Doctor Bad Boy's Secret Baby_An Older Man Younger Woman Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  “So we’ll most likely have to take them off,” she says. She pauses. “We’ll have to take our tops. All five of us girls,” she says in a louder voice.

  The two guys at the table next to me spin around so fast I’d swear their chairs were on a swivel, or at least they’re necks. If I was a whiplash doctor I’d have two patients not more than a couple arms length from me.

  “Looks like these two fine gentleman might be interested in joining you and your friends,” I say, trying to get rid of her.

  “But I’m not interested in them. I’m interested in you,” she says as she leans in and whispers in my ear. “And I know my friends will be too, if you catch my drift.”

  “I think it’s time for me to drift on out of here,” I say. I stand and place the money on the table. “I’ll have to take a rain check on that last beer.”

  “Maybe tomorrow? We’ll have beers on the boat.” She won’t give up.

  Most guys would give their right arm for a few minutes with a girl who looks like her, let alone her and her five friends naked on a boat…or whatever it was she was offering. I missed most of it.

  But for me?

  I’d give anything for five minutes again with Matilda. Clothed. Naked. On a boat or on the North Pole. It doesn’t matter because I know we’d have fun anywhere, any time, any place.

  But where is she?

  And when will I see her again?

  If I can only figure out who, or what agency, placed her abroad.

  I walk back to my beach bungalow and I already know what I’m going to do next.

  Fire up the internet and search for my lost angel.

  I won’t stop until I find her.

  CHAPTER 18

  Matilda

  I step out of the Uber and walk up to the building.

  It’s almost impossible to believe this is where it all started just a few months ago. It was evening then and it’s morning now, but that’s about the only difference.

  I’m walking in to see the most incredible man that I’ve ever met. I didn’t know it then, but I sure do now.

  But I’m scared.

  What’s he going to think?

  Will he buy my story? It’s completely honest but it probably seems fishy. Lost my phone. Slow dial up so I couldn’t get in touch. I mean his office doesn’t have email, so I’ve got that working for me.

  But as big as all those things are and how much I’ll need him to trust in me and believe in me there’s something even bigger I have to tell him. I want to tell him, but I hope he just wants to hear the news.

  For all I know I’m long gone and long forgotten.

  And now I’m going to show up on his doorstep unannounced and tell him I’m pregnant with his baby?

  I didn’t even call ahead. His phone number was stored in my phone and when I tried to Google him, as I did when I first found him, his website was down for technical issues. For a guy who’s rich and successful he sure does a good job of keeping a low profile. It’s a wonder he even has clients, but maybe that’s the secret sauce right there. He’s only available to the luxuriously rich who have access to him through other people in that high-end network.

  I may not have access to that, but I certainly got the full effects of another kind of his secret sauce. The one that he put inside me and led me here today with my secret baby reveal.

  Jeez, this is worse than one of those Maury Povich insane paternity test revelation episodes.

  But this isn’t TV. This is my life.

  I walk up to the front door and ring the buzzer. I don’t hear anything ring inside. That seems different than last time.

  I hear a lock slide open and a woman sticks her head half way out of the door.

  “Can I help you?”

  It’s not the same receptionist as before.

  “Hi. I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m hoping to get in touch with Dr. Church.”

  “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any Dr. Church here,” she says.

  Did he see me on the monitor and give her instructions to get rid of me?

  “Is there another doctor I can talk to? Maybe Jane still works here? The nurse.”

  “Miss, this isn’t any kind of medical facility.”

  “But, this is—“

  “We really don’t have any information regarding what you’re looking for.”

  “But this was a doctor’s office just a few months back.”

  “Nor do we have information about previous tenants. You might want to try Google. Good day,” she says.

  She shuts the door and I take a step back.

  I’m completely confused. He has to be up there, right? He’s just avoiding me.

  I feel the tears start to come down, but I try and stay focused. I walk around the block and pull up Google maps, but this time I don’t look at the actual street view. I look at the more generic one that shows the businesses.

  Arbor Capital Hedge Fund shows up with one of those map push pins right where his office used to be.

  “Wealth management and estate planning for you and your family,” the tagline says.

  There’s a stock photo of some happy people of all ages and a diagram of a family tree. I guess the family tree is the whole point of their business.

  I read the end of the tagline again. “For you and your family.”

  There’s a button to press if you’re a big family, new family, or just starting out.

  But there’s no button for the family option called “going it alone.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Doctor Church

  Seven months later

  I towel off after a swim in the Caribbean and head back to my apartment.

  I thought Miami might be the cure, but it wasn’t. Now I’m going to give Nice, France a shot and see if that works out. My expectations are low, but having any expectations at all right now, no matter how low, are too high.

  My apartment is small with a bed and an ocean view. It’s all I need. And I need to condition myself to not being able to have what I want.

  It’s my new reality.

  The irony isn’t lost on me. I used to have it all. Money, my motorcycle, a fancy penthouse in addition to other homes and the best clinic in the world. And I really thought I did have it all.

  Until her.

  Once I had her, even for such a brief moment, it made me realize all the things I thought I had were for not. They mean nothing when you don’t have the right person to share them with and enjoy your life with.

  No amount of money or success even comes close. And I haven’t come close to finding her, but I’m not stopping.

  My weight and my strength have come back. I channeled all my anger at letting her slip between my fingers back into my workouts. I know I’m scaring everyone at the gym with my intensity and the amount of weight I’m lifting. I’ll have to buy home equipment at some point, but doing that now makes absolutely no sense.

  Because there is no home. Not without her.

  There are only places I eat, sleep, and shower. That’s all they are. And those aren’t even the most meaningful things I do in the places I stay.

  The most important thing I do each and every day and will continue to do is look for her. She can’t stay hidden from me forever.

  I sit down at my computer and take a sip of my coffee. I don’t need mental stimulation to stay focused on the task at hand, but I’ll take any additional mental clarity boosters I can get, and coffee is a solid choice.

  I need my mind as sharp as possible, and then somehow sharper, if I’m going to locate her.

  I pull up the webpage for Doctors Without Borders again, looking through their list of physicians. I login to their portal for doctors and see which ones have been to Togo over the last five years.

  It’s the same story…I’ve already contacted them all, and even hounded the few who didn’t respond to my first rounds of numerous requests for information until they relented.

  But no one had any information. That’s the thi
ng that drove me crazy.

  There’s no way she could have put together a coordinated effort of this magnitude to avoid me.

  Is there?

  She’s a smart girl without question, but there’s just no way she could coordinate with all those doctors.

  I open a new Internet browser tab and type in “Doctors Without Borders” but then stop.

  Google is offering me autosuggestions before I hit the enter key.

  Halfway down the list of about ten suggestions it says “Doctors Without Borders Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF).”

  Come again?

  I toggle down to that listing and click on it.

  No!

  I pull up Wikipedia and read the first page.

  “Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF), also known in English as Doctors Without Borders, is an international…”

  I stop.

  Doctors Without Borders is actually a French organization!

  Because I’m in France my browser must have offered me the alternate search results. How did I not know Doctors Without Borders is an Americanized name for a French organization?

  I click on their site and then click on the link with information about doctors who are interested in volunteering. They have both French and English versions. Yes! I click English and quickly submit all my particulars in regards to my name and medical credentials in order to gain access to the portal that only doctors and health care administrators can access.

  You should receive a reply within 24-48 hours. Thank you for your interest.

  I can see my hand shaking. Damn, I’m close! This could be my big breakthrough.

  I’ve tried this long so what’s another day or two to wait, right?

  Way too damn long! I don’t want to spend another second without her.

  I click around on the site looking for a phone number.

  I call and some woman answers in French.

  “Do you speak English?” I say frantically.

  “Excuse me, let me see if I can find someone for you,” she says.

  “Wait! Your English is…” She’s already gone.

  My foot starts tapping the floor.

  Where did she go? Her English was fine. Come back. Help me locate my woman!

  “Good morning, sir. I understand you speak English.”

  “Yes. English. I’m looking for someone.”

  “Okay,” the man says. I can hear through his voice that he’s smiling, nearly laughing, at my rushed response. I outta reach through that phone and deck him. If only he knew her…knew what she meant to me.

  “We’re not allowed—“

  “I’m a doctor! This is urgent.”

  “Have you submitted—“

  “It said to wait 24 - 48 hours. I don’t have that kind of time.”

  “Well if you can fax your particulars over I can have one of our assistants take a look and if everything checks out maybe we can get you approved earlier.”

  “Fax? Can’t I just email them?”

  “I’m sorry sir. To avoid fraud and identity theft we need an actual fax.”

  “Who uses faxes anymore?”

  “That’s the point, unfortunately. Plus the transmission allows us to see the originating country code.”

  “You’re in France, right?’

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “Where? Paris?”

  “I am in Paris, but our headquarters are in Geneva.”

  “One second, please.”

  I pull up a new Internet browser tab. After months of looking for her I’ve become an expert at Internet searching.

  I quickly find a flight to Paris and also locate their address.

  “You’re at 8, Rue Saint Sabin in Paris, correct?”

  “Sir, please. Stay calm and we’ll—“

  “Are you at 8, Rue Saint Sabin in Paris?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “There’s a flight out of Nice in ninety minutes. Eighty-eight minutes now. I’m on that flight and I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby when you get back from lunch.”

  “Sir, please—“

  I hang up the phone. I have no time for excuses. I only want to hear what I want to hear or nothing else. And if I don’t hear what I want I’m going to make it so that I do hear it.

  I book the flight and run for the elevator.

  With all the tourists in this part of the world I’m able to grab a cab right in front of my building and I’m gone in minutes.

  I’ve got my passport, wallet, my phone and a whole lot of hope.

  I feel like a detective who’s finally caught a break and I’m not going to let my suspect slip through my fingers this time.

  She’s no suspect, but with the way I’ve been acting since she left my life I completely suspect one thing.

  The one thing that I never would have believed possible.

  I found true love.

  CHAPTER 20

  Pierre

  Later that evening

  “Thanks for everything today,” Matilda says.

  She comes up on her tiptoes and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

  “You know I’m here for you whenever you need it.’

  “But unfortunately whenever is becoming way too often these days.”

  “It’s never too often.”

  She smiles and gives me a hug.

  “I’m going to go check on Andrew.”

  “Sounds good. Dishes will be done by the time you get back.”

  “You’re too much,” she says.

  “You’re too much. No go check on that beautiful son of yours.”

  She walks off toward the nursery. It was just a spare bedroom all these years so I’m glad it’s finally getting some use. It is meant for sleeping after all, I just never figured it would be a baby who’d be the one who’d actually be sleeping in there.

  I start in on the dishes thinking how nice it is to have Matilda back in the house. I’ve been here by myself for quite some times, only having company when she comes to visit, but now that visit is looking less and less temporary and more and more permanent. It’s a good thing. It’s nice to have her and her energy here. I still can’t believe whoever the guy was who got her pregnant was foolish enough to let her go. If I ever cross paths with that guy he better watch out.

  I hear the doorbell and look up at the clock. It’s well past eight in the evening, almost nine…definitely late for a visitor, and the whole door to door marketer or salesperson type of thing hasn’t really taken hold so I should probably answer it.

  I turn off the water and dry off my hands. Before I can reach the door the bell is already ringing again. Somebody’s in a rush.

  I arrive at the door and look through the peephole. What in the hell kind of motley crew is this? But it’s not a band of misfits it’s only one. The porch light has kicked on illuminating him so it’s clear to see that this is some sort of scam or robber or something. No sane person has…tattoos on his neck? Good grief.

  I quietly move away from the door knowing they’ll go away. In the meantime I’m going to phone it in to the police. Last thing we need is some hooligan in the neighborhood stealing and causing trouble. I’ve got a young woman and a baby to watch out for these days.

  I hear a knock on the window and freeze.

  “I see you in there. I just want to talk. I’m not as scary as I look.”

  Yeah right. I wouldn’t expect a bad guy to announce to the world he’s a bad guy. Luckily he’s already done it with all that ink on his skin and the hard look he gave through the peephole.

  I slide my socked feet along the floor. Better to slide through the house and out of view. He probably can’t see me anyways. This way I won’t make any noise.

  “I’m a doctor. I just need to talk. And I’m not leaving until I get a chance to say my peace.”

  I slide away a little more.

  “I see you, man. Come on! You can open the door or I can open it myself. I’m not leaving. I’m not here to hurt you. I’ll sleep on your fron
t step until you come out if I have to.”