Pro hockey star, Christian Brooks, has everything he ever needed as a starting forward Right Winger, and a three year old daughter. Or, so he thought.
When Brinley Cameron's newest patient happens to be, a star hockey player, for her favorite team'...
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"No, listen. Halloween is from September through October. Christmas is from November 1st through December 25th, with a break for Thanksgiving... Obviously." Brinley states, matter of factly.
She continued to ramble on, although, I couldn't understand half the shit she's said today. Between the thick southern accent, and the fast talking, I couldn't keep up. "Brinley." I interrupt her, putting my hand out. "Slow down. I can't understand you." I say, lightly chuckling.
She sends me a sheepish smile, "Sorry..."
"It's okay, just, you have to talk slower. I can't understand your fucking accent." I say, signaling to turn left.
"Not my fault you can't keep up." She shrugs her shoulders, looking out the window. I wasn't stupid enough to know she was grinning.
I shake my head, a small laugh escaping my lips. "You're something else."
"I know."
"Hey, can I ask you something?" I hesitantly ask.
"What's up?"
I knew it wasn't my business, but I was too curious not to. If she says she doesn't want to talk about it, I'll drop it. "Did he at least tell you why he cheated?"
She sighs, looking back out the window. "No. He didn't actually own up to it. He didn't deny it though, especially when I showed him proof."
"Prick."
"He didn't need to. I know why." She says quietly, looking down at her lap.
"We don't have to talk about it."
"It's fine. I probably should anyways." She says, taking a deep breath through her nose, before letting it out of her mouth.
"He wants kids. Not because he loves them and wants his own. Someone has to carry on his family name." She says, rolling her eyes.
"And you don't want kids?" I glance over at her. She stiffens slightly.
"No, I love them. I'm a pediatric surgeon.", she says and I nod my head, "It's just... I can't have kids."
My stomach drops.
"I'd told him there were other ways to have kids. But, to him, if I can't have kids, then, that's my problem to figure out." She confesses, her voice choking up.
I grip the steering wheel tighter and my knuckles begin turning white. That motherfucker.
"Apparently, adoption isn't the same because it's not biologically your child, and it'd be a disgrace for someone else to carry your child.", she says, wiping under her eye, "I think it doesn't matter. If you can't have kids, and you happen to be able to adopt, it's your baby, blood or not." She shrugs her right shoulder.
