely,” I said, seeing the technology that was integrated into the large pillars but somehow not standing out so boldly.
The place was bright and airy, welcoming in every sense of the word. There were tall windows placed strategically throughout to show the weeping willow trees, fountains, ponds, and every neatly manicured part of the hospital grounds outside. It was peaceful and serene, and I felt my smile grow wide, feeling more confident.
Perhaps that’s why this hospital was built this way, to breathe hope and confidence into anyone who walked through those doors. I knew I needed it, and it was certainly working on me.
We walked through double glass doors that automatically opened as we stepped toward them. A young man was sitting at the receptionist’s desk amongst three young women, whose laughs were silenced as we walked in.
I grinned. “Hi, I’m Jessica Stein, and this is my son, Jackson. We’re here to meet with Dr. Brandt and Lisa Jameson?”
“Dr. Brandt was called into surgery moments ago,” the young man said, bringing his attention to his computer screen. “One moment while I look to see if we will be rescheduling your appointment.”
I stepped back and looked at Jackson, who flashed his handsome smile at the younger blonde woman sitting next to the man helping us.
By the look on her face, specifically the flush in her cheeks, it was obvious that my son had the same effect on women that his father did.
“Ms. Stein?” the young man said after making a quick phone call as he clicked through screens on his computer monitor.
“Yes,” I stepped back up to the white marble counter.
“Okay, we’ll have you back in a moment. Dr. Palmer will be assisting in Dr. Brandt’s place. If you’ll follow me,” he rose, took off his headset, and walked around his desk. “I’ll take you to her.”
I pursed my lips and shrugged at Jackson, realizing that having a different doctor was probably for the best—for me, hormone-wise.
“Right this way,” the young man guided, motioning toward an open door to our left.
My eyes widened as we entered. The meticulously neat office space was every bit the Cameron that I knew and remembered loving so deeply. When we lived together for a short time in college, I got to experience the neat and tidy—to a fault—side of Cam. Some of his habits had permanently rubbed off on me, but I never got quite there with how painstakingly clean the man could be.
A pretty blonde woman sat behind a desk, taking a call. Her stethoscope hung around her neck and lay on her lab coat, leading me to assume this was Dr. Palmer. She looked over and made a motion for us to come in.
“If you’ll have a seat,” the young man advised while Dr. Palmer smiled and gave us a thumbs up. “Dr. Palmer will be right with you.”
“Thanks, Manuel,” I said, finally noticing the young man’s nametag.
“My pleasure,” he smiled, then dismissed himself, closing the door behind him.
“Great, and then we’ll go ahead with those assessments. I’m confident that before you move forward, Dr. Brandt will want to review these images.” Dr. Palmer said with a knowing laugh. “Yes, right. Okay, I’ll see you this afternoon, and I’ll let Dr. Brandt know that we’ll meet in conference room ten with the family. Perfect. Sure. Okay, goodbye.”
She hung up the phone and rose, walking briskly around the large walnut desk, prompting Jackson and me to stand.
“Hi, there. I’m Dr. Palmer, and it’s very nice to meet you both,” she said sweetly, extending her hand to shake mine and then Jackson’s. “Dr. Brandt wanted me to extend his apologies for not being here. He was unexpectedly called to assist in emergency surgery.”
“I hope everything is okay. We heard the hospital page him over the intercom when we got here,” I said, a bit worried that since Cam was a pediatric specialist, something must’ve gone wrong with a child.
“Everything will be fine,” Dr. Palmer reassured us. “Now, I’m quite excited to be the one to introduce both of you to our sweet little Lisa.” She smiled, and I could tell she was raptly changing the subject. “I think you will marvel at her strength, tenacity, and positivity. She is an amazing young woman.” She glanced down at her delicate, gold wristwatch. “But before we meet with her in a couple of minutes, do you have any questions for me? Again, Dr. Brandt is sorry he isn’t here, but let’s face it, he’s a bit boring, anyway.” She flashed a charming, mischievous smile, prompting a laugh from Jackson.
“We really don’t have any questions,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll think of them at the worst possible time, like while Lisa is telling us about her successes in recovery.”
“Always,” Dr. Palmer grinned.
Out of nowhere, I felt a twinge of jealousy, wondering if this beautiful doctor and my ex-boyfriend—the player from hell—had ever engaged in a relationship.
God help me. This was not the time or place for this utter nonsense. Jealousy was the ugliest emotion and even uglier when it wasn’t warranted. Yet, here I sat, sizing up this perfectly lovely, charming woman who was only doing her job. A job that she no doubt busted her ass to get.
I needed to get a grip. I shook the green-eyed monster off my shoulder and decided I would blame my momentary lapse in sanity on memories conjured by Cameron’s pristine office.
Yeah. That was it.
