Second Chance with the Surgeon

by Robin Gianna

  The ache in his chest almost physically hurt, and he dropped his hand when he realized he’d been unconsciously rubbing it over his sternum, as though he could somehow soothe his stupid broken heart. He’d have expected that after nearly a year apart he wouldn’t be reminded of her by the least thing, but obviously he was nowhere near getting over Jillian Keyser.

  “You close to finalizing that deal with Urgent Care Manhattan to partner with us? That would be huge, if they could move in next door now that the space is vacant,” Bill said. “We’re all counting on you making it happen.”

  “I have a meeting with them today, as a matter of fact. Hoping to close on it soon—before our competition woos them with an offer they think they can’t refuse.”

  “I know you have a lot on your plate, but you’re still planning to be chairman once the companies merge, right? With you there, making sure they’re both managed the way they should be, I’ve got my check already written as an investor.”

  “Believe me, I’m going to make it happen and I’ll have them running as smooth as a Wall Street banker. So get your checkbook ready.”

  Conor took a last swig of coffee and headed toward the OR to find his surgery schedule. Studying the paper in his hand, he walked past several patients being prepped for surgery in cubicles only partly curtained off—and then the sound of a woman speaking caught his ears and he stopped dead.

  He turned to see the owner of the melodic voice and felt his heart drop into his stomach. Her body was wrapped in a hospital gown, her usual sweet smile was on her face, and her hair tumbled across her cheek as she exchanged comments with the prep nurse and an anesthesiologist.

  “Jillian? What the...?”

  She looked up and his eyes met the gorgeous ones he’d missed so much. A mesmerizing mix of green and gray and gold—like clouds on the horizon with the sunlight shimmering through.

  Damn it. The connection between them was still there. In spite of everything he could feel the electric zing of it, and his breath caught in his lungs.

  Then she blinked, and her gaze shifted to the hallway behind him. Her smile flatlined and her lips twisted into a grimace before she looked at him again, cool now, all that feeling of connection gone.

  “Oh. Hi, Conor. I... I broke my wrist. Distal radius fracture. Beth is putting in a plate and screws this morning to put it back together.”

  “How? What happened?”

  “I took the dogs for a walk. A couple of big dogs weren’t very friendly, Yorkie freaked out, and we got all tangled up—next thing you know, I’m flat on the sidewalk.”

  “Ah, hell. Is it your right hand?” He stepped closer to reach for it carefully, and the feel of her soft hand in his felt so good his heart got all twisted up—which bothered him no end.

  What was wrong with him? No matter how hard he’d fallen for her, he should never have married Jillian in the first place. He’d learned the hard way that he wasn’t husband material any more than his father had been, obviously having inherited his bad DNA. He’d had a selfish, cold father and a mother who’d twisted herself into knots trying to somehow make his father happy—until the day he’d left. Which had made a bad home situation dramatically worse.

  Their eyes met again, and he knew the pain and sadness he saw there had nothing to do with her wrist and everything to do with him. God knew he’d wanted his own marriage to be different. But she’d been right to leave. The last thing a special woman like Jillian needed was to be tied to a man who made her miserable.

  Except he couldn’t lie to himself. In the ten months since she’d been gone he’d thought of her every day and every night, missing her even as he’d forcibly reminded himself how much he’d hurt her. Disappointed her.

  “Yeah. No fun, but I’ll get through it.”

  “Titanium time!” Dr. Beth Crenshaw appeared in the curtained doorway with a grin that faltered a little when she saw Conor standing there. “Hey, Conor. Surprise, surprise, huh?”

  “Definitely a surprise.” It took some effort to release Jill’s hand before he folded his arms across his chest. “Why is it no one has told me this happened? That Jill is having surgery here today?”

  “Because I asked her not to tell you,” Jill said in a stiff voice. “No reason for you to know.”

  The truth of that stabbed his chest all over again. “Maybe not, but I would have liked to know anyway. Who’s taking you home post-op?”

  As soon as he asked the question his heart jolted. If she had a new guy Conor hoped and prayed he wouldn’t have to see him with her in Recovery.

  “I asked Ellie next door. She’s the only person I know who has a car.”

  “Wait. Isn’t she the one who’s about eighty and has a bum knee?”

  Her lips twisted again, this time in a wry smile. “I know it’s not ideal, taking advantage of her good nature when she has a tough time getting around. But they won’t let me take a taxi by myself, as you well know.”

  “You should have told me you were having trouble finding someone,” Beth said. “I can take you home. You’ll just have to hang around in Recovery until the end of the day. You’ll still be partially out of it for a bit, anyway. I assume you have a friend to take care of you tonight? You know you shouldn’t be alone.”

  “I think Kandie from the other office is planning to stop by and check on me at some point. And my sister’s coming sometime later this week. But she’s got a big project at work and can’t take off right now.”

  “I can’t believe you haven’t figured all this out already.” Conor looked from Jill to Beth, then back. “She’ll be coming back tomorrow to get the cast off, right? And what about the dogs? Plus, your sister’s work schedule is almost as bad as mine, so how can you count on her to get here soon?”

  “You know, I appreciate your concern, but frankly I don’t see how this is any of your business,” Jill said, her chin jutting out with that mulish look he was all too familiar with. At the same time he could see plain as day that she felt anxious about how she was going to manage everything post-op. “The dogs and I will be okay.”

  “Considering you’ve seen hundreds of patients, and know how they feel the day the cast comes off and you work with them to make a splint, I’m pretty sure you know how much pain you’ll likely be in. How completely non-functional your arm and hand will be at first. Hudson’s a big lug—not to mention there’s no way you can take them outside for a walk. Not for quite a while—until your bones and the titanium plate and screws have fused. If you fall again before that happens it could be a disaster.”

  “I won’t fall. And there are dog-walking services, you know,” Jill said. “I... I didn’t think to look one up before surgery, but I’m sure I can find one. And, like I said, Briana is coming as soon as she can.”

  “Let me check to see if there’s a nurse or one of the office staff who wouldn’t mind making some cash by helping you tonight and bringing you back tomorrow. Walking the dogs, too,” Beth said, looking from him to Jill, then back. “Meanwhile, we have to get you into twilight sleep and to the OR—or the whole day’s schedule will be messed up, which nobody wants.”

  Obviously Beth’s calm tone was designed to keep Conor from getting upset about this, but it wasn’t working. Jillian might not be his anymore, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still care about her. Wouldn’t worry about her.

  “I have a light surgery schedule this morning, so I can take you home,” he said. “Though I do have a—”

  Abruptly, he closed his mouth. He’d almost followed his comment about taking her home by telling her he had an appointment at one o’clock with some of the decision-makers from Urgent Care Manhattan, to go over the details of the potential collaboration with HOAC. Telling her that he’d take her home when the meeting was over. But his work and business schedules had been part of the reason why she’d left and how badly he’d failed her.

 
But this was an emergency, damn it. Much as he hated any delay in getting the deal closed, his competitor shut out and the urgent care department up and running, he’d just have to reschedule the meeting.

  “I’ll come to Recovery as soon as I’m done with my last surgery and I’ll take you home. Get you settled.”

  “Conor, no.” Despite her obvious need, her beautiful eyes widened in clear dismay. “I—”

  “Perfect,” Beth interrupted cheerfully. “I’ll meet you in Recovery. And now, Jill, it’s time for Dr. Fixit to fix you up.”

  Jillian opened her pretty lips to protest more, which tightened his chest. Was it really that horrifying for her to have to spend a few hours with him?

  Conor watched the anesthesiologist administer twilight anesthesia through Jill’s IV. Her long lashes swept her cheeks as her lids slid closed, and he forced himself to turn away from her beautiful face in sweet repose. She looked very much as she had back when he’d held her in his arms every night as she fell asleep.

  Damn. That ache pressed in on his chest again, but at the same time his heart strangely, bizarrely, lifted. He was going to get to be with her this evening for the first time in nearly a year. Drugged up and in pain, she wouldn’t be like the smiling Jillian he’d loved. But knowing that she needed help, that he could be there for her at least for a few hours, made him feel better than he’d felt in a long time.

  And never mind that the hollow loneliness he knew he’d experience when he went back to his regular life without her in it might feel every bit as bad as when she’d first left.

  CHAPTER TWO

  CONOR DOUBLE-PARKED IN the loading zone outside Jillian’s apartment building and prayed he wouldn’t get a ticket—or, worse, towed. Presumably it wouldn’t take long to get her into her apartment and comfortable, and he could get the car to the parking garage down the street after that.

  He jumped out of the car and ran around to open the passenger door. “Okay, I know you’re still feeling weak and weird, so I’m going to hold you up in case your legs feel wobbly.”

  Her eyes blinked up at him and she nodded. He reached into the car to place his hands around her waist, pretty much lifting her out of the seat—which wasn’t easy, considering she couldn’t help much and he was worried about jostling her arm. Not that he needed to be concerned that he’d hurt her. It was covered in a cast and an elastic cover and would stay totally numb from the nerve-block for at least twelve hours.

  “You’re doing great,” he said as she walked slowly beside him to the front doors of the building, keeping his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her steady.

  Thank God he’d had the foresight to get her keys before they got out of the car. It would have been a serious juggling match trying to get them out of the pocket of the jacket he’d draped over her shoulders without her falling down right there on the concrete steps.

  Once they were in the building, maneuvering her to her apartment wasn’t difficult. He’d only been there once—the day he’d brought the dogs over to live with her after she’d moved out—but he remembered exactly where it was. Had often pictured her there when he was lying in bed at night. Wondering how she was doing. Wishing he was a different kind of man. Wishing things could have gone differently for them. Wishing she hadn’t stubbornly refused any money from him so she could live in a bigger place. He had hoped she was happier now, even as the thought of her being happy with someone else tore him up inside.

  The moment he unlocked her door he heard the dogs running across the hardwood floor. Worried that Hudson might accidentally knock her over in her current wobbly state, he turned her sideways and put his body in between them as a buffer, reaching to scratch the dog’s head.

  “Sit, Hudson. That’s a good dog. Good boy.”

  It tugged at his heart that the dog obviously remembered him, whining and thrashing his tail back and forth so hard his hind end went along with it. Yorkie leaped up and down on his short legs, too, equally excited to see him.

  Damn it. Letting down Jillian had been the worst, but the dogs’ happy greeting reminded him he’d let them down, too. She’d wanted them to have dogs and he’d gone along with it. Had wanted her to be happy. Wanted to know what it would be like to live a completely different kind of life from the one he’d grown up in. To love someone who loved you back and have a family that was always there for one another.

  Instead he’d turned out to be a bad husband and bad dog dad, incapable of giving any of them what they needed. Thank God they hadn’t had children for him to hurt, too. He’d failed at being there for his mother the way he should have been, and he had failed at being there for Jillian.

  That dismal reality had shown him that the focus of his life had to be only on what he was good at—and that was surgery and business and building his bank account and portfolio. Lonely, maybe, but at least he wouldn’t hurt the people he loved. He believed providing for them financially, for their future, was the best way to show his love.

  Jillian hadn’t agreed.

  “Sit. Sit, you two.”

  He held up his hand to signal that he meant it, the way the dog trainers had shown him and Jill when they’d first gotten the puppies. Jillian tripping over the excited animals on their way to the sofa would not be good, and he was both glad and surprised that they actually did as he told them to.

  “Jill, we’re going to walk to the sofa. I’ll be holding on to you, so try not to trip over Yorkie if he jumps around again.”

  “Okay. I’m not as unsteady as you think I am.”

  “That’s good. But I’ll hold on to you anyway.”

  Because the feel of her body in his arms felt better than anything had in a long time, even as the ache of his failures burned in his chest.

  He eased her down on to the sofa. “You feel like sitting for a while? Or do you want to lie down in bed?”

  “I feel okay. Just groggy. But I want to wake up, not go to sleep. Once I’m feeling more alert you can head on home. Or back to work, probably.”

  “I don’t have any surgeries or patients to see this afternoon. And I canceled a meeting I had scheduled, so I’m all yours.”

  Or he had been once.

  But for today, at least, he had this chance to be there for Jillian in a way he hadn’t during their marriage, although at the same time he somehow needed to keep a cool head and an emotional distance. Except looking at her now, with her arm in its huge cast, her hair all messy and her expression a little vulnerable, he wanted to scoop her into his arms, sit on that sofa and hold her close. Kiss her face and stroke her hair until she relaxed against him.

  Bad idea for both of them.

  He cleared his throat. “You hungry? How about a little soup and toast, or something like that?”

  “Maybe in a little bit. I’ll just sit here for now. Why don’t you take the dogs out? Their leashes are in that basket by the front door.”

  “Okay. Come on, you goofs.”

  Wagging tails and little leaps from Yorkie had him smiling despite the weight he felt in his chest at being here. At the memories of him and Jill during happy times together. He’d never expected to be a dog person, but he had loved spending time with them. Loved seeing how much Jill enjoyed them. In some ways that seemed like a long time ago, and in other ways it seemed like yesterday that they’d lived together and loved one another until it had all imploded.

  Heaving a sigh, he took the dogs outside. They were better behaved on their walk than he remembered them being as puppies, and he had time to ponder how it was going to work out, him helping Jill. He was pretty confident that she’d be okay on her own most of the time, so long as he saw her every morning and evening and took care of the dogs until her sister showed up.

  Problem was her apartment was a long way from work, while his was just a couple blocks away from the surgery center. Somehow he’d have to find extra hours in the day, or l
ook for someone to walk the dogs.

  The animals were panting by the time they got back to Jill’s door, and he pulled her key from his pocket and tried to open the door quietly, in case she was sleeping—then wondered why he’d bothered when both dogs leaped into the room, making all kinds of racket on the wood floor.

  Her eyes were closed when he looked across the room at her, but her lids lifted and she sent him a surprisingly sweet smile. Probably because the drugs hadn’t worn off enough for her to remember that she didn’t like him much anymore.

  “Seems like you just left. Were the dogs good?”

  “Really good. You’ve done a nice job training them.”

  “Don’t think I can take a lot of credit. They just needed to mature a little bit. But they still have their moments, believe me.”

  “Moments like when they get upset at other dogs and get tangled up and make you fall and break your wrist?”

  “Yeah. Like that.”

  Her lips curved even more, into the kind of laughing smile he’d fallen for like a ton of bricks when they’d first met, and it felt good to smile back.

  He stepped closer and crouched down in front of her. “How you feeling?”

  “Arm feels like someone attached a log to me. Can’t feel it at all yet. Sometimes I forget and lean down, then it swings out and I have to grab it back. I know you always tell patients that’s what it’ll feel like, but I’ve gotta tell you... Much as it makes me want to laugh when I lose control of it, it feels super-weird.”

  “It’ll be numb like that for at least another eight or nine hours. Then it’ll feel tingly, like you’ve laid on it funny and it’s gone to sleep. Then it’ll finally feel normal.”