by Carrie Elks
He exhaled heavily. “You’ll always be my little sister. I can’t help the protective older brother thing.” He’d been doing it for too long to shuck it off now.
“Maybe you could turn it on yourself a little. Give yourself a break.” Belle smiled softly. “Bring Meghan to the show. Do what you need to, just make it work.”
“I’ll ask her.”
“Good. Now let’s go grab a coffee. All this heart to heart stuff is making me thirsty.”
Sliding his sunglasses over his dark hair, Rich walked into the lobby and called the elevator, his body slumping as he waited for it to come.
He and Belle had gone to the Déjà Brew coffee shop on the boardwalk, then taken a walk along the long concrete path, stopping to look at the displays in the surf shop and the gift shop beyond it. When they passed Meghan’s ice cream shop, they’d stopped to look in but there was no sign of her. Of course Belle had asked one of the assistants where she was, and they’d been told that she was at Isla’s school for a play.
And he’d felt weird, because he should have known that stuff and he didn’t. Maybe if he’d spent less time asking her what she was wearing and more time asking about her life she would have told him about Isla’s play.
What it was, who she was playing in it. Whether she was excited or nervous.
But she hadn’t. And now he felt like an asshole.
The elevator arrived and he stepped in, leaning his head back on the wall. His reflection stared back at him from the mirrored wall opposite, judging him for not being a good friend. Or whatever the heck he was supposed to be to her.
Friends knew stuff about each other. They wished each other luck. They cared enough to ask if everything was okay.
He was a shitty friend, he knew that. Sure, his work was a good excuse. It was almost impossible to be present for people when he wasn’t sure what shift he’d be working. It was easy to let his friends down when they knew he was doing it for a good reason.
But he also wore his job as a shield. It stopped him from getting too involved. Gave him an excuse to be a fuck up at the moments he needed it most.
And it stopped him from getting hurt.
That was the truth of it. His dedication to his career wasn’t completely altruistic. Yes, it was about saving lives, but it was also about saving his own. Because when he dedicated himself to solving other people’s problems, he could ignore the ones that were beating down his brain.
The elevator arrived on the tenth floor, and he walked out, looking down at the pink paper bag he was holding. Belle had helped him pick out a congratulations gift for Isla at the gift shop – a tiny silver necklace with a star and unicorn on it, along with Isla’s initial. He’d even bought a card and written that he was proud of her in it.
And now he was hesitating at leaving it at their door. Because what if it was too much? Damn, his head was all messed up right now, and it was Belle’s fault. She was making him think about things he didn’t have a right to.
Things like happiness. Friendship. Maybe something more.
The same things he’d been avoiding for years.
It was a damn necklace for a child, not an engagement ring for her mother. He shook his head at himself, sliding the paper bag beneath Meghan’s door before he could change his mind, then ran to his own damn apartment.
Friendship. That’s what it was. He could do that, the same way he did with James, and his co workers in the ER.
Yeah, but you don’t fantasize about them every night.
And his inner thoughts could shut the hell up. He turned on his stereo, loud music filling his brain.
Exercise, that’s what he’d do. And after that he’d take a nap.
“Rich?” Meghan said, wedging her phone between her shoulder and her ear.
“Yeah?” He sounded groggy. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I just have a very excited little girl who wants to say thank you for your gift, and unless I put her on the phone she’s probably going to beat down your door.”
He gave a little chuckle, and Meghan tried to ignore the way it made her heart skip a beat. Before she could say anything else, Isla grabbed the phone and started talking excitedly into the mouthpiece.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Isla was breathless. “I love it. It’s so pretty. Everybody’s going to be so jealous when they see it.” There was a pause, and Meghan could hear the low rumble of his voice.
“Yeah, it was good,” Isla replied. “I was Ariel. Everybody kept saying it’s because I have red hair, but we all know that Ella Frances can’t sing a single note.”
Isla’s face was bright with excitement, her brows pulled down as she concentrated on what Rich was saying. “Yep,” she said. “I definitely will. Do you want to speak to Mommy? She’s going to cook my favorite dinner. You should come over and eat with us. Pleeeaase?” Isla lifted the phone from her ear, but didn’t bother to cover the mouthpiece. “Mommy, can Rich come have dinner with us?”
Meghan tried not to laugh. “Sure.”
“Here, you tell him what time we’re eating.” Isla shoved the phone at her and skipped off, pulling at her necklace with gentle fingers. Meghan lifted the phone back to her ear.
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. But before I make a real commitment I want to know what you’re cooking.”
“Nuggets and tater tots.”
“Those are my absolute favorite, too.” There was still a thickness to his voice.
“Did we wake you?” Meghan asked.
“Yeah, but I needed to get up. Otherwise I won’t sleep tonight. Can I bring anything with me?”
“Just yourself. It’ll be ready at six.” She tried to ignore the tingling inside of her at the thought of him spending time with them.
“Okay. Tater tots and nuggets at six. I’ve got it.”
She grinned. “See you then.”
20
After checking on Gloria, who’d been released from the hospital the day before, Rich walked over to Meghan’s door and rapped his knuckles on the wood, grinning when Isla opened it, her eyes wide with delight.
“Come in,” she said, pulling his hand until he was inside their apartment. “Do you like ketchup? I’m only allowed one squeeze, but when you have tater tots and nuggets you really need two.”
“I’m a big fan of ketchup.” He grinned down at the little girl. “But your mom’s right. There’s a lot of sugar in there, so you need to eat it in moderation.”
“My dentist says I have great teeth,” Isla said, her hand still in his. It felt so tiny against his warm palm. “Mommy says that’s because I brush my teeth so good. She’s in the bedroom. I heard her huffing and puffing and pulling drawers like she was looking for something.”
As if on cue, Meghan’s bedroom door opened, and she walked out, a smile curling her lips as she saw him standing there. Through the crack in the door he could see her bed, and he had to push away the memories of the night he’d spent in there.
“Hey. Dinner’s in the oven. I’ve been slaving all day.” She looked pretty in a pale yellow dress that ended at the knee, cinched in at the waist with a thick black belt. It contrasted perfectly with her russet waves.
“Hey.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek. Isla was already distracted by something on the television. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” She smiled up at him. He’d forgotten how green her eyes were, and how much he loved it when she looked at him like that. “And you? Is it your day off today? I lose count.”
“Yeah. I’ve taken on a few extra shifts next week for a friend, so he swapped for this week.”
“It must be hard for your body, getting used to all the time changes.” She gave him a sympathetic smile.
“You get used to it. I’ve been doing it for a long time.” He shrugged. “And I guess I don’t have anybody to answer to except myself. And the medical director.”
The oven timer rang out. Meghan walked over to the kitchen
and opened the door, checking on the tater tots and nuggets inside. “So I have a confession,” she told him.
“You do?”
“Yeah. On tater tots nights we don’t have any vegetables. And I know that sounds terrible, but tater tot nights happen once every blue moon. I promised Isla them tonight because she did so great in her play. But if you like, I can peel some carrots or something?”
She looked so earnest, he couldn’t help but laugh. “What do you think I am, the food police? You should see what we eat when we’re on a shift. And at home, come to that. I don’t know any doctor or nurse that eats well. We just stuff whatever we can find into our mouths when we have a spare minute.”
“I just didn’t want you to think I’m a bad mom.”
The smile slipped off his lips. “I would never think that,” he said, his voice low. From the corner of his eye he could see Isla entranced by the television screen. “I’ve never met a better mom than you, and that’s the truth. Isla’s lucky to have you.”
Meghan pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, still staring at him with wide eyes, and damn if he didn’t want to kiss her.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” he murmured. “I should have told you that the moment I saw you.”
She glanced down at her dress. “Thank you. It felt nice being able to dress up, even if it’s just for tater tots.”
“Did you wear it for me?” he asked, his voice low.
Her eyes flickered to his. “Yes.”
Warmth rushed through him. For a moment they said nothing, just stared at each other as though there was nobody else in the room. And yeah, if they’d been alone, he’d probably have kissed her. But they weren’t.
So he’d have to wait.
The timer went off again. “Okay, they should be ready this time.” She grabbed three plates and laid them out on the counter. “Isla, go wash your hands please.”
Isla hopped off the sofa. “Rich, you need to wash yours, too. Who knows what you’ve been touching.”
He swallowed down a laugh. “You’re right. Can I share your soap?”
Isla nodded, her expression serious. “Of course. Come on, we have to sing Happy Birthday three times to clean them properly. Even though it takes forever…”
“That’s exactly what we were taught at medical school.” He stole a glance at Meghan, who was watching them with soft eyes. When she realized he’d caught her looking, she turned away, busying herself with taking the food out of the oven.
“Come on then, let’s go,” Isla urged. “It’s tater tots night!”
Isla was so excited to have Rich at the table with them, she barely tasted her food, wofling it down between breaths as she regaled him with all the details of her play. “And that’s why we made a model for Ursula. Nobody wanted to play her. She’s mean and horrible and everybody hates her.”
Rich was nodding as she talked, though he clearly had no idea about The Little Mermaid or Ursula or any of the gang. “She sounds like a medical director I used to work for.”
Isla giggled. “Was she mean?”
“Yep. She used to roster me on eight nights in a row. Everybody knew she hated me. It wasn’t my fault I put a banana in her exhaust pipe for a dare.”
Isla’s mouth dropped open. “You were naughty?”
Rich’s glance caught Meghan’s and she felt it to the tip of her toes. He dwarfed their small dining table, his legs barely fitting beneath the surface. And yet it felt so weirdly natural to have him here. He was just so easy to be with. He made Isla giggle, and Meghan smile, and she was enjoying it all a bit too much.
Rich put another tater tot into his mouth. “These are delicious. I can’t remember the last time I ate one of these.”
“Why don’t you have kids?” Isla asked him.
Rich shifted in his seat. Meghan sent him a sympathetic glance, but was interested to hear his answer.
“I guess I never met the right person to have children with,” he said carefully.
“Would you like to have some?” Isla wasn’t taking any prisoners. She was worse than Meghan’s father. And it was so amusing to watch Rich squirm.
“I guess so.”
Isla ran her finger across her lip, looking up at Rich with an intense expression. “I could be your kid. You could be my dad.”
Okay, so this wasn’t quite so funny anymore. Meghan glanced at Isla’s empty plate. “Take your dishes to the kitchen, honey.”
“I can’t. It’s rude to clear the table before everybody is finished.” She looked at Rich’s plate, with three nuggets still there. “I’ll wait.”
Silence fell over the table. Rich speared another nugget, looking at Meghan with wide eyes, as though he needed help.
“Rich can’t be your dad, sweetheart,” Meghan told her. “You already have a dad, remember?”
Rich blinked, swallowing down the nugget.
“Yeah, but I don’t know him. And some kids at school have two dads. He could be my Angel Sands dad.”
“Maybe I can just be your friend.” Rich seemed to have recovered his poise. “Would that work?”
Isla tipped her head to the side, her eyes narrow as she thought it over. “I guess… yeah, we can be friends.”
“I’m glad we’ve got that figured out.” Rich had thankfully finished, and Meghan took his plate, passing it to Isla to put on top of her own. “Help me clear up, sweetie. I have a special ice cream for dessert.”
“A new one?” Isla’s eyes widened. “Yum!”
“She’s asleep, finally,” Meghan said, softly closing Isla’s bedroom door and tiptoeing back to the living room. Rich was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. After dinner, they’d played a game of Uno, and Isla had taken a shower while Rich cleaned up the kitchen. Then they’d watched a couple of episodes of some Disney kid show she seemed to be hooked on, before she’d reluctantly gotten into bed.
And it was weird, because at any other time he’d have made an excuse to go home after dinner was over. But he was enjoying being part of their routine. It reminded him of the ER, there were protocols to follow, a system to be had, and Isla was always trying to buck it.
But she was no match for Meghan. He bit down a smile at how in control she was.
“Would you like a beer? Or a glass of wine?” Meghan asked him. “I have a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc in the refrigerator.”
“Wine sounds perfect. Thank you.” He stood, stretching his aching muscles. “Can I help?”
She shook her head. “Let’s drink out on the balcony. That way we won’t disturb Isla.”
The sun was setting as Rich pulled two chairs around the little bistro table on Meghan’s mostly unused balcony. She passed him a glass and they sat, looking out at the distant mountains, shaded purple by the evening rays. The air was cool, enough for Meghan to slide a grey cardigan over her pretty yellow dress. Her feet were bare, her toes painted a pale pink that enhanced the lushness of her skin.
“So.” Meghan gave him a tight smile. “I’m sorry about Isla. She shouldn’t have said that stuff about you being her dad.” She shifted in her chair and took a sip of her wine, her chin lifting as she looked out at the distant hills.
“You don’t need to be sorry.” He tipped his head at her, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Hey,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm. “I’m not running away screaming because your kid wants to know why I’m not a dad.”
Finally, she looked at him. He felt like he could breathe again.
“We had a talk at bedtime. Isla knows she already has a dad. I think she’s just not sure how to relate to you. She doesn’t have a lot of men in her life apart from my dad.”
“Can you tell me more about her dad?” he asked. “Only if you want to.”
She crossed her legs, the movement pulling her dress up her thighs. He was really trying not to look at them.
And failing miserably.
“I think I told you we met the year I graduated. I was trying to earn some money and get
some experience. I always had a plan to start my own business, just needed to know how. I think I knew from the start I couldn’t work for anybody else long term. Not after growing up in such a controlled household. I still kind of blanch when people tell me what to do.”
“That’s understandable,” he murmured, entranced by the way she was looking at him.
“Anyway, I was running a bar at a festival. Typical rich girl rebellion. I’d lucked out or maybe they could smell the upbringing on me, because I was in the VIP area. Which meant mostly rich people who liked to tip a lot were coming in to drink and relax. And the bands would come in after their sets and hang out in the area. One of them – a drummer – took a bit of a liking to me. He’d stand by the bar and talk to me while I served. After a couple of nights, he got me a backstage pass and let me stand in the wings while they played. It was so different to anything I’d experienced before. I guess I got swept up in the romance of it all.”
His jaw tightened at the thought of this drummer, whoever he was. Not because he was jealous – they were adults, they had pasts after all – but because he knew where this story was going.
“Sleeping with him was my first real shot at pushing away my upbringing. I don’t think I’d ever felt alive before that festival. Not in a real way. But that week, it felt like I was finally waking up from a really long sleep. Surrounded by people who loved what they did.” She pulled her lip between her teeth. “I guess lived for what they did, would be a better way of putting it. And there was no stigma attached to being with somebody. No expectation that you’d have to marry them or date them or do anything but feel good with them.” She shook her head, a wry smile pulling at her lips. “A few months later, I found out I was pregnant.”
“Did you keep in touch with the father?”
She shook her head. “It was a one week thing. I think we both knew that. So I contacted his management to try to get him the message.”
“Did you hear back from him?”