Him being supportive like that wasn’t something he had been expecting. He figured he wasn’t hiding his fears and frustrations as well as he thought apparently.
It was so much better having someone to share the burden with, to talk about Emma’s health.
There was an instant awareness that went beyond a stranger’s comfort. Then again, was he really a stranger at this point?
When was the last time someone just held his hand to show support, with no expectation of getting anything back?
The sad answer was never.
He looked over at Emma, who was concentrating hard on her game. It was one of the ones he had designed for her. He touched her hair, and she looked up and smiled at him, God, he loved her so much.
She’s so brave. He nibbled on his already tender bottom lip. If only he could swap places with her, he’d do it in a heartbeat if it would save her one second of pain. It just wasn’t fair.
Nathaniel felt Tristan squeeze his hand in a silent show of support, which made him look over at the man, but he was looking straight ahead. He could tell Tristan felt his eyes on him because he tried to take his hand away, but Nathaniel held on tight, not letting him go.
He wasn’t quite sure what was happening, and this was neither the time nor place to figure it out, so he just took comfort in holding hands. It shouldn’t have been a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but for some reason, it felt more intimate than it probably was.
Nathaniel sighed wearily. Get through this, and you can dissect all this when you’re in the privacy of your own home, he told himself.
Finally, the receptionist called Emma’s name, telling them to go on back. Tristan let go of his hand as they stood, and he felt the loss of his hand more acutely than he was willing to admit.
But he shut that shit down and focused on why he was there. Emma. No other reason. He sighed. He couldn’t even lie to himself convincingly, and wasn’t that just a bitch.
Tristan
He’d hesitated briefly before holding Nathaniel’s hand. He wasn’t sure if he should touch him or not. And not just because the gesture screamed overfamiliarity. But because he was feeling things towards him that he so wasn’t allowed to be feeling. He also hadn’t liked seeing the man pull on all that gorgeous hair. That was his job, he thought possessively.
But then it was like he could also feel the man’s brain racing and his agitation rising. So grabbing his hand happened before he even completed the thought process.
He was surprised by how much he didn’t want to let go. Even when he felt his eyes on him, and he refused to meet them. He wasn’t quite sure what Nathaniel would read in his, and he wasn’t sure he could answer the questions he may see if he met the man’s questioning gaze.
They both got up without saying anything to each other, and while Nathaniel shepherded Emma, he followed along behind them. He was aware that by law he should take over decisions for Emma’s care. But he would never do that to Nathaniel. He would never try and disrespect the man’s position in Emma’s life. He acknowledged that he was her father. Same as Tristan was Samantha’s.
There was a sombre note walking into Dr. Prescott office for the adults. He looked over at Emma and realised she wasn’t even scared. He guessed she didn’t understand what was going on, but he also knew it had a lot to do with Nathaniel. She had absolute faith in her daddy that nothing bad would happen to her while he was around.
While they took our seats in the doctor’s office, Nathaniel brought out a juice box and snack for Emma. After wiping her hands he handed them to her and looked at the doctor and said, “That ought to keep her busy.”
Those violet-blue eyes were filled with exhaustion, and behind that, he saw his need for someone to lean on, to stand at his side while he faced the news from the doctor today. A need he knew Nathaniel would rather have his tooth pulled out with no anesthesia than admit to. And Tristan was glad Nathaniel had invited him along and even more grateful he’d said yes.
18
Nathaniel
“So Dr. Prescott, how are Emma’s test results?” he asked.
“Well, she’s not completely jaundiced. But she’s not getting better either,” Dr. Prescott said.
He sucked in a breath. They had hoped that since necrosis and apoptosis weren’t severe, the liver failure could be stopped and reversed.
“We had hoped that her liver enzymes would be looking better today, but unfortunately they just aren’t,” Dr. Prescott added.
“We could keep going with the watch and wait approach. Or we could move forward with our next course of treatment. Normally I would say wait and see, but as we now know from meeting Mr. Callahan, Emma was born a little premature, and although there aren’t any outward signs, I would like to mitigate any stress on her other organs if we can.”
He nodded, but all he heard was his baby had to have surgery. It wasn’t like he didn’t know she might need surgery at some point. He just… he just thought that she won’t have to have… need… Fuck! He was about to lose his shit.
He wanted to run. To get as far away as possible from this situation. To block out the horror. But he couldn’t. He had to be strong. Avoidance never solved anything, and his baby needed him to be strong for her.
He felt Tristan grip his thigh under the table, and somehow that brought him back from his internal freakout.
He looked down, not as surprised this time when he saw Tristan’s hand settled over his where it rested on his leg.
He then heard Tristan ask, “So am I a match then, Dr. Prescott, and yes, you can say everything in front of him.”
“You’re in excellent health, Mr. Callahan, and we already knew from you telling us that you were A positive like Emma here. But like we told you during the first meeting, that’s not all that has to match. Anyways, I’m sure you guys don’t care about the medical jargon, so I’ll just skip over the mumbo jumbo and tell you that yes, you are a match to donate.”
Relief, like he had never felt before, rushed through his body, and he felt and saw Tristan’s body relax as well. He needed no other indication to know he was as relieved as he felt. It didn’t hurt that the man released the death grip he’d had on his thigh. He’d been holding on so tight, Nathaniel felt like blood flow was suspended.
He guessed Tristan was at a loss for words. So, he asked what they were both thinking, “What needs to be done now?”
“Well, we’ll need to schedule the surgery. And like I told you, I need to perform a few more tests once you are both admitted.”
“Also, Mr. Callahan, you will need to let us know what your schedule is like so we can fix a surgery date.”
Tristan finally spoke since getting the news. “I work for myself, so I can accommodate anything. As soon as possible works for me. I don’t want to wait.”
All Tristan could think was Shay’s child, his flesh and blood. He didn’t want to lose her before he even got a chance to know her. He didn’t want to lose her at all.
“Well, like the brochure said, you will need to plan for adequate time off work. And I know you have a child, so you’ll need to sort out childcare. You’ll also want someone to pick you up from the hospital. We usually like to keep you here for at least seven days. We have all your necessary health records and insurance information, so that’s not a problem. But most importantly you’ll need to arrange for the necessary postsurgical care. It will take you at least six to eight weeks of recovery time,” Dr. Prescott informed them.
“That’s all fine. My nanny is going back home after her graduation, but I could probably ask her to move her departure date. If not, my friend’s parents would love to have Samantha and me. It will be fine. I’ll be fine. That’s not a problem,” Tristan replied.
“Or you could stay with us,” he blurted.
“What!? No. No. Uhmm, that’s not necessary. You’ll have Emma to take care of, and there’s Wyatt. Don’t worry it’s fine. Teo’s parents will be thrilled to have concentrated, exclusive Sammy time.�
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He wasn’t sure where the idea had come from, but now that he had it, he knew it was perfect. He could watch Samantha and get to know her while helping Tristan recover. Hell, he could hire a nurse or a whole team of nurses to help out if necessary. It was a perfect idea. He just had to sell it to Tristan.
The doctor went on about all the necessary steps, which he already knew by heart. He was OCD enough to have studied everything that needed knowing about liver transplants in children. He also knew that the hospital's success rate was in the high nineties, or he would have flown his child to a place where he could get those assurances. Dr. Prescott was the best hepatologist on the West Coast.
He looked at his daughter who didn’t have a care in the world. Sure, she was sick, but he had tried his best to keep her life as normal as possible. So she wasn’t even aware of the severity of the discussion or situation.
Right now, he was plotting how to get Tristan in his house, which sounded sinister and borderline stalkerish. But a man’s gotta do what he has to.
As they were wrapping up at the doctor’s, Nathaniel said, “Are you free for dinner tonight? Maybe we can go over some things. You know, figure stuff out?”
“That’s a good idea actually. Would you like to have dinner at my place? I’m sure you want to see Samantha,” Tristan replied. “Six thirty at my place. I’ll text you the address.”
Tristan was about to experience Nathaniel in full persuasive mode. Because even if he didn’t know it yet, they were about to become housemates for at least a short while. There was no way he wasn’t getting his way on that point.
19
Tristan
He had both Lain and Teo on the phone, which was a relief, although it wasn’t hard to catch those two together. They were neighbors and worked together as well. Literally. They bought houses next door. Then again he only lived ten minutes away, and Cristian’s house wasn’t too far from his either. Not that he was there much nowadays. Sometimes he thought, how codependent could they get?
He filled them in on what was going on and the update from the hospital and the plans for his surgery. Before he could even mention going to Teo’s parents, Teo volunteered his house for him and Sammy. Even went as far as suggesting he move in with them while he needed the help since Layla would be away.
“I’m not going to volunteer,” Lain said. “Not that I don’t love you and the little munchkin. But you know that’s not my thing. I’ll organize pick up and drop off. Even hospital stuff to make sure insurance covers everything and all that crap. But sorry, Tris, I’m not playing nurse, even though I know you want me to give you a sponge bath.”
Him and Teo laughed at that because he wasn’t wrong. Lain just wasn’t the touchy-feely, nurturing type.
He thought about dropping into the conversation Nathaniel’s idea of him and Sammy moving in with him while he recuperated. But he didn’t. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe he wanted them to say it was crazy, or maybe he actually wanted them to tell him it was a good idea.
“Anyway, guys, I have to go. Dinner is almost ready, and Nathaniel will be here any second now.”
As expected, Lain and Teo teased him about trying to look hot for him. The shit of it was a part of him wanted Nathaniel to find him attractive.
Before they could get anymore teasing in, he hung up with, “Love you, guys, and I’ll call you later. And let you know how it goes.”
Sighing, he picked Sammy up and got them both looking presentable. He put her at her coloring table while he stirred the spaghetti sauce. Tristan figured Nathaniel would want to spend some time with Sammy, and since his daughter was always up for spaghetti, it seemed the easiest choice.
Why was he even fretting about what he was serving. It wasn’t like it was a date or anything.
He looked around his kitchen, trying to see it through Nathaniel’s eyes. It certainly wasn’t as big as Nathaniel’s, but it was home for them. A part of him wanted him to like the house. He wanted him to see and acknowledge that he was a good dad.
He may not have chosen to become a father like Nathaniel had, but he loved his child, and he was a damn good daddy.
He startled when he heard the doorbell. His daughter ran towards the door shouting Uncle Teo, Uncle Lain, Uncle Cristian. He couldn’t fault her logic. They were his main visitors.
“No, baby, we are having dinner with Mr. Alexander, Nathaniel. Emma’s daddy.”
Tristan smoothed his T-shirt down nervously before finally opening the door. He would never admit it, but he was nervous, and not in the “we are going to talk about surgery and other life and death stuff,” but in the “there’s a cute boy at my door kinda way.”
Nathaniel
He really should have looked at the report on Tristan Callahan, he thought to himself as he pulled into his driveway. Sure, his house wasn’t huge, but it was a Mediterranean-style house that had at the very least four bedrooms. He knew what that went for in the area.
He should have figured the man was doing well for himself when he said he lived in Hidden Hills. But he hadn’t given it much attention besides a passing thought. Why hadn’t he noticed his car when he came over for the playdate? He had a Range Rover SV Autobiography, a Porsche Panamera, and a Lexus LS 500 parked in his drive, and they couldn’t be more than a year old each.
What kind of baker could spend over two hundred grand on his car? he wondered. He had greatly underestimated Tristan, he realised. He clearly wasn’t hurting for money.
That threw his argument on the financial side out of the window. He couldn’t tell him he was trying to help him save money. He needed to regroup and think of another reason to get him and Samantha to his house, he thought as he walked up to the door and rang the bell.
Tristan
“Hi,” he said like an awkward teen.
“Hi,” Nathaniel replied.
“Hi,” Samantha added before it could get awkward between us.
He kneeled down and said, “Hey, princess, don’t you look beautiful today.” His daughter smiled shyly at Nathaniel and said, “Thank you, Emma Daddy.”
God, the man was gorgeously dressed in all black. Especially smiling at his daughter. They looked like mini versions of each other with all the blonde hair and blue-violet eyes. That thought zapped him back to reality real quick.
“Come in,” he told him, leading him to the kitchen. “I made a homemade sauce for the spaghetti. It’s been simmering for a few hours. I’ll just put the noodles on,” he babbled nervously. “It’s one of Sammy’s favorite’s,” he tacked on for no reason.
As nervous as he was, he wanted the night to go well. Okay, it wasn’t a date especially not with his daughter involved, but still.
He couldn’t help but think about his last attempt at dating, and not for nothing. Nathaniel was a better prospect even with the awkwardness of their situation. And didn’t that just say a lot about his dating life?
While he was getting the spaghetti on the stove, he looked over and saw Nathaniel and Sammy at her table. They had their heads together. It looked like she was showing off her pictures. He saw the moment Nathaniel stopped looking at the pictures she’d drawn and started staring at her as she chattered on. The look he had in his eyes while looking at his daughter scared him a little. It was one of ownership.
He shook off that thought as quickly as it came. He knew that no matter what Nathaniel felt for Samantha, he wouldn’t do anything that would make him lose Emma. It was like a weird cold war between them. Neither of them could launch a shot because their arsenals were equally matched. It was, quite literally, mutually assured destruction.
Nathaniel
As Tristan led the way to the kitchen at the back of the house, Nathaniel’s eyes quickly scanned the rooms he passed. He was taking in the comfortable-looking chocolate-brown sofa, the cream side chairs, the light oak coffee table and end tables, the piano, the bookcases overflowing with books.
But the room’s furnishings didn't interest him as much. It was Samantha h
e wanted to see more of. Although he would admit that Tristan had a lovely house with an excellent sense of decor. The house felt warm and welcoming with a laid-back, lived-in vibe.
His daughter, and it was really sinking in that he had another daughter, was a joy. She was well behaved, articulate for her age, and just an all-around delight to be around. He realized that he didn’t love Emma any less, but that he could love both of them without taking anything away from the other.
This was his daughter, he thought. His and Tristan’s, and wasn’t that just the ultimate mind fuck.
Before his mind could wander down that road any more, he heard Tristan say, “What would you like to drink? A glass of wine? Beer? Or I could make you a drink. Let's see, I have scotch and vodka, and a few mixers.”
The man was talking much too fast without taking a breath. He was equal part relieved and amused. At least he wasn’t the only one nervous about being here and amused because he looked cute all flustered.
Tall. Dark-haired. White shirt gleaming against tanned skin. Handsome and athletic enough to make heads turn. He wasn’t quite the boy next door, more the boy next door’s hotter more bangable brother. He had all the swagger and looks of a bad boy. But his personality and character showed him to be a good man.
“I’ll have a glass of wine and then juice at dinner. I have to drive home,” he said to him.
Tristan went to his wine rack and picked out a bottle and then got a glass down. He looked over and said, “Will you open this while I put the food on the table?” He found myself thinking how domestic it all was, and how a stranger looking in would imagine that Nathaniel, Samantha, and Tristan were a normal family.
A Family For Keeps Page 10
