by Jordan, Skye
She opened her arms to hug Emma, but Emma had her hands full and couldn’t exactly hug her back. That didn’t seem to matter to Miranda. She gave Emma a warm, solid hug, then pulled back, gripping Emma’s arms.
“I would have liked to have met you when we were actual sisters-in-law, but I’m just happy I finally get to meet you. You may not remember, but we’ve crossed paths at Gypsy’s a time or two.”
Emma put the tray down and wiped her hands on her old jeans. “I remember. You’re a bartender.”
“Yup.” She crossed her arms. “You made a great decision to renovate. Homes are selling almost faster than they can get on the market in this neighborhood.”
“I really wasn’t sure about it,” Emma admitted, “but Dylan made a compelling argument.”
“Dylan?” Another woman’s voice broke into the conversation from the living room.
“Uh-oh.” Miranda turned her attention on Dylan and her pretty face broke into a big smile. “I see diaper duty coming your way.”
“Back here,” Dylan called, then smiled at Emma. “Guess you’re meeting the whole family at once.”
Gypsy appeared in the doorway, holding her baby boy, Cooper, her hair up in a messy bun, no makeup, frazzled expression. “Oh, thank God.”
Emma had never seen the boy and now couldn’t take her eyes off him. The baby might only be a few months old, but his resemblance to Dylan was unmistakable. He had dark hair and big light eyes. The rest was more nuance, the boy’s look as a whole. Emma never could quite figure out how a chubby-faced baby could so clearly resemble his or her parents, but there was no mistaking this boy’s Wright heritage.
Gypsy’s gaze found Miranda, then Emma. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know everyone would be here.”
“Give me this monkey,” Dylan said, reaching for the baby. “Gyp, this is Emma.”
Gypsy’s smile was as authentic as Miranda’s. “We’ve sort of met.” She came toward Emma with the same warmth as her sister and pulled Emma into a bear hug. “I’m so happy to finally formally meet you.”
Emma hugged her back. Her bewildered gaze met Dylan’s over Gypsy’s shoulder, and he was grinning like an idiot. And, to Emma’s surprise, so was Miranda. She had the sudden and swamping sensation of having a brand-new, amazing family. Just as fast, regret slid in.
After she and Dylan married, Emma’s family had moved back to Tennessee, and Dylan’s father had been deployed to Afghanistan. Emma wondered if having this kind of family support when she and Dylan had been so young would have made a difference. If they might have found a way to stay together.
Gypsy turned to Dylan with a look of regret. “I’m so sorry to ask, but can you watch him for a few hours? My prep cook called in sick, and I haven’t found anyone to cover him. I’ve got to get food ready for tonight, and I just can’t do it with Cooper.”
“Of course. You never have to be sorry. I’ll always watch him.” He took Cooper by the waist and lifted him into the air. “We have fun together, don’t we Coop?”
The baby only had eyes for Dylan. He smiled and gurgled, making the other women laugh.
“Christ,” Miranda looked at Gypsy. “That boy is so damn spoiled.”
“Which is exactly the way it should be.” Dylan brought the baby close again and looked at his sisters. “You two get out of here so I can boss Emma around while I play with Coop.”
Miranda gave Emma’s arm a squeeze. “Keep him in line.”
“I’ll make it up to you.” Gypsy repeated Miranda’s gesture with a warm hand on Emma’s arm and a conspiratorial smile. “You two look good together.” To Dylan she said, “His diaper bag and jumpy seat are by the back door.”
“Got it.”
The sisters made their way down the hall and out of the house, but Emma couldn’t take her eyes off the sight of Dylan and Cooper.
“Cute, right?” Dylan asked, smiling at Cooper.
“Wow,” Emma said on an exhale. Emotions swirled in her chest and tightened her throat.
“What’s wrong?”
Emma tore her gaze away from Cooper. “Nothing.” She picked up the trowel and trough. “Do you want me to keep working on this, or is there something else you want me to do?”
“Em.” He took her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look at him. His voice was soft, his gaze worried. Cooper’s sweet baby scent made her heart hurt. “What is it?”
God, she couldn’t breathe. “He just…he looks so much like you.”
Dylan released her chin and cupped her face, his gaze confused. Cooper cooed and brought his pudgy little fist to his mouth.
The sound, the sight…it twisted a knife in her chest. “This should be us.” The words came out weak. “This should all be ours—the house, the baby, your sisters, a full family. This should be us.”
His eyes sparked with excitement, filled with love. He stepped closer, stroked a hand down her arm. “It can be. It absolutely can be.” His voice was deep and serious. “We can have it all. Each other, all the babies we always wanted, a home, the rest of our lives together. I love you, Emma. I’ve always loved you.”
His words opened a spring inside her, and tears fell. It was a bittersweet pain. So bitter. So sweet. Everything she’d always wanted. Way too late.
“We could have had everything, but you veered off that path. You put distance and time between us. When we should have been growing together, we were growing apart. Our lives have taken completely different directions. If there was one thing you taught me, it’s that love alone isn’t enough. Not near enough. We’re different people now. We can’t just leap across time and distance and be together again because we have feelings for each other. That’s not the only thing a lifelong relationship is made of. You should know that by now.”
“I know love alone isn’t enough. I do. But that’s not all I’m offering. There may be nothing I can do about the past, but there is a lot I can do to make our future years amazing. I know we’re different people with different lives, but we can make it work.”
Cooper cooed happily, and his soft little hand found Emma’s face. The sweet sensation pried Emma’s heart open. She took the boy’s open hand and kissed his palm, breathing in his baby scent.
She hadn’t thought of having kids since she left Germany. Not even when she’d agreed to marry Liam. But just being in proximity to a boy with Dylan’s DNA swimming through his body made the old desire bloom inside her like an ache.
Dylan slipped his free arm around Emma’s waist and pulled her close. The baby between them seemed to complete the circle. Emma could so easily imagine this scenario with her own baby fulfilling her life in a way she hadn’t believed possible in nearly a decade.
She was exhausted from trying to keep Dylan at arm’s length—emotionally and physically. Now, she relaxed, and Dylan was right there to support her. Emma pressed her face to his neck and breathed him in.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “I’ve got you, Em.”
15
Dylan picked up the last two-by-four cluttering the room and tossed it into another bedroom. He stood back to look at the space, now ready for reframing. With the walls between the bedrooms gone, the space was massive and perfect for a Jack-and-Jill bathroom.
In the living room, Emma giggled. The sound spilled through him like a miracle drug, healing a heart he’d believed would be broken forever.
Once she’d taken Cooper in her arms, she hadn’t let him go. She’d been sitting in the living room on the cushions where they’d made love far too long ago, playing with the baby for almost two hours. She’d fed him, changed his diaper, and had him giggling right along with her the entire time.
Dylan had always known she would be an incredible mother. He was inching closer to being able to share that joy with her. And, God, there was nothing he wanted more. He just had to figure out how to prove to her that he’d changed. That he was all-in. That, short of death, he’d never leave her again.
He wandered down the hall and into the
living area, where he leaned his shoulder against the wall and watched Emma with Cooper. Her face absolutely glowed. Her eyes sparkled. The diaper bag sat close by, and a half dozen toys lay on top of the sleeping bag.
She glanced at Dylan. “How’s it going?”
The joy on her face made his stomach float. The way she was feeling right now was how he wanted to make her feel every day for the rest of their lives.
“Good.” He moved toward them and took a seat beside her. “Demo and cleanup are done. Now we frame it up and get the plumber to run the lines. Then I can put it back together. Taking it apart is fast, but putting it back together is slow.”
Emma held the baby upright in front of her, and his little feet pushed against her leg, making him bob.
“You’re getting strong, little guy,” Dylan said. “Bet you’ll be walking next week.”
Emma laughed. “He is surprisingly strong.”
Cooper gurgled and reached for Dylan’s face. Emma let the boy angle toward Dylan, and he took the baby from Emma.
“I have to go soon,” she said. “My shift starts at three.”
“Okay.”
“I know it’s still early in the process, but how long do you think the renovation will take?”
His mind turned that direction. He thought of plumbing and electrical changes, insulation and drywall, bathrooms and kitchen, flooring. “Without any snags, three months. With snags, maybe five months. Why?”
“Vanderbilt wants an answer.”
“I thought you said it was the best in the area.”
“It is.”
“Then why do you look disappointed?”
She took a deep breath and seemed to consider her words before she spoke. “I was hoping to take something overseas.”
“Aren’t you going to Honduras for a month with Maizey?”
“I was, but I thought that, depending on when I could pay off my student loans, I might be able to jumpstart my dream and take something long-term now.”
“I thought we—”
“We did talk about it. And I don’t want you to think I ignored everything you’ve said, because I haven’t. I’ve given all your experience serious thought.”
“But…”
“I want to experience it myself.”
Well, fuck.
Cooper reached for her, and she took his hand. “If I had no desire to do anything else, I’d take the job at Vanderbilt. But I feel like I’ve waited forever to do something that makes a difference. Something that moves the needle. And, honestly, over the last few years, watching you live your dreams—literally watching you—it makes me want to live mine even more.”
Panic blipped on his radar. Dylan didn’t do panic. Where he was from, you panic, you die. But the pinch in his chest was the first talon of panic digging in.
“What organization are you looking at serving with?” he asked. “Doctors without borders?”
“No. They require two years of practice post-residency.” She averted her gaze and picked up one of Cooper’s toys. “There’s an organization that’s been on my radar. They’ve been spotlighted in emergency medical journals and documentaries. International First Responders. Have you heard of them?”
A streak of heat cut through his chest. His mind rolled back in time, to dark streets, the roar of jet planes overhead, the thunder of collapsing rubble, Amir drowning in his own blood.
A wildly protective urge built in his chest. He did not want Emma out there, not like that.
“Um… I’m sorry, I’m just…” He was afraid that anything he said would give her the impression he was holding her back. But he couldn’t let this go unsaid. “Yes, I know them. I’ve done several interviews with people working for the organization.”
“Really?”
The excitement in her voice intensified his need to protect her. “Emma, do you understand what they do?”
“They respond to urgent situations and care for critically injured.”
“Those critically injured come from places with active conflict.”
“Hence, the need for urgent care,” she pointed out in a way that said she shouldn’t have had to point it out.
“Don’t get me wrong, they do amazing work. But they’re in the eye of the storm, constantly in danger.”
“I’m a doctor of emergency medicine. I’m always in the eye of the storm.”
“But in America, you’re not constantly in danger.”
The spark of argument flared in her eyes.
He put up a hand. “Okay, let me tell you…” Fuck he didn’t want to do this. “I need to tell you what happened right before I came home.”
She waited. Cooper was dozing in the crook of his arm. Dylan used his skills in television to ground himself and find focus. He’d need it to keep himself together.
“Overseas, most correspondents have someone called a fixer. A fixer is essentially a liaison between a foreign correspondent and their own culture. Many are also journalists in their own right. They often act as translators. Mine was a Syrian named Amir.” Dylan closed his eyes. “He was phenomenal.”
“Was?” she asked softly.
Dylan blew out a breath. “He’d picked up information about an attack Assad had planned to take out the Syrian Defense Volunteers, people much like the IFR, who respond to incidents to get the injured to help. Amir and I were on our way to one of the safehouses where the volunteers had relocated when fighter jets came through the area.”
She lifted her knees and wrapped her arms around them. Her eyes were big and bright and scared. And that made him feel guilty. She shouldn’t be scared of living her dream. And he shouldn’t be the one discouraging her. But he also knew the reality.
“To make a horrible story short, in the process of aiming at the safehouse, one of the bombs missed the target and exploded near Amir. He…died. Bled out in my arms.”
“Oh, Jesus. Dylan…” She pressed a hand to her forehead.
Dylan didn’t meet her eyes. Couldn’t. It was the only way to keep himself together to finish. “The reason I’m telling you this is because after the Syrian Defense Volunteers were killed, the organization I called for help was the IFR. The only other living, breathing humans not in a bunker at the time were members of the IFR.”
He took a second, then continued. “Don’t get me wrong, they do good work. Important work. But to be honest, they’re overzealous, and coming from me, that’s saying something.” He reached out and curled his hand around hers. “Amir’s safety was my responsibility. I should have made him go to ground with our cameraman. I knew his loyalty would make him fight, but I should have fought harder. I failed him. And I’m not going to do the same thing with you. You’re a big girl. If you want to make that decision knowing what you know, that’s your choice. But I’ve been there, I’ve lived it, and I can’t stay quiet.”
Emma rolled to her knees and wrapped her arms around him. And in her arms, he found a measure of peace. He was home, with his family and the woman he loved. This was exactly what Amir wanted. That much, Dylan had done right.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, holding him tight. “I can’t even imagine.”
He pulled back and cupped her face with his free hand. “Please consider Vanderbilt. It would be a great place to start. In two years, when you have the experience DWB requires, then reassess your options.” He kissed her and pressed his forehead to hers. “Two years will fly by.”
“And where will you be in two years?”
The fact that she cared enough to ask warmed his heart.
“I’ll be right where you are, baby.” He kissed her temple. “Right where you are.”
16
Emma tapped her stylus against the screen of her pad. Her shift in the ER was almost over, but her mind was very far away. It had been two days since she’d seen Dylan. Her schedule had given her only enough time to sleep and get back to the hospital. And time to think. Probably too much time to think.
In her pocket, her phone dinged wi
th a message. She pulled it out and smiled at another text from Dylan. They’d been texting constantly, mostly about the house, but Dylan managed to slip in sweet, sexy comments all over the place.
Look at these French doors. I know how you love them. We could open up the doorway from the breakfast nook to the backyard and put them in. What do you think?
He left a link to the image on the Pinterest board, and she tapped on it, but she wasn’t looking at the doors. She was remembering the utter sweetness of the way he’d walked her to her car two days ago and enveloped her in a hug, including Cooper. How she’d kissed him goodbye, then kissed Cooper.
“We can have it all. Each other, all the babies we always wanted, a home, the rest of our lives together. I love you, Emma. I’ve always loved you.”
His words both thrilled and terrified her, the way she felt when Maizey had taken her rock climbing. But with Dylan, there was no belay. It felt a lot more like she imagined free climbing would.
They’re beautiful, but do they fit into the budget? she typed.
Her mind drifted back into deep thought. The ER was relatively quiet, with only a few rooms filled. All but one patient of Emma’s had been discharged. The other was waiting for surgery.
Liam had continued to avoid her since she’d called off the wedding and returned the ring. She didn’t blame him. She still hated herself for leading him down the wrong path. Her heart had known; her brain just hadn’t gotten the memo. And that made her worry it was happening again—this time with Dylan, only in the opposite direction.
Someone stepped up to the counter where Emma was working. She looked up and found Lisa Belleview, one of the ER charge nurses. “Hey, Lisa.”
She rested her arm on the counter. “I heard you’re interested in Doctors Without Borders.”
The ER staff was like one big functional-dysfunctional family. If Emma ever wanted anything to stay private, she never talked about it here. But her desires were well known. “Eventually. I need two years out of residency before they’d consider me.”