Chapter 25

She lifts her head from his lap at the surgeon’s approach. She feels more than hears Sid’s quick intake of breath and knows that he is doing the same thing she is, trying to read the man’s expression, body language, to get some clue, any clue before he actually speaks. She half expected there to be blood on his scrubs but can’t decide if she is relieved because there is none or not, after all, how much blood can there be in the body of a four pound five ounce baby boy?

“Mr and Mrs Crosby?” he asks and she nods before Sid can object, pushing up on his powerful thighs and wiping at her eyes. What they are or are not is hardly important right now. The man smiles and a shudder wracks her tired body, relief flooding her system. “The surgery to close the ductus arteriosis was successful, and he’s back in the NICU now. You can go up and see him if you like.” She hears Sidney let out the breath he’s been holding since the man walked through the doors and feels his hand squeeze hers’. She squeezes back and starts to get up. 

“What’s his recovery time?” Sid asks and she turns to glare at him, glad the doctor was leaving and ready to put the whole frightening night behind them. 

“It varies from one child to the next but it’s a very straight forward procedure, as we explained to you and probably in a few days he’ll be catching up with everything,” the surgeon replies with a smile, reaching up to pull the blue cap from his greying hair. “They’ll be monitoring his blood pressure a little more closely for a few days, but other than that, things will be much as they were. The nurses will be keeping an eye on his temperature and oxygen levels.” She waits for him to add that it will be touch and go or that they are far from out of the woods or something else equally vague but ominous but the surgeon just gives his best McDreamy smile and turns and heads away from them.

“That’s good,” Sidney says sounding definite. She looks over at him and finds herself smiling. It’s good not to be alone in this. She leans over and wraps her arms around his neck. He looks over at, startled and she grins.

“Thank you,” she sighs and then presses her lips gently against his. 

“What for?” he asks, his caramel coloured eyes searching hers’. 

“If I’d had to sit here by myself and waited all that time...,” she shakes her head. It isn’t worth thinking about. She is grateful and more certain of him than she has ever been. 

“I told you we’re in this together,” he tells her without hesitation, his arms circling her waist as he pulls her onto his lap. She glances surreptitiously around them but they are alone, apart from an old woman with her head bent over her knitting and her middle aged daughter who has been pacing the waiting room for longer than they have been here. She has the urge, as she turns her gaze back to meet his to tell them that he doesn’t have to be but that argument dies on her tongue as he leans his forehead to meet with hers’ and stares deeply into her eyes. “When are you going to believe me?” he asks, sounding genuinely hurt. She shrugs and lets him cradle her against his chest. 

“I’m too tired to argue now,” she yawns and closes her eyes. 

“Mmm, about that,” he begins slowly, brushing her temple with his soft lips, “you were discharged this morning. I guess we should be thinking about a hotel room...or umm...rooms.” 

“Hotel? My parents live five minutes away,” she replies immediately and then presses her lips together and tries not to laugh when she remembers how her father reacted upon meeting him. “On second thought...you probably don’t want to do that,” she adds with a smile, unable to picture Sidney in her parent’s modest suburban bungalow.  

“Actually that sounds like a good idea,” he says, surprising her. “I bet your parents would be glad to see you. They didn’t get much of a visit earlier and I’m sure they’ll want an update on Simon.” 

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He feels badly, making her mother run around like a frightened hen, clucking and flapping her arms excitedly as she tries to come up with some place other than the couch for him to sleep. He does not presume that he will share the twin bed in her small bedroom. They spent the night in a cramped hospital bed and he would gladly do it again, though his back and neck might complain, but he will not assume that she is eager to do so. After all, she had escaped as soon as she could. 

That thought turns his mind to his son. He feels a sort of tug, a dull ache in his chest that he defines as guilt at being away from his son’s side. It feels strange, unnatural. The only thing that eases his conscious is he knows that she feels is too. He sees it in the way she glances towards the door and up at the decorative clock on her parents’ mantel. 

They are nice people, normal people. They are clearly worried for their daughter but are too polite to say so in front of him though her father continues to be stiff and formal with him. He does his best to be the polite and respectful man his mother raised him to be and the supportive partner he wants to be as he keeps hold of her hand. 

“It’s just for tonight,” he tells her mother as she reappears with a folded comforter and a pillow piled on top.

“If he can’t be transferred to Children’s in Pittsburgh I’ll make other arrangements tomorrow,” he promises.

“Oh it’s no trouble I just...,” she glances at her daughter who rolls her eyes and looks away, “we don’t have a lot of room,” she replies though it’s clear from the confused look she gives her daughter that she expected them to share a room and a bed. He does not press the point. There have been enormous strides taken in their relationship and he will not chance chasing her away again. 

“And I appreciate your making room for me tonight Mrs. Smith,” he says softly as he takes the burden from her, aiming a genuinely warm smile at her at the same time. She looks like an older version of her daughter but a version to whom life has not been entirely kind. He vows that Fern will not look the same when their son graduates college. She bobs her head and with another curious look at her daughter disappears down the hallway to the master suite and closes the door behind her. 

“You make her nervous but I think she likes you,” Fern smirks, giving him a nudge. 

“I feel bad,” he admits, keeping his voice low as he takes the quilt and pillow into what was likely a spare room but has been made into a sort of study but not like the one that Mario has in the big house in Sewickley.

“Don’t. My mom likes to fuss. It’s her thing,” Fern muses as she leans in the doorway. “I’m sorry...Sidney Crosby on a camp bed...I’m the one who feels bad,” she snorts and when he turns to look at her she’s barely containing a giggle behind her hand. 

“I think you’re enjoying this,” he tells her honestly, placing the pillow on the end of the cot and unfolding the quilt. She chuckles and holds up her hand, thumb and forefinger held about an inch apart. “Well get your jollies now, tomorrow it’ll be back to luxury suites and California King sized beds,” he promises, reaching for her and sliding his arms around her waist. 

“Jordan told me you have a single bed above Mario’s garage, is that the one you’re talking about?” she teases. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “I think the only luxury you’re getting until we can bring him home is a lot of painting and a late night or two putting together some nursery furniture,” she threatens with a smile. 

“I’m sure I can call someone to do that,” he tells her, knowing her answer before she says it. 

“I don’t think you get dad points for having people do that for you,” she points out with a smirk that he has the strongest urge to kiss off her face. 

“I didn’t know there were ‘dad points’,” he queries, nuzzling her neck which makes her squirm but his hold on her is secure.

“Yeah well there is and you’ve missed out on earning a bunch so you’d better get caught up,” she squeaks as he nips playfully at her earlobe.   

“Well I can think of a way to start making those up,” he whispers in her ear. A bark of laughter is not the reaction that he expects but it’s what he gets as she struggles to get free of his grasp on her. Backing up from she shakes her head. 

“I think you’ve done enough damage, don’t you?” she asks, both of her palms pressed against the middle of his chest. Before he can pout she presses her lips softly against his and slides her arms up to encircle his neck. “Goodnight Sidney,” she whispers and then with a quick, soft peck to his cheek she disappears down the hallway and pulls her bedroom door shut behind her. 

He stares after her, perplexed and maybe more than just a little exasperated at being shot down. Shaking his head he closes the door to the study and steps out of his suit pants, carefully folding them and putting them on the back of a nearby chair followed by his rumpled dress shirt wishing that he could just stop at Walmart for jeans like everyone else. 

Slipping under the quilt he stares up at the ceiling in the dark and makes a mental note to have clothes sent out if they cannot have Simon transferred. Then, as he lies there in the dark, one arm behind his head, he begins to make a mental list of all of the things that will need to be done in the house, things that need to be bought and wonders to himself if Vero is ready to put together a baby shower for Fern or if he should ask Carole-Lyne.

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She lies alone in the dark and stares at the wall that separates them. It has been a strange few days she decides with a sigh, a few hours that have changed her life in ways that she knows that can’t yet wrap her mind around. 

She feels different she thinks as she rolls onto her back and closes her eyes, making a mental tally of the little aches and pains. Her breasts are heavy and feel full and her back and hips still hurt but it isn’t just the physical changes that have her staring at the ceiling, unable to sink into the oblivion of sleep. 

There is her son, small and helpless that incubator, now miles away. She feels each and every one of those miles like a fishing lure in her heart, tugging on an invisible line. 

His is not the only line, nor the only hook in her heart. What a difference a few hours can make, she thinks as she pictures the other invisible line tugging on heart leading through the bricks and mortar to the man in the next room. When she thinks of him she feels not only a tug on her heart but on her lips. She can barely contain a grin as she feels a warm glow spread through her chest. 

A little voice in the back of her head tells her that she should beware, but where that voice was once too loud to ignore it is now barely above a whisper and easily brushed off with hardly a second thought. He has buoyed her though the last day, made her feel safe and most importantly kept her together when she felt the earth slipping from beneath her feet. Just when she’d been so sure that he was none of the things she had dreamed he would be, he is becoming all of the those things and more. 

Throwing her quilt aside, she gets to her feet and pads silently across the cold floor. Careful to open her door slowly lest it squeak she slips out into the hallway and very slowly turns the handle on the door to her father’s study. 

His eyes flick towards the shaft of light the moment she pushes the door open. He watches her walk across the floor and then dubiously down at her hand when she offers it to him. He opens his mouth to ask something but a swift shake of her head and a press of her finger tip to her lips in a plea for silence keeps him mute. 

Once his hand slides into hers’ she leads him silently back to her room and closes the door behind them. He slides into her bed behind her and fits his body neatly into hers. She closes her eyes and moans into her pillow when he presses a series of warm, wet kisses to the nape of her neck and down over her shoulder. But when he slides his fingers beneath the strap of her tank top she freezes.

“Sidney...uh...just...can you just hold me?” She knows without turning to look that he is contemplating asking the question and she grinds her teeth together. She didn’t know. There is no reason that he would. 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh and tucks her body into his, wrapping his arms around her. 

“I would,” she tells him very quietly, making a face as she forces herself to explain, “but I can’t...not for a while.” He does not reply, not immediately, but she can practically hear him thinking. 

“Oh,” he says suddenly and then again, more quietly, “oohhh.” 

“I know it’s...gross but...it’ll give us time to get to know each other and...I’d like that,” she whispers, holding herself very still as she waits for his reply. 

“Yeah,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder “yeah, good idea.”