Chapter 45

Ardal

The sterile white walls of Dr. Jack Rayburn's office do little to calm my nerves. I sit beside Erbao, clutching his small hand in my own, as the doctor reviews the latest test results.

With five six year-olds - four of them boys - we seem to go from one accident or disaster to the next, and Dr. Rayburn knows my quints very well at this point. I’m still touched by Kadeem rescuing poor Milo today. That was one disaster averted, but here we are now.

This time, it’s for Erbao, who hasn’t been looking well the last couple of days. I called this afternoon to get him in for a quicker appointment, and Dr. Rayburn squeezed him in immediately.

"His kidney function has declined another ten percent." Dr. Rayburn's normally cheerful tone is grim. "If we don't act soon, renal failure is a very real possibility."

My stomach twists into knots. I glance at Erbao, taking in his pale complexion and the dark circles under his eyes.

"We have two options." The doctor steeples his fingers, ice-blue eyes meeting mine. "Dialysis to support his kidneys as long as possible, or a transplant."

"A transplant?" I whisper. Bile rises in the back of my throat.

"Finding a donor match for a child his age will be difficult." Dr. Rayburn's gaze is soft with sympathy. "But you're a likely match, as his biological mother. A living donor transplant from you would give Erbao the best chance at a long, healthy life."

My heart slams against my ribs. A transplant. Surgery. The risks flickered through my mind like a reel of film set on fast-forward.

Erbao tugs on my hand, blinking up at me with wide, trusting eyes. The eyes that are so like his father's. "Will I get better, Mommy?"

I pull him into my arms, pressing a fierce kiss to the top of his head. Erbao is my little boy. I would walk through fire for him.

"Yes, my brave boy." I stroke his hair, willing my voice to remain steady. "Mommy’s going to make you all better. I promise."

I look up at the doctor, jaw set with determination. "What do we need to do?"

Dr. Rayburn's lips curve into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I knew I could count on you."

I duck my head, a blush staining my cheeks. His praise shouldn't affect me this way - we are discussing Erbao's health, for goodness sake! - but my treacherous heart still skips a beat.

After explaining the risks and timeline of the transplant in more detail, Dr. Rayburn's gaze linger on mine.

"Thank you, Ardal. You're giving your son the greatest gift."

"He's my son," I say simply. "I'd do anything for him."

"You're an amazing woman." His voice is husky with emotion.

Before I can respond, he clears his throat and glances at the clock. "There’s an art gallery opening downtown Friday night. We could continue our discussion, if you have more questions?"

I hesitate, thrown by the abrupt change in subject.

Is he asking me out on a date?

My pulse flutters at the thought. He’s a good pediatrician and all of the quintuplets have come to like him, but honestly, I barely know him.

Yet… I find myself tempted. When was the last time I’d laughed with a man, or felt remotely feminine?

Still, we were discussing Erbao's health. It seems inappropriate, and I don’t want to send the wrong message.

"Thank you, but I should get home to the other children." I stand, tucking Erbao's hand in mine.

Dr. Rayburn's expression shutter closed, but not before I glimpse the flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

Guilt swamps me, and I bite my lip. "However, the art gallery does sound lovely. If you'd like to see me socially, you can ask me out properly next time."

Dr. Rayburn straightens, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Wonderful, I’m looking forward to it." Dr. Rayburn's eyes lit with pleasure as Ardal agreed to the date, a smile curving his lips.

His reaction seems genuine, yet I catch a flicker of something predatory in his gaze. But when I blink, it’s gone, leaving me unsure if I’ve imagined it.

"Me too," I say, hoping I sound more confident than I feel. "I have to admit, it's been a while since I've been on a real date."

"I find that hard to believe. A woman as stunning as you must have men lining up for the privilege of your company."

Heat rises in my cheeks at the compliment. "You're very kind."

"Just honest." He studies me, gaze intense. "There's something special about you, Ardal. A strength and compassion I don't often see."

The wolf within me purs at the praise, yet I can’t ignore the niggling doubts that persist. "Thank you. I appreciate you saying so."

"I look forward to getting to know you better." He reaches out, clasping my hand in his. A jolt shoots through me at his touch, a heady mix of attraction and warning.

"Friday can't come soon enough." I manage a smile, hoping the tumult of emotions don’t show on my face.

"Me too. I should get going, but I'll see you then." Dr. Rayburn reaches for a box of stickers and holds it out to Erbao. “And you, young man. I’ll see you in one month, okay?”

Erbao nods and digs through the box for the sticker he likes best - a silly cartoon of a computer wearing a pair of sunglasses.

Ardal and Erbao wait for the nurse, Peggy, who comes in shortly after to discuss dialysis with the two of us.

My butterflies over Dr. Rayburn suddenly feel silly and immature, as Peggy explains to us how things will work, and what dialysis will be like until Erbao can have a transplant.

I hold back tears. I want to stay positive for his sake, and try not to let my emotions run away with me.

I walk out of the doctor's office with Erbao by my side, his little hand clutching mine. He is uncharacteristically quiet, his brows knitted in a frown.

"It’ll all be okay, sweetheart,” I say with a gentle smile.

He peered up at me, his dark eyes troubled. "I don't want you to go on a date with Dr. Rayburn."

I blink, surprised that Erbao is worried about something like that, but he’s been through so many tests, scans, and doctor’s appointments all his young life for his congenital kidney malformation. Medical stuff never seems to phase him at all.

"Why not,” I ask.

"I just have a bad feeling about him." Erbao wrinkles his nose. "He seems nice, but there's something not right. I can tell. He smells funny."

I hesitate, remembering my own niggling doubts. But I push them aside, chalking them up to nerves. Dr. Rayburn has given me no reason to distrust him.

"I'm sure everything will be fine." I smile down at him. "Dr. Rayburn is a good man. There's no need to worry."

Erbao doesn’t look convinced but he nods, seeming to sense further argument would be futile. I feel a pang of guilt, hoping I’m not making a mistake by ignoring his misgivings. But I’m tired of living in fear, always waiting for the next threat to emerge. For once, I want to enjoy myself without worrying about the consequences, especially with the weight of Erbao’s dialysis and the transplant on my shoulders now.

I’ve endured too much hardship to pass up an opportunity for happiness, no matter how fleeting. I owe myself at least that much. The future is mine to shape as I choose, and I choose to live in the moment.