- Text Size +
Chapter 187

“Brings back the good old days, doesn’t it?” Claire smiled wryly, looking around the waiting room the following morning.

Nick just grimaced in return. She had been taking him down memory lane a lot lately, reminiscing on the “good old days,” as she so sarcastically put it, as if they actually held fond memories. He did experience a sense of déjà vu, though, in the form of the nervousness he always felt when sitting in a hospital waiting room. But he had to admit, having her there to joke around did help a little. It had helped a little back then, too.

He had awoken to the sound of her voice earlier that morning, after groggily flipping his ringing phone open, still half-asleep. “Did you call that doctor yet, Carter?” God, she could be bossy when she wanted to be. He decided later that all women must be born with the nagging gene, and pregnancy activated it. She was gonna make a great mom, had that tone of voice and everything.

After croaking that he would do so as soon as he woke up, Nick had forced himself to get up, hobble downstairs, and find the number for his pulmonologist while a pot of coffee boiled. He had expected to have to use his famous name to pull some strings and get an appointment, knowing it was short notice, but the gods must have been smiling on him (or winking at Claire, probably) that day because Dr. Mahmood’s secretary told him that there had been a cancellation and that the doctor would be able to see him that morning if he came to her office at Tampa General.

The window of opportunity was so short that Nick hardly had time to shower and dress himself, let alone give Claire time to get ready before he picked her up, but somehow, they’d done it, and here they were, a whole five minutes early.

Claire shifted in her seat, smoothing the hem of her blouse over her jeans. The black babydoll top, even with its loose material, was not enough to completely hide the belly she had left over from her pregnancy, and he could tell she was self-conscious. He still thought she looked great in it. Sure, she had baby weight left to lose; she was heavier all around, her face fuller, hips wider, more meat on her upper arms and thighs, but in a way, the look suited her. It added curves to her figure, and he found it hard to keep his eyes from sneaking down to her rather “enhanced” breasts when he was looking at her. He tried to resist the temptation, though, knowing she could catch it and call him on it for sure. She wasn’t bad to look at from the neck up, anyway. Even her hair seemed thicker, shinier. He took a moment to admire it, remembering how she’d had none back in the “good old days.” He was glad it was back now. She had pretty hair; it added a lot to her appearance.

Claire wasn’t looking at him anymore, but almost as if she could sense his eyes on her, she reached up and raked her fingers through the short red locks, tucking them behind her ear. “They need a poster about BOOP in here,” she commented out of nowhere, staring across the room at a framed informational poster about organ donation. “You know, like a cartoon of Betty Boop hacking up a lung, with ‘B.O.O.P.’ in ginormous letters above her head and then what it actually stands for in tiny, tiny print below.”

Nick laughed at the visual. “Why?”

“’Cause… it’d be funnier than organ donation,” she shrugged, gesturing to the poster, which showed a child’s face in black and white next to the caption ‘I want to live every second. Not fight for every breath. I urgently need a lung transplant.’

“Yeah,” agreed Nick, “that one’s kind of a downer.” She was nervous, he realized suddenly. Cracking jokes, playing with her clothes and her hair… Nervous habits. It was a sign of how well he’d come to know her that he recognized them. Back in the days when they had sat around waiting for their oncology appointments together, he had never dreamed she could be nervous. Cool, calm, collected Claire – she could make anything into a joke. He had only realized later that, much like AJ, this was her defense mechanism, a cover-up for nerves and insecurities. She got nervous just like he did. She was just better at hiding it.

The fact that she was nervous for him today didn’t make him feel any less so. He hated being here, worrying, as he’d worried so many times before, that some small symptom was going to be an indicator of a much more significant problem, something that would turn his whole life upside down again. It had happened too often in the last six years. A minor fracture became bone cancer; aches and pains meant a relapse, stopped only by the amputation of his leg. A cold turned to a lung tumor, the flu to BOOP, and here he was now, with shortness of breath that could be a sign of any number of horrific possibilities.

By the time a nurse called him back to an exam room, he was thoroughly freaking out, if only on the inside. When the nurse took his pulse and told him that his heart rate was a little fast, he didn’t even stop to consider that it might be due to a combination of caffeine and nerves. Of course his heart was racing; so was his brain. Was it the BOOP’s turn to relapse now? Or, worse yet, had a tiny piece of the lung tumor that had nearly killed him four years ago gone unremoved, undetected, and slowly regenerated into another?

“Nick, chill,” said Claire, one corner of her mouth curving into a crooked smile, once the nurse had left the room. If he could tell that she was nervous, she could most definitely tell he was. “It’s just a check-up… just so you can prove yourself right that you are, in fact, one-hundred percent fine and that I’m just a huge worrywart.”

“I know,” he mumbled and rolled his eyes, pretending to be exasperated at her for dragging him here. Knowing her, she saw right through it. She was doing it again, joking around, and suddenly it wasn’t helping anymore. He just wished Dr. Mahmood would hurry up and get in here so he could get this over with.

***

As they sat in the exam room waiting for the pulmonologist to return with test results, Claire kept stealing sidelong glances at Nick. He had been unusually jittery the whole appointment, and she knew he was nervous. Whether he had any real reason to be, neither of them were sure.

Dr. Mahmood’s expression hadn’t given away much as she’d listened to his lungs, had him breathe into a device that measured his lung capacity and function, and sent him for a chest x-ray. She had promised to put a rush on the results, knowing he was due to leave town the next day and couldn’t wait, and now here they sat, waiting to see whether or not there was anything to worry about with Nick.

Frankly, Claire hoped she was just being a worrywart. For once in her life, she wanted Nick to be able to say “I told you so!” and rub it in her face and tease her about being a nag for the rest of her existence. She prayed that’s all it was, because God knew Nick had already been through too much. He didn’t need one more medical problem – or a recurrence of one of the former ones – to deal with now.

“God, I hate waiting,” Nick groaned, dragging his fingers down his face so that his features were gruesomely distorted.

“I know,” murmured Claire with a patience she didn’t feel. She reached out and patted his knee, the only part of him she could really reach from her seat. “She’ll be back soon. It can’t take them that long to develop and read an x-ray. If she did put a rush on it, it’s gotta be ready by now.”

Nick nodded, and they fell back into silence as they continued to wait.

Bored, Claire eyed the door to their room, and when it didn’t open, she sidled over to the counter of supplies on the other side of the room and snagged a latex glove from one of the boxes on the counter. She felt Nick’s eyes on her as she took it back to her chair. Winking, she stuck the open end in her mouth and started to blow, inflating the glove into a hand-shaped balloon. Nick’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she pinched the end tight between her fingers, flashed a devilish smile, and let it go.

The “balloon” squealed as it flew across the room, zigzagging and loop-de-looping in mid-air. A girlish laugh burst out of her, and despite his nervousness, Nick cracked up too, as the deflated glove finally fell limp against the floor.

“Jesus, you’re worse than I am,” Nick teased her, grinning.

“Kid at heart,” Claire grinned back. “I’m a pro with latex gloves – one of the perks of having a dentist for a dad. He used to sneak boxes of ‘em home for me to use as water balloons.” She had fond memories of water balloon fights with her brother and the neighbor kids, armed with heaps of the oddly-shaped, white water bombs.

“That sounds like fun. Brian and I used to make ‘em out of condoms when we were touring. We’d pelt ‘em at Kevin and Howie as soon as they got off the bus.” Nick snorted at his own memories. “They’d get so pissed… God, it was great.”

Claire laughed, imagining the look on Kevin’s face when he realized he’d just been hit with a water-filled condom thrown by a teenage Nick. “Sounds like something AJ would do, use condoms as water balloons.”

Nick’s face gleamed with mischief. “Yeah, well… they were his condoms.”

He was still snickering when the door suddenly opened, and Dr. Mahmood came in. Instantly, his face straightened, but Claire had to cover her mouth to stifle back a giggle as she eyed the random glove lying on the floor across the room. She wasn’t sure why it was so funny; maybe it was because it was such an inappropriate time to laugh. It made her want to bust out laughing even more.

The compulsion quickly left her as Dr. Mahmood started to talk. “Nick, everything looks and sounds all right. Your chest x-ray didn’t show anything that has me concerned. You do have some scar tissue built up from surgery and the BOOP, and that could be affecting your lung function enough that you’re getting out of breath more quickly than you used to. Unfortunately, there’s not much that can be done about it. I am going to write you a prescription for an inhaler; it might help to use it during or after your concerts. The medication inside will open up your lungs more and make it easier for you to breathe, just like it would in a person with asthma.”

Nick nodded, and Claire could see the relief spreading over his face. She was sure he was thinking the same thing she was. An inhaler? What a simple solution. She was glad that’s all he needed, that for once his symptoms weren’t a sign of something that would need a much more unpleasant treatment.

They thanked Nick’s doctor profusely and left the hospital with a prescription for an inhaler to fill, which they did on the way back to Claire’s condo. “I’ve never used one of these things before,” he remarked as they sat at a red light, turning the inhaler over in his hand.

“Me neither, but they must not be hard to get used to – plenty of kids with asthma have them.”

“True.”

The light changed, and he sped up again, turning left at the next intersection.

***

When they got back to the condo, Claire said, “You’re going to come up, aren’t you, and see the twins?”

“Absolutely,” agreed Nick, turning off the ignition. “I can’t wait to see them. Last time I did, they were still in the NICU.”

An emotional smile crossed Claire’s face. “They’ve changed a lot already since then.”

“I bet they have.” He certainly hoped they were less fragile and scary-looking now. Still, as he followed Claire up to the sixth floor of the condominium, he had no idea what to expect.

The first thing he noticed when she opened the door to let them in was the smell. The condo had long since lost its “clean, new place” smell, taking on, instead, the familiar aroma he associated with Claire – her shampoo, her lotion, the detergent she used on her laundry, her scented candles, and a hint of the orange cleaning spray she used to wipe down everything. But the smell was different now, camouflaged by an odor his nose recognized only as “baby.” It was the smell of wipes and powder, which only made him think of dirty diapers. With four younger siblings and a godson, Nick would never forget that odor.

“How many diapers do you go through in a week with twins?” he asked Claire casually as he walked in, trying to adjust to this new assault on his senses.

She laughed. “Ohh, you don’t wanna know. I’ll show you their room – the size of the Luvs box in there should give you a clue. We buy ‘em in bulk.”

But she didn’t take him to the twins’ nursery right away. Instead, they walked through the kitchen and into the living room, where they found both of her parents. Each of them, Nick saw, was holding a baby.

“Well, that was perfect timing,” said Kris cheerfully, smiling up at his daughter. “Your mom was just talking about warming up bottles for the girls; they’re starting to get hungry.”

“I figured,” Claire replied. “Don’t worry about the bottles; since I’m here, I’ll nurse them.”

“The appointment didn’t take as long as you thought it might,” spoke up Carrie, looking between Claire and Nick. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yep. He’s fine.” Claire’s hand swatted Nick playfully across the chest. “I’m just a worrywart… you’re not gonna let me forget it either, are you?” she added, turning to stick her tongue out at him.

He grinned back. “Eh, I won’t hold it against you… moms are supposed to worry, right?”

“Exactly,” stressed Carrie, amusement twinkling in her eyes as she looked from him back to Claire. “She won’t be able to tease me about being overprotective anymore, now that she knows what it’s like to worry about her children.”

Claire rolled her eyes, but underneath the sarcastic expression, she was beaming. “Okay, stop teasing me and hand me one of my kids. Nick needs to be properly introduced. He hasn’t seen them outside of an incubator yet.”

Carrie passed the baby in her arms to Claire, who turned to show Nick. “This here is Cait,” she said, stroking the baby’s head, which sported a fine layer of light, reddish-colored hair.

“She’s gonna have your hair, isn’t she?” he observed, smiling. Now that she was in her mother’s arms and not tangled in a mass of tubes in the hospital, Caitlin looked bigger than he remembered, albeit smaller than he expected babies to be. She was less red and shriveled too, though she still had the slightly shrunken, wrinkled look of a preemie.

“Yep, it looks like it. It could always lighten to more of a strawberry blonde as she gets older, though; I’ve seen that happen. Or she might be a ginger kid the rest of her life. Poor thing,” Claire teased.

“Aww, hey, I love your hair,” Nick replied kindly, reaching to give it a playful tug. “Does she have your eyes too?” He looked down at the baby again; her eyes were open and, indeed, they were blue.

“Could be. I’m betting they’ll stay blue, ‘cause Jamie has blue eyes too. Lainey’s eyes look the same, but her hair is darker.”

She handed Cait back to her mother and took the other infant from her father. Delaine was just a little smaller than Caitlin, and her hair was indeed noticeably darker. Jamie’s hair, thought Nick. He didn’t scowl, though, because Delaine was too beautiful. She was still wrinkled and drawn, like her twin, but looked much healthier than she had in the hospital, sick and jaundiced as she had been.

“They’re both beautiful,” he told Claire with a smile, and she glowed with pride.

“Thank you. They had a rough start, but they’re both gonna turn out just fine. I didn’t tell you, but they had a check-up on Tuesday, and the tests they did on Lainey showed that the blood vessel in her heart that was open is already starting to close. They’ve had her on medication to help with that since the second week, and it’s working, which means she probably won’t need surgery to fix it.”

“That’s awesome news,” said Nick, who remembered Claire telling him about the heart defect Delaine had been born with on top of everything else. She had said it was a common complication in premature babies, but still, it sounded scary, and he was relieved to know she wouldn’t have to deal with the stress of having her new baby operated on. He put his hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, as he gazed down at the baby she was cradling.

This could have been mine, the thought occurred to him. My baby. Had he and Claire actually gotten married, had they gone through with the same fertility treatments she and Jamie had used to get pregnant, he would have been father to Delaine and Caitlin. Maybe not biologically, but legally and in every other sense, they would have been born his children. It was a strange realization, and it made him feel somehow even closer to the tiny twins, knowing that, had circumstances been different, he would have viewed them as his own daughters.

As it was, they were more like… goddaughters, he decided. Not officially – he wasn’t sure if they would even have godparents – but that was how he felt about them, the same way he felt about his true godson, Baylee, and even Kevin’s son Brayden. He vowed that he would do anything to look out for them, and for Claire.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Caitlin started to cry, and, as if on cue, Delaine quickly joined in.

“Oops – definitely feeding time,” said Claire, eyes widening. “Hey Dad, can you grab the nursing pillow? It’s in my room.”

Kris got up from his chair and disappeared into the master bedroom, while Claire went to sit next to her mom on the couch, holding a screaming Delaine in her lap. Nick was amazed at how much noise such a small person could make. Over the crying, Claire called, “Nick, take a load off,” and gestured for him to find a seat.

When Kris came back, carrying a large, C-shaped pillow, he looked at Nick sitting down and stopped dead in his tracks in the center of the living room. Turning his gaze upon his daughter, he said, “You’re doing this out here?” His head turned ever so slightly back to Nick, with what was obviously a meaningful look.

Nick, too, suddenly clued into the fact that she was getting ready to breastfeed right in front of him and couldn’t help but feel awkward, especially at her dad’s apparent disapproval. Claire, on the other hand, appeared completely unfazed. “Yeah, so?” she replied. Looking around him to Nick, she asked, “It’s not a big deal, is it? I mean, it’s nothing you haven’t-”

“-Seen before, I know,” Nick finished for her quickly, feeling his face redden. He supposed it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but the fact that she was still, technically, someone else’s wife and that her parents were right there in the room with them made it uncomfortable. He wasn’t about to tell her that though, and be left making small talk with her parents while she took the babies into her room to do it, so he didn’t say anything else.

“Exactly,” said Claire casually, and like a pro, she handed Delaine off to her mother, so that Carrie was now holding both her granddaughters, one in each arm, and took what was apparently known as a nursing pillow from her father. The pillow fit nicely across her lap, wrapping around her waist like a large, cushy donut. Impressed by this simple, yet ingenious design, Nick inadvertently forgot to look away, and a second later she was pushing up the bottom of her black top, revealing – thank god – a white bra. At that point, he did look away… looked around the room, at the TV, out the window, into the dining room, pretty much any place he could look without accidentally setting eyes on her again. He didn’t want her dad to think he was a total perv, watching his married daughter breastfeed.

He heard some movement, and within a couple of minutes, the babies’ crying stopped. Unable to contain his curiosity, he chanced a quick glance back at Claire, almost out of the corner of his eye. She had a baby tucked under each arm, both supported by the large pillow and apparently latched onto a breast, though a combination of their heads and her shirt hid this from view. Thank god, thought Nick, stifling a groan, feeling that it was okay to include her in his line of sight again. At least she had some modesty, with her parents around.

“Lainey’s getting better at this,” Claire murmured quietly, softly stroking the darker haired baby’s head. She suddenly winced. “And Cait… yeesh. Caitlin takes after me; she’s a good eater. It’s amazing how hard the kid can clamp down with no teeth.”

Nick cringed, his own nipples actually seeming to ache at that comment, and he couldn’t help but look over at Kris, who gave him the same look in return – a knowing look that seemed to say, Yes, this is as uncomfortable for me as it is for you. Nick smiled awkwardly, feeling a sense of camaraderie with the older man. Neither of them knew or cared to know what it was like to nurse a baby, and neither of them really wanted to be there to witness Claire doing it, but they were both there anyway because they both loved her. It was more than Nick could say about Jamie, he thought with some satisfaction. If Jamie was around to help Claire out the way he should have been, none of them would need to be there.

When Claire finished nursing, she said, “They’re gonna be ready for naps here in a minute, but do you want to hold one first, Nick?”

Caught off-guard, Nick faltered, “Uh… sure! Yeah!” He got up from his chair, but Claire pointed him in the direction of the kitchen.

“Just wash your hands first, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh yeah… ‘course. No problem.” He went to the sink and took his time, making sure he washed his hands carefully. He didn’t want to risk passing on any dangerous germs.

When he came back, Carrie got up from her spot on the couch and said, “Here, we’ll trade places – come sit by Claire, Nick.” She took his chair, and he sat down in the warm spot next to Claire on the couch. While he was washing his hands, she had set the nursing pillow aside and pulled her shirt back down, and now she was simply holding a baby in each arm.

“You wanna take Delaine?” she offered, as Delaine was in the arm closest to him.

“Okay…” Looking over at the baby, he was suddenly uncertain. She looked so small and fragile; what if he did something wrong and hurt her? He racked his brain, thinking quickly back to the days when he had been big brother to new babies – BJ, Leslie, and finally Angel and Aaron. He had held all of them as newborns, even BJ (kind of – there were pictures of the two of them with her sort of propped in his lap, anyway), and never done any permanent damage. All he had to do was remember to support the head, right?

“Don’t look so nervous,” Claire laughed, though her smile was understanding. “Here… just kinda cup your hand under her head for now, until you get her situated, and then you can let it rest in the crook of your arm. Don’t worry… she may be tiny, but she’s my little fighter. She won’t break.”

Nick appreciated her confidence in him. Smiling back, he helped her ease Delaine from her arms into his. The transition was smoother than he had anticipated; he was afraid the baby might start to cry, but she didn’t. She just looked up at him through half-closed, sleepy eyes, smacking the lips of her tiny mouth a little in a satisfied way. Nick adjusted her so that she was nestled in the crook of his arm. She was almost too small, but she was warm and snuggly, and just the weight of her tiny body against his bare arm made him smile. She was precious.

I could get used to this, he thought, grinning down at her. He hoped that one day he would have the chance to get used to it, that he would one day have a baby of his own to hold and feed, even diaper. It was a scary thought, but surely, he would get used to it.

“Claire, I’m going to grab your camera,” Carrie said quietly after a few minutes, standing up. “This will make a cute picture.” She disappeared and returned a moment later with a digital camera, and soon Nick was smiling into it, still holding Delaine, while Claire sat beside him, holding Caitlin. “Very cute,” Carrie gushed, smiling as she pressed a button to view the picture.

“Hang on, I’ll look at it in a minute. I think it’s time to put them down; Cait’s almost asleep,” said Claire. Turning to Nick, she asked, “You wanna carry Lainey back and help me put them to bed?”

“Uh, su-”

Nick was about to say “sure” when Carrie jumped in. “Oh, honey, I’ll get her! Don’t make Nick carry her.” Looking at Nick, she added, “I would think it’d be harder to stay steady on your feet with a load in your arms.”

Nick realized what she was worried about at the same time Claire did. “Mom,” said Claire warningly, “you’re being overprotective again. She doesn’t even weigh four pounds; he’s not going to drop her. Or trip.” She met Nick’s eyes on the last word and must have seen the panic there. What if he did stumble while carrying her baby? It was a horrible thought, one he probably would not have even considered until her mom had said something. But he knew she had a point…

And yet, Claire, the one who was supposed to be the most protective, seemed to trust him. She had spoken firmly, and the look in her eyes conveyed that trust. There was a fierceness to it, perhaps inspired by her mother’s doubt. She wanted him to prove Carrie wrong.

“Come on, Nick,” she said, and she stood up. Holding Caitlin in one arm, she offered her free hand to him, and he made sure Delaine was secured safely in his other arm before he took it, allowing her to help him up from the couch. He walked more carefully than ever as he followed her slowly back to the master bedroom, holding Delaine tightly and looking down at the floor with each step forward on his artificial leg to make sure its toe did not catch and trip him up.

His caution paid off, or maybe it was not really needed in the first place. In a few moments, he was gently lowering Delaine into one of the two bassinets that had been placed in Claire’s bedroom. Then he stood back to watch as she positioned the two babies on their backs and hooked them both up to what she explained were the apnea monitors. Each consisted of special belt that strapped across the baby’s chest and was wired to a small box. She also had to fit Delaine with her CPAP machine, a horrible-looking, hose-like contraption that went over her nose and sent oxygen into her air passages to keep them open. It made the poor baby look like she’d been crossed with some sort of robotic elephant, and the sight nearly broke Nick’s heart. Naively, he’d expected the babies to be “okay” now that they were out of the hospital – still a little small, sure, but healthy. Now it occurred to him that Claire’s worries for their health were far from over.

She seemed to be taking it well, now that she had a few weeks’ experience under her belt and was stronger and less hormonal. She bent and kissed Delaine gently on the head, as if the machine were not even there, then did the same to Caitlin. The groggy babies had already drifted off to sleep by the time she and Nick left the room.

Right outside the door, she stopped him and touched his forearm. “Listen… don’t ever doubt yourself around my kids. My mom may freak out over nothing, but I trust you. You’re such an important person in my life… I want you to be that for them too.”

Nick allowed himself to smile, feeling a peaceful warmness spreading through him. “Thanks… that means a lot to me.”

Claire returned the smile and gave him a one-armed hug. “Well, it means a lot to me to have you here, even if it’s just for a couple of days,” she replied, and rested her head briefly on his shoulder before she straightened.

There was no more contact between them as they walked back out to the living room, but Nick still felt warm all the way through.

***