Page 31 of A Lot Like Lavender

“I didn’t want to be right, Red,” he whispers, fingers still gently stroking Molly’s hair. “I wanted to help. To just be here with you… with you both. I want you to trust me again.”

It feels silly to deny that having Jordan here is a comfort I didn’t expect, but there’s still so much I don’t know. Including whether he’ll actually stick around or whether he’ll break my little girl’s heart and disappear for the next ten years. I don’t ask him any of the questions that seem most pertinent right now, though, and instead blurt out, “Why aren’t you a doctor?”

He adopts a smirk, completely unnatural to him. “I mean, I am a doctor, Emory. Dr. Amor.”

Rolling my eyes, I run my fingers along Pam’s fur, feeling her body miraculously continuing to breathe, though labored and less steady. “I won’t fall for that PTA charm, Jordan. You know what I mean. What happened to med school? Cardiology…? Practicing here in Honey Hill?”

“I couldn’t do it.” He shrugs, though it’s anything but nonchalant. “I was wait-listed before… before James. And after, when I did go, we did an early rotation in a pediatric cardiology wing, and I froze, Red. I couldn’t do it. Looking people—kids—in the eye everyday, studying the intricacies of the organ that keeps them alive and not knowing if I’d be strong enough to lose one… I just couldn’t.”

I don’t know what to say. Because I get it. That frozen,I-don’t-think-I-can-do-thisfeeling. And it makes me immeasurably sad. When I didn’t think I could put one foot in front of the other, I at least had Dinah pushing my butt out of bed, insisting I shower, dress, eat, function. I had a baby who needed her mother. I wonder who, if anyone, did that for Jordan.

“Are you happy with where you ended up?” I feel as if I’m holding my breath. Because even if I have lingering frustration with him, I do want Jordan to be satisfied with his life. “Are you happy working with animals?”

“I’m getting there.” His tender smile brightens his eyes. “I love the animals and the feeling that I might be doing something special for their people. I mean… who wouldn’t want to snuggle puppies and kittens and?—”

“Sit at an alpaca’s deathbed?”

He nods. “Even that. And now that I’m home… well, yeah, I’m grateful for where I ended up.”

“For what it’s worth, I do think you would’ve made a great pediatric cardiologist. You’re good with her. She’s smitten.”

He chuckles softly. “I’msmitten… clearly. She’s so easy and incredibly cool. You’ve done an amazing job with her, Emory.”

“Thanks.” My turn to shrug. “Like you said… she’s easy. Didn’t you ever want to get married? Have kids?”

He sighs. “Um, yeah. I did… I do.” A blush creeps across his cheeks as he looks down at Molly. “I was engaged… back in North Carolina. Her name was Lina.”

Engaged. I’m not sure why, but that stings. Jordan liveda life I know nothing about. He loved someone I know nothing about. “Oh… was?”

“For three months. She didn’t want kids. Or a dog. Or to live in Honey Hill. I thought she’d change her mind. She thought she could be with other men and I wouldn’t find out.”

“I’m sorry, Jordan.”

“Don’t be.” Blowing out a breath, he shakes his head and smiles, finally looking at me, then back to Molly. “She wasn’t the one for me. I thank God it didn’t work out, because it led me back here. Home. And I… I never want to miss another day of this.”

It’s a strange sensation to suddenly want to know every detail and none at all. I’d like to know about this Lina woman. Who she was. Her profession, hobbies, what she and Jordan did together. But in some respects, the details aren’t important. Not anymore. Despite the complicated emotions of having Jordan pop back into my life, he was… and possibly is… my friend. And I hate the idea of him hurting over someone who didn’t care or appreciate him. In fact, I silently say a prayer of thanks that Lina was a fool and her garbage choices led to Jordan’s return.

It hurts, but I’m so grateful he’s here.

“Alliteration is so overrated, don’t you think? I mean… Lina Love?” I blurt, letting my head fall against the wall. “Bleh. It just doesn’t sound good. It never would’ve worked. I think you really dodged a bullet.”

Jordan’s answering chuckle is my unexpected reward.

Molly smiles in her sleep, and we both take a sacred, silent moment to watch her. “When she was a baby, I just stared at her while she slept,” I admit, gazing at her, even now, in complete wonder of the human I still can’t believe I helped create. “For hours and hours I couldn’t look away—didn’t want to—wondering what she was dreaming about… smiling about… feeling. She was so perfect and innocent. And I had this holy responsibility to take care of her. It felt impossible.”

“But you did it.”

I nod. “I did. By God’s grace. But I think I’ve screwed some things up along the way?—”

“You haven’t. You’re perfect, Emory. Exactly what she needs.” He pauses, eyes locked on mine.

I’m not sure how to name what’s happening—what’s happened—in the quiet, secret spaces of my heart tonight. The ones that long to be seen, to be cherished, and yet, are too afraid to be shattered again. But in this moment, I feel seen. By Jordan. By my old friend and, somehow, also my new friend.

Breaking the tension, he clears his throat—another blush blooms under the scruff of his jaw and cheeks—and I’m entirely grateful he does so. My thoughts and emotions are too cloudy to feel so much right now.

“Do you know if… Have you tested her yet?”

“No.” He doesn’t have to elaborate. James died from Brugada syndrome. Something he never knew he had but is highly hereditary. “We can start genetic testing when she goes through puberty, but it’s rare in kids, so I try not to worry. Right now, blissful ignorance is the name of the game. Otherwise, I’d go crazy.”