Page 100 of A Really Bad Idea

“And, to think, the man’s afraid of birds,” she jokes, and I let out a cackle-like laugh.

Christian knocks on the door and walks in. My breath hitches at the sight of him. His hands stand out more than they ever have before, as do his lips—his full mouth that can be tender and protective. I never paid so much attention to those features before, and now, I can’t help but warm at the sight. Whatever transpired between us last night has changed me.

Natasha is at his side. It is so bizarre that the woman who was sleeping with him and then tried to bully me into not sleeping with him is now the one tending to my mother.

Christian might be standing next to a beautiful woman he once dated while he’s a few feet away from the woman he stayed with last night, but his focus is on the only woman who matters. With a gentle smile, he gives her a comforting gaze that has me swooning in the corner.

Mom takes the rollers out of her hair and ruffles the top to make it fall with a little volume. She looks as beautiful as ever.

I stand up and move to the window, so Christian can have my mom’s undivided attention.

“We booked the operating room for tomorrow morning,” he says.

“I don’t know if I should be relieved or frightened.” Mom blinks a few times, looking like she wants to cry.

“Relieved,” Christian assures her. “I have to talk to you first about the procedure I want to do.” He pulls a chair up to her bad and takes a seat, so his eyes are level with hers. He grabs her hand, as he knows she likes, and speaks directly to her in a comforting tone, “The valve that is leaking left a hole too large for a standard mitral valve replacement. I want to replace your mitral valve with an aortic valve. You have severe regurgitation, which means the blood is back-flowing into the chamber of the heart. I’m going to enter through your groin, and I’m going to use a mechanical aortic valve.”

“That sounds very cutting edge,” she says warily.

“You’d be one of the first in the world to have it done,” he states. “It’s your best chance.”

Mom looks my way. “What do you think?”

I think it’s a fascinating breakthrough procedure, but I wish it were being performed on anyone but my mom. It’s new, and the research is limited. Still, it’s her only hope.

“If there’s anyone with the finesse and knowledge to perform the procedure, it’s Christian,” I say as I grip my fingers.

“Is it risky?” She turns back to him.

When he nods his head, I want to cry for my mom, who is doing a great job of keeping her strong attitude up.

“It is. It’s also the only solution, and the longer we wait, your heart can become damaged beyond repair or so weakened that surgery will no longer be an option.” With a tender yet serious tone, he tells her, “I’m ready. You’re strong enough to withstand the surgery. Tomorrow we’ll fix you.”

My mother turns back to me with a shaky breath. “Don’t tell your father until he’s back. Let him shower in peace. But I would like you to give your brother a call.”

I nod my head at her request.

I’m not moving right away, so she looks at me for a while and then adds, “I need a minute alone with Christian.”

“Oh. Okay.” I look at the two of them and sense there is something of a personal nature she’d like to discuss.

I head down to the lobby to call Brian. A mixture of relief that she is finally having her surgery is laced with anxiety. It’s good my mom gave me a task because it keeps me focused.

I’m standing under the blue-and-white sign for St. Xavier Hospital, pulling up my brother’s office number, when a burly man with a beard and close-cropped hair walks through the revolving door, getting my attention.

He struts through the lobby and toward the elevator. I call his name before he gets inside.

“Brock.”

He turns at the sound and looks my way. I haven’t seen my ex-husband in a year, and surprisingly, this is the second time in two weeks. To say I’m confused is an understatement.

“What are you doing here?” I ask when he approaches.

He scratches his beard, obviously not prepared to see me standing here, in the lobby. “I stopped at the apartment, and Sal told me I’d find you here. He said your mom is sick.”

“And you thought you’d see her?”

“I wanted to see you.”