Second Chance with the Surgeon

by Robin Gianna

Oh, yes, she was an idiot.

  The pain searing her heart was real, but Conor wasn’t at fault for the damage to that vital organ. This time he’d stated loud and clear who he was, and said that he couldn’t be anyone else. She’d known it but apparently had forgotten it. Or hadn’t wanted to believe it after she’d had a glimpse of what they’d shared in the beginning. Of why she’d fallen in love with him.

  She closed her eyes and sat very still, letting herself go back in time to when they’d first met. Those glorious early months of falling head over heels in love with each other. When every day together had seemed better than the last and the future had looked bright and brilliant.

  But it hadn’t been bright or brilliant. And now it was history. Over. Her wanting it to be different this time, believing it could be different, had been nothing but a foolish pipe dream.

  She got up and headed out the door. Hailed a cab, slid inside and shut the door. As she struggled to put on her seat belt she saw a tall blond figure running to the front doors of the hotel—only to stop and stare at her. Their eyes met, and then he quickly strode toward the cab as her heart lurched, her stomach roiled, and the tears threatened all over again.

  “Can we get going?” she said to the driver. “I need to get out of here. Now.”

  * * *

  Conor leaped up the steps to Jill’s apartment, his heart beating hard both because he’d been running, and because he feared how upset she might be. He’d blown everything sky-high, hadn’t he? Hadn’t shown up for the charity event. Just like so many times before.

  He tried to tell himself she hadn’t been miserable there alone. Probably hadn’t cared if he was there or not, since it had been supporting a cause she believed in. And she didn’t want to rekindle their relationship anyway, did she?

  But he knew he was a damn liar. It did matter. It all mattered. They’d grown close again—so close that he’d begun to wonder if maybe they could try again. If maybe he could be a different man.

  Making love with her, seeing her beautiful smile, being with her and sharing her joy in life, had had him feeling the best he’d felt since the day they’d married. And yet here he was again, being the jerk he’d known he couldn’t help being. Letting her down like he’d let his mom down. Like he’d let her down so many times before. Just like he’d told her he would.

  The meeting had dragged on with important business that couldn’t be put off. He’d been so focused on the debate and conversation he hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten until it was over. His heart had nearly stopped when he’d looked at his phone, and he had known he had no excuse to offer that was even close to good enough.

  Hard as it would be, he owed her a face-to-face apology. And he owed her his assurance—again—that she was the most amazing, most beautiful woman in the world, and it was only his massive failings that had ruined everything between them. Both in the past and tonight.

  He’d hoped for a closure between them that would be on a better note than the last, terrible one.

  He’d sure demolished the chance for that, hadn’t he?

  If she screamed at him and told him what a loser he was he’d give her the chance to vent—because he deserved it.

  He heaved a fortifying breath and knocked on her door. Knocked louder when she didn’t answer. “Jillian?”

  Still nothing. Would it be wrong of him to use the key he had? Would it scare her?

  His heart was beating so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest, and anxiety churned in his gut. He had to see if she was there. See if she’d let him apologize one last time.

  He slowly opened the door—then stopped cold when he saw her sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a robe, the arm with the splint resting in her lap. The eyes that met his didn’t hold the anger or condemnation or disgust he’d expected. No, they simply looked tired and beyond sad, and his throat closed at the defeated expression on her beautiful face.

  “Jilly...” He sat close in front of her, reaching for her good hand, and the soft feel of it in his made his chest hurt, knowing he’d never get to hold it again. “I’m sorry. I’m just so damn sorry.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, too. You should go now.”

  He had no idea what to say or do next, but getting up to leave before he’d let her know how he felt wasn’t an option.

  “I hope you know it’s me, not you?”

  “Yes, we’ve gone over this.”

  “And that you’re the most beautiful, amazing woman in the world and I love you.” It was true, and saying the words made his throat close again, but he forced out the rest of what he had to say. “I wish I could be different. But obviously I can’t. I don’t deserve you. I’m not good enough for you. You deserve so much more than a man like me.”

  “We’ve gone over this, too.” Her lips curved in a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Don’t worry, Conor. I understand. It’s simply time to say goodbye.”

  Her words were exactly what he’d been about to say, but they punched a hole in his chest and he couldn’t speak for a long moment.

  “If you stay in New York I promise I’ll keep my distance from you at work. It...it won’t be easy to be in the same building, but I want you to feel comfortable there. I don’t want you to leave on my account.”

  “I’ve been offered a job in Connecticut. I’ll be moving there soon.”

  He didn’t know what the weight in his chest meant, because he should be glad she’d found a new job. But the finality of not seeing her again felt unbearable. Somehow it was almost worse than ten months ago, which he wouldn’t have dreamed was even possible.

  But it was.

  “Do you...do you need help moving?”

  “Conor.”

  Her lips twisted and she looked at him as if he was pathetic, which he clearly was.

  “If I do, I don’t think you’ll be the person I call. We agreed earlier that this would be our last evening together, anyway. Let’s stick to that. I... I don’t want our goodbye to drag on any longer than it has to, you know?”

  He looked down at her hand in his and nodded. He should feel the same way, but knowing he’d be leaving this apartment in a matter of minutes and never seeing her again shoved the knife blade currently sticking into his heart another inch deeper.

  He lifted his gaze back to hers and stood, and was surprised when she stood with him.

  “Remember, always, how special you are,” he said.

  “You, too,” she said softly, shocking him by resting her hand against his cheek and giving him that sad smile again. “You’re special, too, Conor, in so many ways. And I hope you find happiness someday that is more than just work. I truly do.”

  Emotion clogged his throat. She didn’t hate him the way she had the last time they’d said goodbye, despite him deserving it. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close against him, just to feel her there one last time. When he made himself let her go he saw the sheen of tears in her beautiful eyes.

  He knew there was nothing else to say that hadn’t already been said. Somehow, he forced himself to turn and get ready to leave—until she reached out to touch his arm.

  “I’ll have Briana come get the dogs tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Have her give me a call.” More words felt impossible, and he stepped to the door before he turned to look at her one last time. “Goodbye, Jilly. I hope your life brings you everything you want.”

  She nodded, and as she did so a few tears spilled from her eyes. “I hope yours does, too, Conor. Goodbye.”

  And with that he somehow made it out the door before a few tears of his own slipped down his cheeks.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  PACKING UP HER apartment proved to be difficult. Jillian was thankful that Briana had gotten quite a bit done for her before she’d had to leave, and that now Michelle had been willing to stop by after work to help with the things s
he couldn’t possibly do with one hand.

  “I really appreciate this,” Jill said, running the packing tape dispenser across a box as Michelle held the flaps closed. “Clothes and stuff weren’t hard, and even putting things into the boxes just took me some extra time. But getting them secured and stacked? No way.”

  “Happy to help.” Michelle lifted the box and put it on top of the others waiting for the moving company that would arrive at any minute. “But you know I’m still wondering if this is really what you want to do.”

  “It is. I’m sure.”

  Well, maybe she wasn’t completely sure she wanted to leave New York. But did she want to have to see Conor’s handsome face and infectious smile and think about how good it had felt to be together again for a few wonderful days? Think about how much she still loved him?

  She briefly closed her eyes, picturing the face she missed so much, and swallowed down the stupid tears that threatened. Just as Conor himself had said, sometimes love wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t. He had demons that he didn’t seem to want to battle, and she had her own. And even if she got a grip on hers, and felt she was making progress, she knew for certain now that if they tried once more it would end up in heartbreak for both of them all over again.

  Not a place either of them wanted to go.

  “I know from stuff you’ve said that you’ll miss the city,” said Michelle. “And I think it’s wrong to let Conor McCarthy run you off if you don’t want to go.”

  “He’s not running me off. I’m choosing to go.”

  “Uh-huh? You’re not kidding me. There was a new smile in your eyes when you two were seeing each other again—until he acted like an idiot, as usual.”

  “He’s not an idiot. Just a guy with some issues. And I’m not sticking around to try to fix him, getting hurt all over again in the process. I’m going to concentrate on fixing myself. You should be glad about that.”

  “I don’t know how much fixing you need, Jill. I think you’re already there. As for Conor? He may have those issues you talk about, but he’s more than worth fixing, in my opinion.”

  Yes, he was. But he didn’t believe he could be fixed. And shoring up her own confidence had to be her priority—not trying to help a man who didn’t believe he could be helped.

  “It’s too late for us,” she said softly. “It just is.”

  Michelle sighed and moved another box. “What about leaving the city? You love it here.”

  “I do love New York. But the new place has lots of good things going for it.”

  She glanced out her front window and knew it was true that she’d miss this city. Yes, it was expensive, and crowded, and sometimes crazy, but there was no place like it and it felt like home to her. Even more after she’d moved into Conor’s apartment for those first months they’d been deliriously, happily, married.

  A sprinkle of raindrops began hitting the window and streaking down, and she held in a sigh. How appropriate that the unusually warm early December weather she’d enjoyed with Conor had given way to cold, gray drizzle this past week. It definitely reflected her mood. Hopefully the movers would have a way to keep her things dry as they packed them into their truck.

  She turned back to Michelle and forced a smile. “Anyway, I can come back and visit New York any time, right? Expect me to bunk in with you about every three months or so.”

  “Uh...with the dogs?” Michelle shook her head and grinned. “Don’t know that my roommate would be willing to share her bedroom with them—and there’s only room for you and me in mine.”

  Jill laughed, glad to move the subject to safe ground that didn’t make her heart hurt for something that couldn’t be. “I’ll find a kennel where they’ll be happy before I visit, don’t worry.”

  “Ready for us?”

  She turned to see two guys in her doorway, wearing matching shirts with the moving company’s name on them. “Yes. We have a couple more boxes to close, but you can start to load up things while we do that, right?”

  “Absolutely.” He leaned down to scratch the heads of the greeting committee, known as Hudson and Yorkie, who were nosing the man’s legs and wagging their tails. “Great dogs. The big one reminds me of mine.”

  “They are good dogs. Most of the time.”

  “So, the plan is to store your stuff in the truck overnight, then we leave in the morning. Right?”

  “Right.”

  Tomorrow morning. The first day of her new life.

  She managed to smile at the man before she and Michelle got busy packing the last few things in the kitchen as the men moved boxes and furniture.

  Jill suddenly remembered the small bag of Conor’s clothes he’d accidentally left that first day, when he’d brought her here after her surgery. She wanted to give it to Michelle, to take to work with her so she could return them. She didn’t want to just give them to a charity shop, but also she definitely didn’t want to call Conor to come get them. Their goodbye had been utterly final, and seeing one another again even for a moment would just dredge up those sad feelings all over again.

  She moved into the bedroom and picked up the bag, then hesitated. The old T-shirt that he’d worn to exercise and walk the dogs poked up from the top of the bag and she tugged it out. Held it to her nose and closed her eyes to breathe in his scent. The smell she loved and that she’d never get to enjoy again.

  Even as she told herself it was pathetic she opened the suitcase she’d packed, so she’d have the basics handy at her new place, and folded the shirt inside. Zipped it closed even as she scolded herself that the last thing she needed was his shirt to wear. Something that would remind her of him at her new place and in her new life.

  But she’d be thinking of him anyway, wouldn’t she? Maybe in some strange way wearing his shirt would be a source of comfort instead of sadness.

  With a sigh, Jill carried the bag holding his other things to the living room. “I just remembered I have some of Conor’s stuff. Will you take this to work and give it to him?”

  Michelle looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Sure. I’ve finished the last of the kitchen utensils. I think that’s everything.”

  “Thanks.”

  She watched Michelle stack the box next to the door that was still propped wide open after the men had carried out the sofa. Then she realized that Hudson was lounging in his bed, but there was no sign of Yorkie.

  “Where’s Yorkie?”

  She and Michelle looked all around the small apartment, and when it was clear he wasn’t there a feeling of panic welled in her chest.

  “Oh, my God, could he have gotten out?”

  “I’ll look in the stairwell,” Michelle said.

  “I’m coming, too.” Jill shut the door behind them so there was no chance Hudson would follow.

  When there was no sign of Yorkie on any of the staircases her hands began to shake and the feeling of panic grew.

  “He must be out on the street! Who knows where he’ll run? And he’s so tiny...he could easily get hit by a car.”

  “Where do you usually walk him? Maybe he’ll follow that route.”

  “I don’t have a specific route, really,” she said, trying to think through the cold fear clouding her mind. “I wonder if Conor did? He walked them a few times the day he was here.”

  “I’ll call Conor and ask. Maybe he can give you some insight.”

  Jill’s heart jolted. The last thing she wanted was to have to talk to Conor, but this was an emergency, and her feelings weren’t nearly as important as finding Yorkie.

  “Conor’s not answering his cell. I’ll call the answering service,” Michelle said.

  “Yorkie! Yorkie!” Jill hurried to the moving truck, calling to the men inside. “My little dog got out when the door was left open. Do you know where he is?”

  “No. Damn—sorry about that. I didn’t see h
im if he followed us.”

  Jill ran up the street, craning her neck and calling the dog’s name with Michelle by her side, her phone still pressed to her ear.

  “I need to speak with Dr. Conor McCarthy immediately,” Michelle said. “It’s an emergency.”

  * * *

  “Here are the numbers I believe we can generate in the first year,” Conor said as he handed everyone assembled in the boardroom the folders holding the calculations and projections he’d worked on for over six months. “The location next to HOAC is perfect for Urgent Care Manhattan to become well established as the place to go for non-life-threatening injuries and illnesses. No other urgent care clinic is situated within a twenty-block area, but there’s a hospital only a few blocks away. If you needed to refer your patients there for things you can’t take care of it would be easy to do.”

  “I agree the location is perfect,” Peter Stanford said, addressing everyone in the room. “For all the reasons Dr. McCarthy just noted and because we can send patients directly to HOAC if they need to see an orthopedic surgeon. I believe that when we advertise that advantage a lot of patients with possible broken bones will want to come to Urgent Care Manhattan instead of our competitors.”

  Conor listened to the board members as they asked Peter various questions. Also asked their accountants about the numbers Conor had presented, and addressed some contract questions to their lawyer. For some reason he found he had to keep making himself refocus on the conversation. How that was possible he didn’t know, because he’d worked on this project for so long he should be zeroing in on every word. Instead thoughts of Jill kept drifting into his mind, adding to the ache that still hung in his chest from the night they’d said goodbye.

  He’d heard through the grapevine that she was leaving New York today. Taking the dogs and moving to another state. It was unlikely he’d ever see any of them again.

  It was what he wanted. For her to find a new life and a new beginning that made her happy. The kind of happiness he’d failed so miserably to provide. So why did his heart feel every bit as heavy as the night he’d walked out her door?