by Amie Knight
I knew what my mistake was, but what was hers? “What was—”
“Anthonyyyy,” Isabelle, the owner, sang out, placing two glasses of water in front of us.
I turned to see her striding toward us and looked back at Kelly. Her face was full of relief. We’d talk about this later.
“Hey, honey,” I said, standing up and meeting Isabelle right outside the booth. We hugged before I settled back in the booth.
“The usual?” Isabelle asked.
“Yep, ‘cept make it a double.” I motioned toward Kelly. “Isabelle, this is my friend Kelly.”
“Nice to meet you.” Kelly smiled up at Isabelle.
“You, too.”
Isabelle waggled her eyebrows at me. “She’s pretty, Ant,” she sang out.
I looked at Kelly with her hat pushed down over her eyebrows, her cheeks red from the cold weather, her blue eyes shining with intensity. Her creamy white skin begging for my touch. “She is.”
Isabelle giggled. “Okay, well, I’ll leave you two to it and get your food started. Let me know if you need anything.”
She sashayed away, and Kelly just stared at me.
“What?” I questioned.
“Ant? What’s with the hugs? The booth?” She gestured toward the plaque with her head.
“ASD, also known as Atrial Septal Defect.”
Her face was confused. “What?”
“It’s a common heart defect in babies. That’s what Isabelle and Marco’s baby boy was born with.”
Realization dawned on her face. “And you saved his life.”
“Me and an amazing team of doctors I worked under.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
She laughed. “I’m surprised they didn’t give you the entire damn restaurant.” Then her face got serious. “I would have.”
I bet she would have, too. I could tell her baby girl meant everything to her.
I smiled. “Well, I do have my own booth, and all the food I can eat, which is pretty damn good. Besides, I don’t have a fucking clue how to run a restaurant.”
“But you said, you were buying me lunch. And now you’re telling me you eat for free.”
“Ahh…but I am. With my expert doctoring skills.”
“And I thought your mom was a nut.”
I laughed.
“So what kinda music are you working on?”
“I don’t know.” She paused, studying the sheet of paper in front of her. “It’s not anything special. I just sometimes write when I’m feeling anxious.”
She had every right to feel anxious. “Is that what you did these past ten years? Write music?”
A sarcastic laugh fell from her lips. “Nope. I took off with my band, traveled the world. Followed my dreams. And guess what, Doc?”
“What?”
“Ten years on the road, countless nights slept in a packed van, and I have shit to show for it.”
“Except the experience.”
Her gaze flew to mine. “What?”
“Except you followed your dreams and you traveled and you got to play music. You may not have a lot to show for it, but you did it, and you’ll remember it forever.”
“I guess,” she said softly. It made me sad that she never made it big. She had such passion. She loved playing the fucking drums.
“I didn’t see your drums in the apartment. You storing them somewhere?”
“Nah. I sold them.”
“Why?” I was shocked. She needed those drums like I needed my stethoscope. They were a part of her.
“I needed the money. And I don’t need them. I need a crib. Diapers. The drums just aren’t a priority right now.”
She was sad, I could tell, and it broke my heart. I wanted to push into the other side of the booth and pull her into my arms. I wanted to tell her everything was going to be okay. That she could have her music and her baby. But I couldn’t even promise that.
The heart was fickle, fragile even, and one moment everything could be smooth sailing and the next arduous. All I could do was promise I would try, and I’d already done that.
Isabelle delivered our food, and I was glad for the distraction. Kelly was so melancholy. I imagined her sitting around the apartment all day bored and thinking and worrying over the baby in between all of her doctors’ appointments. No music. No friends. It was a good thing she had me around, I told myself.
Isabelle finished placing all the plates on the table, and Kelly’s mouth fell open. “Dear Lord, you did not order all this food.”
Isabelle laughed as she left our table, and I looked at all of the food. Four large pieces of quiche. Six macaroons. Two eclairs. Two tarts. I’d ordered double, so it looked right to me.
“I did,” I confirmed.
“Why?” she almost yelled out.
“Because I’m hungry?”
“Doc, there’s no way in hell you can eat all of this, even with my help.”
I completely disagreed. I could eat all of this even without her help. “Sure I can. I’m a big guy, bite size, or haven’t you noticed?”
Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, and the pink in those cheeks told me she had noticed and that she liked it and for some reason that made me ridiculously happy.
“Eat.”
She rolled her eyes, her lips pursing.
“Doctor’s orders.” I smiled mischievously.
At that, she ate.
And I watched her. I’d never sat across from anyone at my favorite café before. I hadn’t realized I was missing anything special before that day. Until I watched her moan around a mouthful of cheese and crust. Until she laughed when she dropped a bit of cream on the front of her jacket. Until she smiled and chatted with Isabelle like they were old friends all afternoon. I’d thought my life was full. But in that moment, I was acutely aware of how wrong I’d been. I’d been missing her all these years and didn’t even realize it.
“I smell cookies.”
The man was going to eat me out of house and home, which was pretty hard since I didn’t really have a home.
“Maybe,” I said from the kitchen.
I’d made cookies for me today. Not Anthony. It was just pure coincidence that they were done right around the time he came by every night. It was also just a coincidence that he’d mentioned chocolate chip were his favorites as he ate an entire pack of Oreos on the couch next to me the night before. The man loved to eat and the truth was I started to enjoy seeing him snack on the sofa next to me every night.
At some point over the last couple of weeks, I’d come to think of him as a friend. My only friend here really, besides his mother, who stopped by periodically to check up on me. Our friendship scared me as much as it elated me. I didn’t want to depend on him for more than I already was.
I didn’t know if he’d somehow end our friendship how he’d ended that night so long ago.
I didn’t know how it would affect our patient doctor relationship either. I tried not to think about all of that as I spent the last two hours on my feet baking cookies. If he wasn’t worried about it, and he clearly wasn’t since he stopped by every night to hang out with me, then I wouldn’t worry about it either.
Anthony came around into the dining room and sat on one of the stools at the counter that separated the kitchen from the other room.
His eyes scoured the countertop, taking in the hundred or so cookies I’d spent the afternoon and evening baking.
He brought his tender eyes to mine. “You baked for me.”
I looked away. I concentrated on cleaning the counter I was so obviously trying to put a hole in with my dish rag. “I didn’t. I baked for me.”
“You baked a shit ton of my favorite cookies for yourself?”
“Yeah,” I said, rubbing my pregnant belly. “In case you missed it, I’m pregnant and I was craving some cookies.”
“Some cookies? There has to be over one hundred cookies here, short stack.”
I turned, hiding my smile
from him as I unloaded another batch from the oven. “I made some for Lucy, too.”
He chuckled low and deep, and it rolled over me hot and heavy. I turned to the sink away from him, gripping the edge of it. I closed my eyes for a moment, praying for my damn hormones to calm down. My skin felt itchy, tight, and hot, and I wanted to vault over that counter and tackle him to the floor.
And just when I thought I got myself somewhat under control, I felt a hot body behind mine, too close, and I smelled him and God, he smelled divine. I wanted to lick that spot behind his ear that he loved so long ago. But, it was a bad idea. I closed my eyes, pretending he wasn’t just behind me a breath away. Too close and still way too far.
“So, you’ll give Lucille your cookies, and not me?” His breath teased me close to my ear and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention.
One small sentence said softy into my ear and my core was aching, throbbing, pounding.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I was afraid my voice would betray me. I was afraid it would tell him I wanted him to get down on his knees right now in this kitchen, jerk my pants down, pull my granny panties to the side, and do dirty wicked things with his mouth between my legs. I leaned forward more on the sink on a small groan.
“Are you okay?” he said from behind me, and I had just enough sense to pipe out a quiet yes.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing my shoulder and turning me toward him and tucking me under his arm, which wasn’t hard because as Anthony said on many occasions, I was bite size and he was huge.
“I think you wore yourself out.” He pushed me down onto the couch and sat close to me, his thigh to mine, and I thought I was going to go out of my mind.
“Maybe,” I lied through my teeth. I knew what was wrong with me. I had a sexy ass doctor parked next to me every night. I was a sex starved pregnant woman. I wanted him. I’d had him. I knew it was good. I knew we were good together. I wanted another round.
I looked down at my pregnant stomach and thought of the stretch marks there. The beautiful man across from me could never be attracted to me right now and probably not after the baby. I had a feeling I was going to be sporting love handles and stretch marks forevermore.
I pushed myself into the corner to get a little farther away from him and the fire that was blazing in my body.
He smiled from the other end of the sofa. “I can’t believe it. I’m finally getting in there.”
I narrowed my eyes. He looked too smug.
“You like me.”
“I don’t.”
“You do. You baked for me.”
“Fine,” I groaned out between my teeth. “I might like you a little.”
He laughed. “Just a little?”
“Don’t push your fucking luck, Doc.”
“So I can have some cookies?”
“Jesus, yes. Please, for God’s sake, go get a damn cookie before you die.” I was secretly so dang pleased he wanted my cookies.
I smiled to myself as he got up off the couch and went to the kitchen. He came back with a plate that contained no less than ten cookies, and I shook my head and giggled.
“What? I’m a big guy,” he defended and I felt my eyes about to do it.
Please, I begged them. Do not look at his junk. Just don’t. Don’t think about it and don’t look, but still my eyes drifted down and to the plate of cookies that thankfully covered his lap.
My cheeks flamed at the thought of cookies and cock because both sounded pretty damn good right about now.
I felt warm eyes on mine and looked up to find Anthony staring at me, a strange expression on his face that told me he definitely thought I was checking out his goods.
With one eyebrow raised, he asked, “Hungry?”
Christ almighty, but I wanted to tell him. I was starving but not for cookies.
“For a cookie, of course?” he finished and I nodded my hot head, embarrassed beyond embarrassment.
He passed me one and I took a bite, thankful for the distraction. Leaning over, I rubbed my foot with my free hand. “Jesus, my feet are killing me.”
Anthony sat his plate on the table and grabbed my foot from my hand. “They look swollen. You were on them too much today. Are you drinking enough water?”
I shouldn’t have been embarrassed. He was a doctor and he was just checking out my feet since I’d complained, but still I tried to yank my foot away.
“Hey, calm down there, shorty.” He pulled my leg until I was lying horizontally on the couch and both my feet were in his lap. He cupped one of my small size six feet in his big, warm hands and you could hardly see it. I lay here, my spine stick straight, paralyzed by my shock, cookie still poised at my mouth, but my other hand frantically gripping the arm of the couch. What in the hell was he doing?
That’s what I was thinking when he took the pads of his thumbs and rubbed them roughly from the ball of my foot into the arch and all the way to the heel. And I melted into the couch, like butter.
“Oh my God,” I moaned.
He laughed low. “That’s Dr. God to you.”
I didn’t even have a snarky comment ready. All I could do was lie here with my eyes closed while one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen in my life rubbed my fat, swollen feet like they weren’t the most disgusting thing in the world.
I decided to take the moment of bliss even further. With eyes still closed, I took a bite of cookie. “Mmmm.”
“Living the life over there, huh?” He laughed.
I opened one eye and narrowed it. “Stop talking. You’re ruining it.”
He laughed harder. “How have you been feeling?” He seemed genuinely concerned.
“I’ve been good, actually. Me and the baby, Team Hope, we got this thing in the bag.”
“And me,” he said quietly.
I didn’t understand. “I’m sorry?”
“I’m on your team, too, right?”
I stared him at him stunned. I hadn’t had anyone on my team in a long damn time. His eyes practically pleaded with me to say yes. And I wanted to, but I didn’t want to let him all the way in. He’d disappointed me before. Would he do it again?
I laughed and pretended there was no way he could be serious. “You want to be on Team Hope? My team?”
That infuriating man had the audacity to not even pause. “Most definitely.”
“Hmm,” I hummed, not knowing what to say. Damn it, I wanted him on my team, too. But I was scared of him. Scared of what could be. Scared it wouldn’t come to be at all.
His face was anguished when he said, “It’s okay.” He rubbed the arch of my foot softly. “Whether you like or not, I’m already on your team. I’ve been on your team for ten years, and I’ll be on your team for ten more.”
I didn’t know what to say. The moment was too intimate. The rational part of my brain said not to say anything at all, so I didn’t speak again until my cookie was gone and my breathing was slow and I felt like I was floating on a cloud somewhere in the sky. I wanted to tell him there was no one else I’d rather have on my team than him. That even though things hadn’t ended well between us in the past, as of right now, he was my very best friend and I’d be lost without him.
“Where is he?” he asked quietly.
My eyes opened slowly to see him sitting there, staring at me like I was a puzzle he’d been wanting to solve his whole life. His red dress shirt was open at the collar, and I noticed the color really suited him.
“Who?” I asked just as softly.
“The man who should be rubbing your feet when they’re sore. The person who should be taking you to all your appointments. The one who should be sitting next to you at night while you watch your trash TV? Where is he?”
His jaw ticked while he waited on my answer. He was angry, mad that I was alone. I was relieved.
“My guess is he’s still traveling with a band in a van across the US, only with a brand-new drummer. It’s all for the best. He has a bad temper and a bit of a drug pro
blem. Like most musicians.” I swallowed. It hadn’t been serious between us, but it had still hurt how it had all ended.
“He didn’t want her. It wasn’t a relationship, really. We just messed around. It was convenient and easy, but I’m starting to learn that convenient and easy aren’t always good. Ya know?”
He nodded, his face solemn, urging me to go on.
“When I found out, I cried and cried. I was so sad. I didn’t want a baby. And when I told him, he told me to get rid of it. It, he’d said. Like it was an object. Like a piece of trash in the back of the van. Just a thing to be tossed away. And I knew I couldn’t do it. Because to me, the it he’d so casually mentioned was already a baby, a person. I couldn’t do it, Doc. Not even after they told me she was sick.”
Leaning over, his hand reached for my face. He rubbed his thumb across the apple of my cheek just like his mom had done weeks ago, his face soft, his eyes fierce.
“I’m glad you couldn’t do it.” His hand dropped and found mine. He wrapped his huge pinky around my small one and whispered, “Team Hope.”
That was all he said. He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and went back to my feet. And I went back to my cloud, only this time I felt a little bit lighter.
That Night Ten Years Ago
“You’re a bed hog.”
She giggled and my heart skipped a beat and I felt dumb, ridiculous, and utterly head over heels. I shouldn’t like her this much already. She was a musician, for fuck’s sake. She was going on tour, and I was going to medical school. We were headed down two different paths in life, but my body, my mind, and my heart didn’t seem to give a flying fuck. She was gorgeous in that eccentric way that had never really appealed to me. Until now. Her adorable heart-shaped face framed in short dark hair and big blue eyes drew me in. Music notes danced in the form of a tattoo from the middle of her back across her side and up onto her ribcage. I wanted to show them how pretty I thought they were with my tongue.
“Hey, I totally resemble that remark.” She punched me in the arm and I fell over onto my back, my head hitting the pillow with a grunt. I was putting on a show for her. She weighed all of a buck ten soaking wet. There was no way she’d ever be able to knock me over.