Private Partners

by Gina Wilkins

  “And I did. But that doesn’t mean I chose to cut them from my life. Despite dreading the initial confrontations, I always assumed they would come around eventually. That they would concede my choice of a mate and accept you into the family. But that’s not what you had in mind at all, is it?”

  “I guess I just didn’t think that far ahead,” he muttered. “You and I get along pretty well on our own. We don’t need their interference.”

  “So you really do see it as a competition,” she whispered. “You always have, haven’t you? You want me to choose between you and my family.”

  He met her eyes from across the room without saying anything. His silence, she supposed, was an answer in itself.

  She shook her head slowly. “You know what, Liam? I always believed I was the cowardly one, always worrying about failing or disappointing someone or not living up to my potential. I thought you were fearless. Nothing seemed too risky or impossible for you. You wanted something and you went after it, simple as that. I always admired you for that courage—but it worried me, too. I was afraid you would get tired of dealing with my fears. That you deserved someone as reckless and self-confident as you are.”

  She held up a hand when he started to speak, her heart pounding as she faced him in anger and pain. “I’ve come to realize lately that you aren’t nearly as brave as I always thought you were. All those times you took off on your world travels? Were you really chasing adventures—or were you really running away from potential problems? My family, your own past, a real commitment to this marriage you rushed us into. Why did you marry me, Liam? And why do you stay married to me when you don’t want to deal with everything that comes with me?”

  He started to answer, then fell silent, his face pale and grim as he continued to knead his taut stomach. “This really isn’t the time to get into all of that,” he said after a tense pause. “We’re both tired, and we’re likely to say things we don’t mean. I’ll head back to New York so you can concentrate on your studies for now, and we’ll deal with all of this after your Step 1 exam.”

  She wondered if it were possible to hurt any worse than she did at that moment.

  “You want me to study? Fine. I’ll study. That should make both you and my father happy!”

  Leaving him wincing, she stormed into the office and slammed the door behind her.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Little Rock airport was nearly deserted at 4:00 a.m. Thursday. Most of the other early arrivals wandered through the glass doors looking sleepy and a little grumpy. The recorded messages were entirely too cheery that early in the morning, earning more than a couple of scowls in the general direction of the speakers. The glare of fluorescent lights was harsh against the predawn darkness outside.

  Liam sat on a padded bench, trying to get up the energy to check his bags. There were no lines yet at the security checkpoints, so it wouldn’t take long to pass through and find his departure gate. He assumed he could get a cup of coffee somewhere on the way.

  His aching stomach rebelled at the very thought.

  He wasn’t sure what hurt the most. His stomach or his chest. And he wasn’t sure he couldn’t blame both pains on the way he had left Anne.

  She hadn’t gotten up when he’d slipped out after a sleepless few hours on her couch. He didn’t know if she’d awakened with his movements or not, but if so, she hadn’t said anything. He doubted that she’d had an easy time falling asleep last night; he hoped she’d manage to rest enough to get her through her classes that day.

  Heaving a sigh, he reached for the handle of his suitcase, then sat back again when nausea roiled deep inside him. Damn it, he didn’t need this now. He felt bad enough about the quarrel he’d had with Anne. Did he really need this stomach virus or whatever it was to make him feel even worse?

  He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face with it. He wasn’t overheated, but he felt a little sweaty. Guilty?

  He scowled when the word popped into his mind. Why should he feel guilty? Despite Anne’s accusations, he had made the decision to leave based on what was best for her, not for himself. He was trying to reduce her stress level, not add to it. He still shuddered whenever he thought of how close they had come to walking straight into her parents at dinner yesterday. She could deny it all she wanted, but he knew she’d have been horrified had her family found out about them that way.

  He wanted to blame the pressure she was under for their quarrel the night before. Apparently, her study group had dealt with some sort of crisis last night and she’d still been stinging when she’d returned home, which perhaps explained her overreaction when she had seen his bags by the bed. Having her father call in the middle of the conversation certainly hadn’t helped anything. No matter what Anne said, talking to her father always left her edgy and tense.

  Which made it all the harder to understand why she wasn’t eager to put some distance between herself and her overinvolved family.

  Because she loved them. He scowled as the memory of her impassioned voice whispered through his mind.

  His stomach jerked and he pressed a hand against it, almost doubling over from the pain. Damn. Maybe Anne had been right. Maybe he should see a doctor. As soon as he got home, he would…

  Home.

  He pictured the empty apartment waiting for him in New York. Was that home? Was it a home if no one was there to welcome him back? If he went to bed alone every night and woke alone every morning?

  He felt more at home in a tent in some desert somewhere than he did at that apartment.

  So why was he going back?

  He inhaled sharply, losing patience with his own dithering. He’d made his decision. He was going back to New York. He’d made his choice.

  “You want me to choose between you and my family.”

  Anne had looked almost horrified when she had whispered that accusation. As if the very thought was almost more than she could bear.

  He didn’t like knowing he had been the one to put that expression on her pretty face.

  His stomach twisted again. Guilt could be damned painful, he thought with a scowl.

  Anne wasn’t in the mood to meet with her study group Thursday evening. She made a flimsy excuse to Haley and decided she would study at home alone that night. Not that she expected to get much done, even though she would have the place to herself. No one there to interrupt or distract her.

  How could she concentrate on slides and figures when her heart was breaking?

  Was her marriage over? Had it ever really had a chance? What had made them believe they could make a marriage work under those ridiculous circumstances?

  She couldn’t choose between Liam and her family. It was unconscionable of him to put her in that situation. If he really knew her, if he truly understood her, he would know she couldn’t—wouldn’t—be backed into that corner.

  She wished she could be angry with him. Instead, she was almost numb with pain. And somehow, she had to put that aside and concentrate on her studies. It was going to take a superhuman effort.

  “Hi, Dr. Easton!”

  Anne stifled a sigh as she nodded in response to Rose’s cheery greeting. “Hello, Rose. Hi, Parker.”

  The little boy grinned and waved a dirty hand at her in recognition.

  “We’ve been to the playground,” Rose said by way of explaining her son’s grubby appearance. “I’m taking him in for a bath now.”

  “He looks like he had a great time.”

  “He did. I haven’t seen Lee around lately. Parker always looks for him when we come out to the lot.”

  Anne just didn’t have the energy to explain that Liam wouldn’t be around again for a while. If ever.

  “Excuse me,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound rude. “I have to make a phone call.”

  Rose didn’t take offense easily. “Sure. We’ll see you around, Doc.”

  Sticking her key into the lock without enthusiasm, Anne shuffled into her apartment—and then stopped cold just i
nside the door.

  Liam was lying on her couch.

  She blinked to make sure she was seeing correctly. “Liam?”

  He lifted his head from the cushions. “I couldn’t leave it like that.”

  He looked terrible. His skin was colorless, there were hollows beneath his eyes and a fine sheen of perspiration glistened on his cheeks and forehead. She dropped her things and moved quickly toward him. “You’re sick.”

  “Yeah. But that’s not the point. I didn’t want to leave with you mad at me. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Liam.” She pressed a hand to his forehead and caught her breath. He was burning with fever.

  He was curled on his left side, his knees bent and slightly drawn up. “I never meant to add to your stress. I just wanted to help.”

  “I know. Can you lie on your back, Liam?”

  “Hurts.”

  “I know. Just try for a minute, okay?”

  He shifted, groaning with the effort. Anne lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal his lean abdomen, muttering to herself, “McBurney’s point is two-thirds of the distances from the umbilicus to the anterior superior iliac spine.”

  Finding what she hoped was that point, she pressed her fingers into his right side. “Does that hurt?”

  “Not too—” He gasped sharply when she released the pressure. “Yeah. Yeah, it hurts. Damn.”

  Rebound pain. Even a second-year medical student knew that sign. “Liam, we need to get you to the hospital. I’m pretty sure you have appendicitis.”

  And he’d probably been battling it for several days, she thought with a surge of guilt that the possibility had never even occurred to her before this. She’d been so caught up in her own problems and issues that she’d been all too quick to dismiss Liam’s illness as a minor stomach virus. The fact that he hadn’t really complained, even though he must have been suffering more than he’d let on, was no excuse.

  “Stomach bug,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’ll be okay. We really need to talk.”

  “We will,” she promised. “After you’ve seen a doctor. Can you sit up?”

  He started to rise, then sank back down with a moan. “Going to be sick.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She dashed to the kitchen for a plastic bowl, then hurried back to the couch.

  Liam was curled up again, his arm over his eyes. “I think it’s passing,” he muttered.

  “I’ll call for an ambulance.” She already had her phone in her hand and was dialing 911.

  “Don’t need ambulance. You can drive me.”

  “Liam, you can’t even stand up. I can’t carry you down to the car.” She only hoped the ambulance arrived before his appendix ruptured.

  Anne sat perched on the edge of the waiting room chair, her arms wrapped around her middle, her heart in her throat as she waited for news. Liam had been rushed into surgery only fifteen minutes earlier, and it was apparent from the haste with which the staff had acted that his condition was serious.

  Peritonitis, she thought with a catch in her breathing. If it had gone septic, Liam could very well be in critical condition.

  And she’d waved it off as a “bug.”

  She buried her face in her hands, a low groan escaping her as hot tears filled her eyes.

  “Anne? I got here as soon as I could. What’s wrong?”

  Lifting her damp face, she stood and threw herself into her father’s arms. “Daddy. Thank you for coming.”

  He hugged her tightly, obviously concerned by the tremors that ran through her. “Of course I came. You called and said you needed me here. I’ll always come when you call me. What’s wrong, sugar? You said you aren’t hurt. That was the truth, wasn’t it? I did what you asked, I told your mother that you just needed my help with something and that she shouldn’t be concerned, but I can tell by looking at you that something is very wrong.”

  “No, I’m not hurt.”

  “Is it one of your friends?”

  She bit her lip before saying, “You’re going to be angry with me, Dad, and that’s okay. You have every right to be. Just don’t yell at me right now, okay? I need your help.”

  Looking thoroughly confused, he drew back enough to search her face. “Why on earth would I be angry with you?”

  “You asked yesterday if I’ve been seeing someone?” When he nodded, she blurted, “I have been seeing someone, Dad. It’s Liam.”

  He stiffened. “Liam—You mean that McCright boy?”

  Clinging to his shirt, she nodded. “Yes. Liam and I got back together when I was in London, and we’ve been together ever since. He’s been here visiting me for the last few weeks. He was going to leave this morning, but he got sick. He’s having an emergency appendectomy now, and I think he’s already developed peritonitis.”

  Her father sank heavily onto the nearest chair, as if his knees simply wouldn’t hold up to this shock.

  She drew a ragged breath, figuring that was about as much as he could handle hearing just yet. “I was going to tell you all that he and I were together again, but then Mother had the stroke and she was so sick, and then the demands of med school were so overwhelming and I…well, I just couldn’t find the courage. It was stupid, I know, and there are more things I need to tell you, but…”

  Her breath caught on a sob. “I’ve made such a mess of everything. And now Liam’s in surgery and I don’t know how he’s doing. He looked so very sick when I brought him in. I’m really scared, Dad.”

  Her father looked torn between shock, anger and dismay. “I don’t know what to say, Anne. That you’ve actually been seeing him all this time, and you’ve never said a word about it…It’s just…”

  “I know. And I still haven’t told you everything—but I will. I’ve wanted to tell you so many times. I just didn’t know how,” she finished miserably. “You were so adamantly against Liam—against me being involved with anyone, actually. You were so sure I couldn’t handle both a relationship and medical school. And it hasn’t been easy, but it’s been working—for the most part. He’s been nothing but supportive of me, so careful not to interfere with my studies. He and I had a quarrel last night about that very thing.”

  “Last night? After I called you?”

  She nodded miserably. “He thought he should leave before you and Mom found out about us. I was ready to tell you the truth, but he thought it was too stressful a time for me and he wanted to wait until after Step 1. I told him he was just like you—always trying to make my decisions for me, for my own good, and we both got mad. And he was sick the whole time, but I was so wrapped up in my own pride and temper and worry about tests and classes and family issues that I hardly even noticed. What kind of doctor will I be if I’m so self-absorbed that I can’t see someone is suffering right in front of me?”

  She was crying now, racked with fear and guilt. Her father hesitated a moment, still dealing with his myriad reactions to everything she had just thrown at him. And then he put his own emotions aside and wrapped an arm around her. “You’ll be a very good doctor, Anne. No one expects you to be ready to practice during your second year of medical school. And maybe he didn’t tell you everything he was feeling?”

  “No,” she said with a sniffle. “He hardly complained at all. He said his stomach hurt and that he was a little queasy, but that’s pretty much all he told me. I thought he just had that stomach virus that’s been going around so much lately.”

  “Which is exactly what my first reaction would have been if that was all I was told. Was he running a fever? Did he complain of pain in his right side?”

  “No. When I got home from class today, he was lying on his side with his knees drawn up. He was running a high fever then, and complaining of nausea and pain. I finally considered what he might have and I did the McBurney pressure test. He had severe rebound pain, which is when I finally realized that he was seriously ill.”

  “You can’t blame yourself. Liam isn’t the usual age for appendicitis, and it sounds as if his symp
toms did not present in a typical fashion. That’s something you’ll learn with practice—typical is a very relative term when you’re dealing with individual patients. They don’t all fit on to a neat checklist of symptoms and signs.”

  “He’s been back there for a long time,” she said anxiously, twisting her hands in her lap. “What if the appendix ruptured? What if he’s developed sepsis?”

  Sepsis was an infrequent, but very serious complication from appendicitis. With sepsis, bacteria entered the bloodstream, traveling throughout the body. It could be life threatening.

  Her dad covered her hands with his own big, skilled hand. “Then he’ll be treated with IV antibiotics. You can probably tell me which ones.”

  “I don’t want to be quizzed right now, Dad,” she said with a groan. “I just want to know that Liam’s going to be all right.”

  He nodded and stood. “Wait here. I’ll go see what I can find out.”

  This, she thought, her breath catching on a last sob, was why she had called him. There was no surgeon, no physician she trusted more than her father. Now that he was here, Liam would be all right.

  She had to believe that.

  She knew there would be much more to be revealed to her family. More explanations, more apologies, more guilt-inducing recriminations from both her parents and probably her grandfather, too. But they would come around, just as she had always known deep inside that they would.

  Now if only she would have the chance to bring Liam around, to make him understand how important her family was to her. To convince him that loving them in no way detracted from how much she loved him. That being a part of her family, difficult though they could be, wasn’t such a terrible thing.

  The question was—did Liam love her enough to accept the whole package? Her family, her career, her strengths and her flaws? Or would it turn out that their whole marriage had been based on a youthful, passion-driven, fantasy-inspired impulse that could not stand up to the day-to-day challenges of the real world?

  Praying that she would have the chance to find out, she drew a deep breath and huddled more deeply into the chair to wait for news.