Second Chance with the Surgeon

by Robin Gianna

  He didn’t know. And it made him wonder how long it would take for him to feel even a little more normal. Which was the best he knew he could hope for, because he was absolutely certain he’d miss Jillian’s lovely face and warm smile and beautiful heart forever.

  He managed to focus his attention long enough to answer some of the board members’ questions, but as two of them started to disagree over a few of the details his cell phone buzzed with its emergency call chime. He never answered his phone during meetings and he frowned, wondering what the problem could be, since he wasn’t on call.

  “Excuse me a moment,” he murmured as he grabbed the phone and stood to step to the other side of the room.

  “Conor McCarthy.”

  “Conor! It’s Michelle.”

  Her voice sounded breathless and scared and his heart dropped straight into his stomach before it began racing. “What’s wrong? Is Jill hurt?”

  “No, it’s Yorkie. He got out of the apartment when the moving guys were taking out the furniture. We’re out here looking for him and Jill wondered if you’d taken him on any specific route when you walked him. We thought maybe he’d follow it if you did.”

  Damn! “Is she there? Let me talk to her.”

  “Okay—here...”

  A muffled sound, then Jill was on the line.

  “Conor? Oh, God, I’m so worried. Do you have any idea where he might go?”

  His fingers tightened on his phone, because even sounding tense the voice he’d thought he’d never hear again slipped inside his wounded heart. “I don’t. But let me think a minute.”

  “Call me if you come up with anything. I’ve got to go.”

  “Wait.”

  He stared out the window at the rain streaming down the glass, at the bright flash of lightning in the sky. Heard Jilly’s voice sounding so panicked. Without another thought, he knew he had to help her through this scare. Help find little Yorkie, lost in this storm. The dog had been his once, too, and he had to be there for both Jillian and Yorkie when they needed him most.

  “I’ll be right there to help you look. I’ll call after I park the car and find out where you are.”

  “Okay.”

  She hung up and he strode back to the meeting. “I’m afraid an emergency has come up and I have to leave. Please continue to go over the numbers and call me with any questions you might have.”

  “We’d hoped to finalize this tonight—it’s important that you be here to answer those questions,” Peter said, his eyebrows raised. “If it’s a patient, surely there’s another surgeon who can take over for you?”

  “It’s not a patient. It’s my dog. He’s lost and I have to go help find him.”

  Everyone in the room stared at him with varying degrees of surprise and disbelief on their faces.

  Peter sent him a thunderous frown. “Your dog? Surely someone else can look for it?”

  “They need my help.”

  “It seems to me perhaps you shouldn’t plan to be president of this new company we’d be creating with the merger, then, if this meeting can’t take priority over a pet.”

  “Maybe that’s true. Sorry, Peter, but I’ve got to go.”

  Conor bolted to his car, waiting to be singed by gnawing regret. By worry that the deal that had been his priority for so long would fall through because of this. That all his hard work, all the money he and others would make as they improved and expanded patient care, was about to go straight out the window.

  It didn’t come. Even though his chest was tight with worry for Yorkie, it felt strangely light, too. As if he’d thrown a thousand-pound monster from his shoulders and was finally free of it. A monster that had been hanging there, controlling him, for way too long.

  He wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but figuring it out had to take a back seat to the current emergency.

  Right now Jillian and Yorkie were his priorities, and he drove as fast as he could through the traffic and rain, parked in the garage near her apartment and ran out to the streets.

  “Yorkie! Yorkie!”

  He strode toward the nearby park that the dogs liked, though he assumed Jill had probably gone there first.

  He pulled out his phone to call and find out. “I’m near the park close to your apartment. Where are you?”

  “Michelle and I were there maybe fifteen minutes ago. Didn’t see him. We’re a few blocks over. I don’t know how we’re going to find him.”

  Her voice ended on a near-sob, and if he hadn’t already wanted desperately to find the little pup her distress would have made him even more determined.

  “I’ll look here again, then call back, and we’ll make a plan. Hang in there.”

  He strode through the small park, looking beneath the many shrubs and trees around its perimeter and in the thick groups near a few benches. “Yorkie! Yorkie!”

  Bending over, he peered through a hedge that lined the brick wall, then did a double take, blinking the raindrops from his eyes. He looked again, and there, shining within the leaves, was a set of beady little eyes staring at him.

  He crouched down and held out his hand. “Yorkie! It’s me! Come on—you’re okay. Come out now.”

  Conor held his breath as the dog just stared at him. He worried that Yorkie might be afraid and disoriented after he’d run off, and schooled his voice into a croon.

  “Come on, now, big guy. Your mama is trying to find you. How about a treat? A nice treat?”

  He drew the syllables out, the way Jill did when she talked to Yorkie, and sure enough the dog took a few halting steps closer. Close enough that Conor was able to quickly reach in, grab him, and pull him close to his chest.

  A giant breath of relief whooshed from his lungs. The poor, wet dog was shivering, and he tucked him inside his coat. “There you go. You need to warm up.”

  Yorkie whimpered, and Conor knew there were two priorities—one was to get the dog dried off and warm, and the other was to let Jillian know he had him safe.

  Making sure he had a tight grip on the pup, he used his other hand to fish his phone from his pocket. “Jill? I have him. He was hiding under some shrubs in the park. Yes, he’s okay. Just cold and wet. I’ll meet you at your apartment.”

  “Oh, my gosh!” Her voice came on a new sob. “Thank you! We’ve doubled back toward my apartment building, thinking he might have tried to go home. So we’re almost there now.”

  Conor talked to the dog as he walked and, now that he had him safe, spared a rueful thought for his clothes. A wet and muddy dog, not to mention pouring rain, just might ruin his suit—but he couldn’t worry about that. He could buy a new suit, but finding the dog he loved and keeping the woman he loved from being scared and sad...

  That was worth anything.

  As he approached the front door of Jillian’s apartment building he could see her running toward him through the gray rain and his heart jolted.

  “Don’t run! You could easily slip and fall on the wet pavement! I’ve got him and he’s not getting away, I promise.”

  “Oh, Conor!”

  She flung her arms around him and he wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her close. Both of them were soaked, but apparently she didn’t care anymore than he did.

  Water dripped from her sopping hair down her forehead and cheeks as she leaned up to press her wet mouth to his. “I can’t believe you came. I can’t believe you found him. I was so scared he’d be lost forever. I owe you so much.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He was my dog once, too, and I care about him as much as you do.”

  It was true, and as he stood there holding her in the rain it was all he could do not to tell her how much he loved her, and that he’d learned something beyond important tonight. That work could never, ever replace the love her felt for her. His need to be there for her. With her.

  His fear for
Yorkie, and for her, had been so powerful it had taken precedence over anything else—including the meeting he’d so stupidly thought was everything. It might have taken him way too long to see that bright truth, but he’d never make that mistake again.

  Except standing in the rain, with a wet dog tucked into his coat and a shivering woman held close in his arms, wasn’t the best time to tell her all he’d learned and seen during the past hour.

  “This reminds me of my all-time favorite moment in New York. Holding you in the rain in Central Park.”

  “Except that day we had an umbrella. And we didn’t get soaking wet. And it wasn’t freezing cold.”

  “True.” Her smiling eyes met his, and it was all he could do not to lean down and kiss her. “Let’s get inside out of this weather, hmm?”

  She nodded, and when they got to the door a rained-on Michelle stood there. “Wow, you are amazing, Conor! I’m so happy you found him. I hope it’s okay with you, but I’m going back to my apartment to get dry clothes.” She grinned. “I admit I really want to just stay there and get warm in my jammies, but if you need me to come back and help finish packing in the morning, let me know.”

  “Thanks, but I think it’s pretty much done,” Jillian said. “I appreciate all your help so much, and you looking for Yorkie. I’ll be in touch.”

  The two women hugged, then Conor and Jillian took the elevator to her apartment.

  “There’s a small problem,” Jill said, shoving her wet hair from her eyes. “All my stuff is packed in boxes on the truck. Towels, clothes—you name it. I don’t have any way for us to dry Yorkie, or you and me.”

  “Well, that is a problem.”

  He pulled Yorkie from his jacket and held him up. Both of them laughed at the way the poor pup looked as if he’d lost ten pounds, with his wet fur lying flattened against his little body, resembling an opossum more than a dog.

  “You’re a troublemaker, you know that?” Conor told him.

  The dog licked his wet nose and yipped, and both Conor and Jillian laughed again—until Conor sobered, knowing the things he wanted and needed to say to her might be coming way too late. But knowing his future happiness, his life’s happiness, depended on it.

  “I... I have a lot of things I want to say to you.”

  Her eyes met his for a long moment before she gave him a slow nod. “All right. But first let me see if there’s anything other than clothes in my suitcase to get York cleaned up.”

  “Let’s use my shirt, first.” He set the dog on his feet and pulled off his suit jacket, then began to unbutton the shirt that was mostly dry except for where York had been held against his chest, leaving a muddy stain. “It’s probably ruined anyway.”

  He rubbed the dog all over, and being as small as he was, the shirt and Yorkie’s repeated shaking, flinging droplets of rain around the room, seemed to do the trick.

  “There. Bedraggled, but dry enough, I think.”

  “Oh, Conor. I’m so sorry about your clothes.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Good news is I have a bag of things you left here.”

  She picked it up and handed it to him, then bit her lip. “Um...there’s not a shirt in there, though. Let me...get it.”

  He dug in the bag and saw sweatpants and socks and a few other things, before she came back holding his T-shirt. Their eyes met as he reached for it, wondering why it wasn’t in the bag with everything else.

  “I kept it,” she blurted, as though she’d read his mind. “I know it’s stupid and silly, but I wanted to keep a little piece of you with me. Sorry I was going to steal it.”

  He dropped the clothes, wanting so much to reach for her and hold her close, wet or not, but he knew he had to tell her what he’d learned first and see if she’d possibly believe him.

  “Stupid? That would be me, Jillian. A man who loves you more than anything in this world but still walked away.”

  “Conor...” she whispered. “It’s okay. We—”

  “Let me finish.” He pressed his finger to her cold lips. “I let you go because I thought it was the best thing for you. Was sure it was because I’d proved over and over that I couldn’t be there for you the way you deserve. That there was something wrong with me—something missing inside. And then tonight I finally got a hard hit to the head that made me open my eyes. Made me see that wasn’t true at all.”

  Her eyes were wide on his now, but she didn’t speak, and he reached for her shoulders and forged on.

  “I was in the middle of a meeting with all the Urgent Care Manhattan board members, among others. About to close a deal I’ve been working on for a long time and that I thought was the most important thing to concentrate on. Critical to make it happen. But I was sitting there thinking of you, instead. Thinking of you moving today, and thinking how much I’d miss you, and how much I love you, and how much I wished I could be a different man.”

  “And then...?”

  “Then I got Michelle’s call about Yorkie. It scared me. And when I heard how scared you were I saw with an instant blinding clarity that I’ve been utterly wrong about so many things. That I’m not like my father at all. That you are the most important thing in the world. Way more than any work or money or investments could ever be. And that providing monetarily for you isn’t the best way to show my love for you. It was like lightning struck me, and burned into my brain that if I let you go that would be the one thing that would truly make me a failure.”

  “You left the meeting?”

  “I left the meeting,” he confirmed. “And as I did all the things I believed about myself and my life fell away, and I knew with absolute certainty that all I need in life is you. Not more businesses, not a bigger portfolio, not a bigger apartment. Just you.”

  “Oh, Conor.” Her lips trembled and she wrapped her arms around him. “I’d told myself our relationship being over was a good thing. A chance for me to believe in myself, be confident in a man’s love for me someday, when I was ready to try a relationship again. But, listening to you now, I know for certain that you finally coming to believe in yourself was a process, the way mine was. And I believe we’re both there now in a way we weren’t before.”

  Her words made it hard for him to breathe, and he had to try twice before he could speak. “I know I am. I know that I love you, Jilly. I know that I’ll always be here for you, and that I’ll never be that guy who failed you ever again.”

  “And I’ll never be that woman who wonders if you really love her. Because I can see it, Conor.” Her voice wobbled as she smiled up at him. “I see the love I feel for you reflected right back. I see it so clearly I can hardly breathe from the happiness I feel right now. I love you. So much.”

  Unable to speak, he pulled her close and buried his face in her wet hair, not caring that her clothes were damp and cold against his bare chest. They stood there for long minutes before he pulled back and kissed her sweet lips, and the taste of them made his throat close all over again.

  He lifted her wet sweatshirt away from her skin before reaching for her cold hands. “I know you need to get into dry clothes, but I can’t wait even a few more minutes.” He swallowed down the emotion in his chest so he could ask what he desperately needed to know. “Will you marry me, Jill? Again? This time I’ll be the husband you deserve. I’ll be the man you want. I’ll be the man who is always there for you and who gives you everything you need—and I’m not talking about money. I’m talking about myself. I promise.”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you. Again.” Her fingers tightened on his. “I’ll believe in you and I’ll always be there for you. I promise.”

  Relief weakened his knees and he pulled her close, kissing her until the moist air around them seemed to steam and their wet clothes weren’t even close to cold anymore.

  When they finally separated he smiled down at the beautiful face smiling back. “How about we get these wet clothes off before you ca
tch a cold? Then a warm shower.”

  “Sounds like very good medical advice, Dr. McCarthy.”

  She gave him the impish grin he loved so much, and the fact that he’d get to see it every day of his life weakened his knees all over again.

  “And here’s something you’ll be pleased about. I have my hair dryer in my suitcase, since you’re so good at using that.”

  He tugged her shirt off over her head, grasped her hand and headed toward her bathroom. “I am pleased about that. And I’d like to show you other things I’m good at, too. Prove that I’ll always be good to you. What do you think about that?”

  “I think being good to one another is the perfect way to begin our second chance together. Starting right now.”

  EPILOGUE

  JILLIAN FINISHED THE measurement of her patient’s hand strength and mobility, entered the numbers in the computer, then sat back with a smile. “Looks like you’ve hit all the required markers, Sandy. Congratulations! I’m graduating you from occupational therapy.”

  “I’m so glad! This sure hasn’t been fun, except for working with you, Jillian. Thanks so much for everything. You’ve made a painful and frustrating process a whole lot better than I expected it to be. And my hand really works again! I almost can’t believe it.”

  “I always knew you’d get there—and making therapy less miserable is one of our goals. If you keep up with your exercises at home you’ll be almost as good as new in a few more months.”

  “I will. Thanks again.”

  Jillian stood and raised her voice. “Sandy’s graduated, everyone! Time for her clap-out!”

  All the therapists cheered and clapped their hands as Sandy laughed and waved on her way out the door.

  Jill cupped her big belly and took a moment to stretch her back before shutting down the computer and grabbing her purse.

  She paused to look at her scarred wrist. The surgical line had faded to a pale pink, no longer obvious, and she smiled, thinking of how Conor sometimes still kissed and nibbled at it the way he did the scars on her legs, making her laugh until things morphed into another kind of kissing, then into making love, which brought so many emotions.