Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
But I do. I don’t remember coming here the night my mother died. I was unconscious. I didn’t know what was happening, but I could imagine it. I envision Dad and Romero racing to get me here.
I remember leaving, though. And I told myself the way people sometimes do in shitty situations that I would never come back here. It’s stupid – I mean, this is a hospital. You can’t guarantee you’ll never have to go to a hospital for the rest of your life, either for yourself or for somebody else. I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.
That may as well have been another lifetime. The building has no power over me now, and neither do the memories.
We come to a stop in the parking lot outside the section of the hospital reserved for maternity. “Did Dad say anything about how she was doing?”
“No — just that it happened all of a sudden and they were getting checked in or whatever.”
“How did he sound?”
“Like a man who’s spent years controlling every part of his life and feels completely helpless and is ready to kick everybody’s ass, but he can’t because they’re helping his wife.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right. But he didn’t say things were bad?“
“No. He was just freaked out because it seemed like she was in a lot of pain.” I’m biting my lip so hard it hurts when I jump out of the car and rush for the doors with Romero on my heels.
It seems like it takes the elevator forever to take us to the correct floor after getting the information from the front desk. My stomach is in knots, and my heart’s racing. Please, God, please let this be okay. Let Bianca be healthy. Let the baby be healthy. Dad has been so happy. It would be too cruel to take all of that away now. No matter what he’s done or how many sins he’s committed, he doesn’t deserve that.
Romero takes my hand as the doors slide open and we emerge, looking up and down the hall. There’s a desk in the center of the floor with a counter running all around it and a handful of nurses seated at computers. “Torrio,” I call out as we jog over. “Can you tell me where Mrs. Torrio is? Which room? Is she in delivery?”
“Tatum.”
The sound of my father‘s voice makes me drop Romero’s hand and run for him. He’s wearing a paper gown – and a huge smile that’s like a pin in the balloon of my dread. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine. They’re doing great.”
“What?” Romero asks. “They? Already?”
“They barely had her in a room by the time he started crowning. He was in a hurry to get here.” Dad throws his arms around me, laughing. “I guess impatience runs in our genes.”
I can hardly believe it. “He’s here? He’s really here?”
“Little Callum.” It’s obvious just saying the name makes Dad proud. “He’s here and as perfect as you were the day you were born.”
I can breathe now.
“Come on. I want to introduce you.” Dad drapes an alarm around my shoulders, and the three of us walk to the room at the end of the hall. In the bed sets Bianca – my best friend, my stepmother – holding a tiny little bundle wearing a blue cap on his little head.
“Hi!” Bianca reaches for me with one hand, beckoning me. “Meet your little brother. Can you believe it? He’s so beautiful. I can’t take my eyes off him. It still doesn’t feel real.”
Beautiful? Beautiful doesn’t begin to describe it. He’s perfect, right down to his button nose and little bow-shaped mouth. A deep, profound love makes my heart swell. I’d kill for this baby. “He’s incredible,” I manage to whisper through the emotion tightening my throat. “You did so well.”
“Didn’t she?” Dad is in heaven, still wearing that same ear-to-ear smile. “And he looks so much like you did as a baby, Tatum. Same nose and everything.”
“Do you want to hold him?” Bianca offers a shy but hopeful smile. “You’re the big sister. You might as well get used to it.”
“Are you kidding? Give me that kid.” The four of us laugh as Bianca holds him out to me, and I take him – carefully, so carefully, until he’s nestled in the crook of my arm.
“Look at his tiny fingernails!” I whisper while Romero leans over from behind me and strokes Callum’s fingers with one of his. Those tiny fingers immediately latch onto his, and something inside me changes. Oh, boy. I cannot wait until it’s our turn.
“He’s got a hell of a grip,” he observes. There’s something different about his voice. It’s softer, almost awed.
“Just like his old man.” Dad settles next to Bianca on the bed and kisses the top of her head. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” she whispers back. “Can you believe it? One minute I’m getting out of bed, thinking I need the bathroom. The next, boom, here’s the baby. At least, that’s how it felt.”