"Those papers are a mess, Bridget. You write notes on napkins, and paper bags and take-out menus."
"I do that." I nod.
"I sat at the table to drink the coffee I made myself the other morning when you were still asleep." He grazes his hand over the back of my hair. "I was reading a magazine you had there about some beauty products."
I pull my hand up to stifle a giggle. "You didn’t read that, did you?"
"I bought some stuff so I can exfoliate tonight."
I shake my head, not certain whether he's joking or not. "Your skin is perfect the way it is."
"Spoken by a true beauty expert." He nuzzles his chin into the side of my hair. "You wrote the details about your appointment today on the cover of that magazine. It was scribbled across the face of the model."
I remember doing that when Harper's office manager had called to tell me that she needed to change my appointment so it was a day earlier than scheduled. "It was the closest thing I had to write on."
"I saw it as a sign from the heavens above that I was supposed to meet you there so I could buy you a coffee."
I look down at my empty hands. "You forgot the coffee part."
"I can do one better." He points to where a hotdog vendor is standing at the entrance to Central Park. "I can go over there and get my favorite girl a hotdog for lunch, with a pretzel for dessert."
"I'm your favorite girl?"
"You're the only girl in the world."
I stumble over my emotions as I nod faintly knowing that they're not just words meant to romance me, they're coming from his heart and they're pulling every one of my emotions right to the surface.
Chapter 22
"I'm sorry I can't stay for your appointment, but I'm working tonight. I need to work every night this week."
I look up into his face as we stand in the lobby of the hospital. I need to check-in for my appointment with Ben in five minutes. I know he's likely running late but I don’t want to hold him up. "I need to get up there."
"Do you have plans tonight? Can I call you on my break?"
"You can call me anytime you want." I glance over his shoulder at the large clock hanging on the wall. "Did you want to talk about something in particular?"
"I hate to do this now when you have to go."
The words stall me. I know what he's about to say. It's Maisy. We've been blissfully avoiding the subject of his ex-girlfriend since he told me he was willing to give up his house for her. I didn't take that statement literally. I had hoped that we could talk about it more and that I could reassure him that I wanted to be a sounding board for him if he needed that. He has a right to at least the portion of the investment he made in that property and now that I know that he'd sacrifice so much for me, I want to help him get back what's rightfully his.
"Is it about Maisy?" I ask with little noticeable emotion in my voice. I want to be mature about this. I want him to understand that I don't feel threatened by her, even if I did at one time.
"I think I have a solution for all of that." He pulls me into his arms. "I think I found a way to finally get her out of my life."
"And out of the house?" I ask.
"I know you have to go but I've realized that I don't want to live there anymore. I can't live there. I was there with her."
I rest my head against his hard chest. "Will you just sell it?"
"If I moved back in, I'd see her in every room and I'd never be able to bring you there. That was the house I shared with her. I want to start fresh and new."
The idea of him selling the property and then giving Maisy something to compensate her for her contributions to their living expenses seems more than fair to me. "Have you talked to her about this?"
He pulls back suddenly. "You have a minute to get up there. You need to go. Tell Ben it's my fault if he asks you why you're late."
I look into his eyes. "You'll come see me tomorrow after you sleep, right?"
"I'll be there as soon as I can."
***
"I was going to suggest we take another x-ray of your wrist, but I don't think that's necessary." Ben squeezes his fingers near my thumb. "This doesn't hurt, does it?"
"No." I watch as he bends each of my fingers.
"Have you experienced any pain at all?"
"I hurt it earlier when I was reaching into my pocket to pull out my phone."
He nods. "You're going to get that from time-to-time. If it happens often, come back in and I'll take a look at it."
I look past him to a poster hanging on the wall of the human skeletal system. "Are my ribs fully healed?"
"Ribs are tricky." He moves his gloved hand to my side. "Lift your arms over your head."
I do. "What do you mean tricky?"
He doesn't say a word as he runs his fingers over my side. "You're the best judge of how they're healing. If the pain has subsided, you're on the right track."
"I don't feel any pain in my side." I drop my hands when he turns towards a tablet that is resting on the edge of the exam table.
"Any headaches?"
It's a question no one has asked me for weeks. I expected to have splitting headaches after my head crashed into the windshield of the police car, but that hadn't happened. The pain radiating from my forehead had been intense for a few days and then it had disappeared. I'd gone home with a stern warning about reporting any unusual symptoms including loss of memory or balance, but I had been fine. The worse thing had been a slight ringing in my ears, which my mother had reported to the nurse on call in the ER. She assured us it was normal and that with rest it would pass.
"My head is fine."
"Have you thought about being a stunt woman?"
I giggle at the suggestion. It's the same thing he said to me the day I was discharged. "You've already used that joke on me."
"I know." He darts his head to the side so our eyes meet. "I was testing your memory."
I slide off the edge of the exam table and onto my feet. "I can go now, right? There must be other people waiting to see you who are actually sick."
He cocks a brow when I brush past him on my way to the door. "Take care of yourself, Bridget and take care of Dane too. He's one of the good ones."
I smile knowing that he already knows I see and feel that. I don't need anyone to remind me that the man I can't stop thinking about is almost too good to be true.
Chapter 23
"I thought you said that your boyfriend was going to be here."
I had said that. Call it wishful thinking but yesterday when Dane told me that he'd be here after he woke up, I decided that asking Zoe to come over early would give them an opportunity to get to know each other better. I'm not one of those women who need the absolute approval of her friends in order to fall in love with a man, but I want to know that my closest friend sees what I see in Dane.
In some ways I regret telling Zoe about Maisy and Dane's almost engagement and I wish I hadn't confided in her about the struggle he was facing over his house, but she knows those things now and if I can counter those first impressions with a few minutes of one-on-one time between the two of them, I want to do that.
When I'd called him earlier to ask what time he'd be stopping by, he'd told me that he had a few errands to run before his shift tonight and he couldn't make it. My heart had sunk, not just because I wouldn't get the chance to see him but because it meant I'd have to explain to Zoe why he wasn't here when she got here.
"He had stuff to do," I say with a heavy sigh. "I'm going to start back at the pub at the end of the week so I don't know when I'll get a chance to get you two together again."
"You'll invite him to the pub when he has a night off." She wraps her arm around my shoulder. "I'll stop by to have a glass of white wine and I'll visit with him."
I tap my hand over hers. "You'd do that?"
"You have no idea how much your face lights up when you talk about him." She squeezes her side into mine. "I've never seen you act like that about a guy."
/> "I've never known anyone like him, Zoe."
"I said that to you when I met Beck." She laughs. "Or I thought it. He was different. I knew there was something special about him."
"I know that about Dane too."
"We've got a couple of hours before Vanessa gets here so what do you want to do?"
I point at the last few boxes that I stacked in the corner of my living room. "I need to unpack those. You game for that?"
"I'm game." She reaches for the half full glass of white wine she poured for herself when she arrived. "Let me finish this and I'll help."
I laugh as I brush past her to pick up the first box.
***
"I like this so much better than your last apartment." Vanessa pushes past me to look down the hallway. "I'm sorry I was late, Bridge. There was way too much going on at the hospital today."
I don't ask. Every time I've ever asked about her work, she launches into a rant that's filled with medical terms that make no sense at all to me. I admire her for having the drive to chase after her dream of being a nurse. I just don't understand any of the medical jargon or how she can stay so cheery when she's facing so much illness on a daily basis.
"I was early. I came to meet her boyfriend but he never showed," Zoe spits the words out.
She's had more than a few glasses of wine. I'd peg it at three but while I was busy unloading the last of the boxes containing my belongings, she was playing a game on my tablet and downing the wine like it was water.
Thankfully Vanessa is so busy texting someone on her smartphone that she doesn't hear a word that Zoe just said.
"You should see her studio." Zoe pulls on Vanessa's elbow. "She has some of her drawings set up in there."
Vanessa's eyes darts up. "You have a studio here?"
"No." I half-shrug my shoulder. "It's not an actual studio. It's a spare bedroom."
"Show me." Vanessa's gaze moves towards the hallway. "There's a three alarm fire, I may need to go back into work depending on the number of injured. We're short staffed right now."
I glance down at her phone. It's too early for Dane to be at work yet which offers a strange sense of comfort I didn't think I'd need. I saw him in his gear the night of my accident. I know that he's trained to protect not only himself, but the people he works alongside, during a fire. I'm just grateful when I know that he's safe.
"I'll turn it on." I brush past her and Zoe. "You two go look at my spare room. I'll be right there."
I hear them walking the tiled floor toward the far end of the hallway as I push the button on my remote to turn on the television. I don't watch it often but when I do it's almost always tuned onto the news channel so I'm not surprised when a reporter sitting behind an anchor desk pops onto the screen. She's talking about a shark attack in a remote area of the world and just as I turn toward the hallway I hear my name being called.
"Bridget, get in here now."
"I'm coming," I call back to Zoe as I steal one last glance at the television.
The image that greets me is completely different now. It's a male reporter. He's standing outside the smoldering shell of a house in Queens. I stare, open mouthed at the rushed scene of the fireman milling about, all working hard to save the neighboring homes. It's utter chaos and the chilling site of a woman on her knees crying as the camera pans over her quickly, stops my breath.
This is Dane's life. This is what he faces each and every time he goes to work. I want to call him. I want to tell him that I'm falling in love with him so that tonight, when he gets called to an emergency, he'll have those words in his heart.
"Bridget." Zoe's voice is more demanding.
I drop the remote onto the coffee table as I turn on my heel to rush down the hallway.
Chapter 24
"You can't possibly be right." Zoe is looking directly at Vanessa when I enter the room. "You're wrong."
"I'm telling you I'm right." Vanessa is standing with her hands on her hips. "I've met her. That's her."
"Who did you meet?" I step between them, wanting to lessen the tension in the room. "What are you two talking about?"
"You drew Maisy," Vanessa says the words as her eyes race over my face.
I reach out in front of me to steady my balance. "What are you talking about? I never drew Maisy."
"That's her, Bridget." Her fingers float past my head towards one of the sketches I have displayed on the easels. "I'd know her anywhere."
I can't focus on the portraits, only on her words. "When I first asked you about Dane, you told me you'd never met him. How would you know what Maisy looks like?"
"Dane's mom introduced us a few weeks ago." She takes a step towards the portraits. "They were at the hospital for an appointment. I actually saw them there together yesterday but I was too busy to stop and talk. Dane was there too."
I can't absorb anything she's saying to me. "I think you're wrong."
"I'm not wrong. That's her. You drew her."
I stare at her and it feels as if the world is moving in slow motion as she steps away from me towards the easel that is displaying the portrait of Harper.
I feel an immediate sense of relief.
"That's not Maisy." I point towards the drawing. "It's not her. That's my physical therapist. Her name is Harper."
"No. I'm not talking about that one. It's the one over there. "Vanessa's head turns slowly to the left before she gestures towards a lone easel that I'd set up next to the window.
It holds the portrait that's meant the most to me. It's one of the ones that Dane cradled in his hands when he first saw my work.
I remember the day I drew it.
I remember the vulnerability in the woman's face when she looked at me and realized what I was doing.
It was then that she motioned for me to join her.
I did and as I stood next to her in the museum that morning, she told me about how she loved a man who accepted her exactly as she was. They were going to be married soon and live the life she'd always wanted. He was meeting her there, within the hour, to choose a new piece of artwork for their house from the gift shop. She wanted a print of a painting they'd both fallen in love with.
I'd stared at her face, soaking in the obvious joy she was feeling.
I'd hugged her tightly before I told her that I'd keep her in my good thoughts.
I scan the portrait of her hair cascading around her shoulders and her listless legs tucked under the blanket as she sat in the wheelchair she'd been in since she could remember.
As we said goodbye, she told me that she'd never felt the ground beneath her feet. She clasped my hands in hers and whispered in a shaky voice that on her honeymoon, the man she loved was going to carry her to the sand so she could see it between her toes. I'd smiled at the simplicity of that, knowing that it would be a gift that she'd keep inside of her forever.
Before I'd left the museum that day, I'd seen her again near the gift shop.
My breath catches in my chest as I remember the dark haired man who had crouched with his back to me in front of her. He'd pulled the blanket down slightly to reveal the curve of her stomach under the patterned blouse she was wearing and as he'd bent forward to kiss the top of her very swollen belly, she'd rested her chin against his hair.
"We’re having a baby boy," she had called across the crowded room towards me before I waved with a smile and walked away.
"When did you draw that?" Zoe's hand is on my shoulder. I know it's meant to offer comfort but I feel nothing at all.
I swallow hard.
I turn towards her and reach for her hand for support.
I feel my bottom lip quiver so I pull in a deep breath.
"I drew it the day before I met Dane."
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About the Author
Deborah Bladon has never read a romance hero she didn't like. Her love for romance novels began when she was old enough to board the bus, library card in hand to check out the newest Harlequin paperbacks. She's a Canadian by heart, and by passport, but you can often spot her in New York City sipping a latte and looking for inspiration for her next story. Manhattan is definitely her second home.
She cherishes her family and believes that each day is a gift for writing, for reading, and for loving.
EMBER - Part Two (The EMBER Series Book 2) Page 7