Читать книгу A Mistletoe Kiss For The Single Dad - Traci Douglass - Страница 11

BELLE PARKED IN the driveway of her aunt Marlene’s modest ranch-style home on Hancock Street and stumbled inside the foyer, her feet numb and her arm aching from toting her heavy wheeled suitcase behind her. At least the ride had given her some much-needed time to herself to recalibrate. Hard to believe after all this time that he still affected her like no other man.

It made no sense whatsoever.

She’d dated plenty of men in Beverly Hills—rich, gorgeous, successful, highly desirable men. Yet not one of them had seemed to hold a candle to Nick when it came to physical attraction. Maybe because he’d been her first.

First kiss, first boyfriend, first…everything.

And they said you never forgot your first…

No. She shook off those unwanted thoughts and slumped back against the closed door, listening to the lonesome sound of the wind howling as the snowstorm picked up outside and the reality of her situation crept into her bones. She was back in Bayside. She was unexpectedly partnered with Nick again. She was all alone because Aunt Marlene was gone.

Forever.

The tears she’d struggled to hold back since her arrival spilled forth as she toed off her pumps then walked into the living room, spotting all the reminders of the life she’d left behind. There was the lopsided ceramic mug she’d made for Aunt Marlene in sixth grade. And a picture of the two of them at Belle’s high-school graduation. On the wall in the hallway were photos of her aunt with her patients at various local events—the July Fourth band concert in the gazebo on the town green, the annual Christmas tree lighting ceremony.

There were pictures of Belle’s parents too on their wedding day. Aunt Marlene had been her mom’s maid of honor. Memories of her parents were blurry and soft in Belle’s mind, like watercolors. She remembered her mother making a birthday cake, her father teaching Belle how to fish for salmon in the Manistee River, their trip to Tahquamenon Falls State Park when Belle had thought the iron-rich falls were made of root beer.

Her heart ached and more tears fell. Her parents had both been doctors too. Family medicine. They’d always talked about Belle taking over their practice someday. Perhaps that was another reason she’d been so torn about choosing plastic surgery as her specialty in college. If she’d stayed with GP, it would have been another link to them, but fate had had other ideas—especially after her ill-fated trip to see Nick in college. Finding out about his engagement and his impending fatherhood had left her feeling untethered, powerless. She’d focused on the one area where she still felt like she had control—her career.

She gave a sad little ironic snort. Seemed Nick wasn’t the only one with control issues.

With the back of her hand, Belle swiped at her damp cheeks. God, she missed her family. Aunt Marlene had been so young, so vital, despite her age and heart condition. She’d always seemed immortal to Belle, even though rationally she’d known someday the end would come. She’d just never expected it to happen so fast.

If only I’d known…

She hadn’t, though, because Aunt Marlene had never told Belle how sick she was. That stubborn, independent streak ran in their family and had reared its ugly head again apparently. Aunt Marlene had always been the type to do for others, yet never let anyone help her in her time of need. She’d not wanted to be a bother to anyone, she’d always said.

Belle would’ve loved nothing more than to be bothered by her aunt just one more time.

Maybe it was being back home again after all this time, but Belle felt at a loose end and was reconsidering everything in her life. Her career, her relationships, her future. Funerals always seemed to bring out her introspective side and this one was worst of all.

When her parents had died, Belle had been a child and Aunt Marlene had made the choices for her. Now it all fell on Belle to pick up the pieces and decide how best to move forward.

Sniffling, she returned to the living room and sank down on the sofa to stare at the Christmas tree in the corner. Her aunt must have put it up before going into the hospital after Thanksgiving. Grief flooded her anew at all the memories of holidays past. The tree glowed with twinkling lights and tinsel and she finally let herself sob for all she’d lost and for the beloved aunt she’d never see again.

Pain and doubt scraped her raw inside. Sticking to her career plans had been a way of remaining close to her parents and Aunt Marlene over the years, even if she’d left Bayside and chosen a different field of practice. Her rational brain said they’d all want her to be happy, but the scared child still lurking inside her feared maybe she’d not done enough to fulfill their dreams for her. Maybe she’d not done enough to fulfill her dreams for herself.

A buzzing sound finally pulled her out of her tears and self-recriminations and back to reality. Dabbing her eyes with a tissue, Belle rushed to grab her bag from the foyer and pull out her cell phone to see an incoming video call from Dr. Reyes.

Doing her best to restore some semblance of order to her appearance, Belle tapped the screen. Dr. Reyes’s tanned, perfectly sculpted face appeared. His dark eyes narrowed as she forced a smile.

“Hello, sir,” Belle said, her voice still rough from crying.

“Dr. Watson, are you all right? You didn’t return any of my calls today.”

Belle took a deep breath, forcing her emotions down deep and switching to professional mode. “I’m fine. Thank you. Just tired.”

“My condolences again on the passing of your aunt. Were you close?”

“Yes.” She blinked hard against the unwanted sting of more tears. “She raised me after my parents died.”

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing more important than family.”

At least she had the presence of mind not to point out the oddness of Dr. Reyes’s statement, since he’d been married three times.

“What’s the name of the town where you’re staying?” he asked. “Seaport?”

“Bayside.”

“Ah. I come from in a small town myself in Brazil. Five hundred people.”

Belle steeled herself to declare the bad news. “There may be an issue with my return date, sir.”

“What?” Dr. Reyes frowned. “Why? The standard three days to mourn and take care of your aunt’s affairs should be more than sufficient, Dr. Watson. And what of the patient I’m seeing in your absence? The breast reconstruction?”

Belle winced. In all the stress of today she’d forgotten about poor Cassie Gordon. At just twenty, her young patient had already been through five previous procedures to correct what should’ve been a simple case of asymmetry. But now her case had become a nightmare of complications due the earlier botched surgeries by other physicians. The procedure had taken Belle three hours for what should have been forty-minute surgery. There’d been vast amounts of scar tissue to remove and internal suturing required to close things up properly. “Is Miss Gordon doing well?”

“For now.” Annoyance crept into Dr. Reyes’s tone. “Explain to me why you must stay.”

Belle cleared her suddenly constricted throat. “There’s more to do than I expected to settle my aunt’s estate and I’m the only family she had left. Plus, there was a stipulation.”

“A stipulation?”

“Yes. Her final wish was for us to reopen the free clinic on Christmas Eve before we liquidate the proceeds.”

“We?”

Images of Nick tonight at the diner flooded Belle’s mind once more before she shoved them aside. “I inherited half of my aunt’s estate, along with another person.”

Dr. Reyes frowned. “Splitting assets is a complicated business, but you went home to pay respects, not revive your aunt’s medical practice.”

“I know, sir.” Bristling under the censure in his tone, Belle raised her chin. “None of this was my intention, but things are a bit more complicated than I anticipated.” Her heart pinched as she remembered her aunt soldiering on through what must have been one of the most difficult times in her life on Belle’s behalf all those years ago. If her aunt could do it, then she could too. “The free clinic will reopen on Christmas Eve, then I’ll fly home on the holiday. I realize this is an inconvenience, but I’ll work double shifts, triple even, once I return. Whatever you need.”

“What I need, Dr. Watson, is to know your priorities are straight,” Dr. Reyes said, then sighed. “Fine. But I expect you to be back in California on Christmas, nine days from now. Not too much to ask, I think, after everything I’ve done for you in your career.”

His words pulled Belle up short. Yes, he’d hired Belle fresh out of residency, advising her on the ins and outs of conquering the Everest-sized mountain of Beverly Hills plastic surgery. But she’d had other lucrative offers, as well. And she’d worked hard, made a lot of sacrifices herself to get where she was. If all she’d accomplished on her own volition didn’t win her the right to take sole ownership of her success, then she didn’t know what did. It also made her doubts about the partnership and what she truly wanted stir more strongly inside her. Still, she was resolved to do her duty, for now. “Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.”

In truth, wrapping everything up here by Christmas was pushing it, but she’d figure it out. She worked miracles on a daily basis with her patients. She’d survived losing her parents and losing the boy she’d loved back in high school. She’d survive losing Aunt Marlene too.

“Good,” Dr. Reyes said, bringing her back to the present. “I’ll check in with you again tomorrow re your patient.”

He ended the call and she sat there staring at the Christmas tree for a long time afterward, her mind racing. For the past eighteen years she’d worked so hard to get where she was, never once stopping to look at all the things she’d missed, all the things that had slipped away or fallen by the wayside in her pursuit of success. But she loved her life, loved her work, loved the new opportunities on her horizon.

Don’t I?

To be honest, it had begun to ring a bit hollow lately.

A bit lonely too.

Letting her head fall back against the cushions, Belle picked up a crocheted pillow and stared at the quote embroidered there: Bloom where you’re planted.

Belle was trying hard to keep on blooming, even if the soil right now felt pretty rocky.

“Time for bed, Con,” Nick called as he turned down the flannel sheets in his son’s room. They’d picked them out a few weeks previously during a trip to the big-box store in Manistee. Goofy lime-green monsters and bright orange superheroes covered the material. Nick had been obsessed with the latest space movie characters when he’d been a kid too.

Like father, like son.

“Dad, who was the woman at dinner tonight?” Con asked as he walked into the room and climbed into bed in his pajamas, wiping toothpaste from his mouth with his sleeve. “She seemed kind of…stressed out.”

“She probably was,” Nick sighed as he tucked his son in. Honestly, Belle had seemed ready to shatter at any minute. The idea bothered Nick more than he cared to admit. He had no business worrying about Belle. He’d made a vow to his dying wife on the day she’d passed away—to put their son first, to keep him happy and safe. His needs came second, if at all. After everything Vicki had sacrificed to marry him, it was the least he could do. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Belle’s been through a lot. Dr. Marlene was her aunt.”

“Are you guys friends?” Con leaned back against the pillows resting against his headboard, looking as energetic as ever. Nick’s hopes for a quick good night faded.

“We used to be. Go to sleep. You’ve got school in the morning.” He stood and walked to the door. The past was over and bringing it up now would only lead to more questions from Connor. Questions Nick did not want to answer tonight. Maybe not ever.

Unfortunately, his son wasn’t going to let the subject of Belle drop so easily. “So, why aren’t you friends anymore?”

Because Belle and I have too much history. Instead, he said, “It’s complicated.”

His son’s determination gave way to obstinacy. “Mom said talking about things made them better.”

“Your mom…” Nick started, then stopped. It was true. Vicki had been a good talker. A good listener too. It was one of the reasons she and Nick had first become pals in medical school. In fact, the night Vicki had gotten pregnant, she’d been consoling Nick about his loneliness over Belle. She’d been nursing her wounds over a bad breakup herself. They’d both had too much to drink and one thing had led to another. It had been a fluke, a one-night stand, but eight weeks later Vicki had told him she was pregnant. Nick had done the noble thing, of course, and proposed. Vicki had agreed, despite the fact she’d had dreams too, had been on track for a career as a nurse practitioner in Manhattan. She’d given it all up to marry him and raise their son together.

Connor was still staring at him, waiting for his answer, so Nick did the best he could. “Your mom did like to talk things out. But she also knew when to let things rest.”

“Please, Dad? I miss her. You never mention Mom anymore. I dreamed about her again last night. She was walking away and no matter how loud I screamed for her to come back, she just left me behind.”

At the catch in his son’s voice, Nick caved like a crumbling mine shaft. He’d thought that by not bringing Vicki up so much he’d save Connor the pain of her loss, but it seemed he’d only made things worse. Feeling like the world’s worst parent ever, he toed off his shoes then climbed back onto the bed beside his son, resting against the headboard next to Connor. “Fine. You want to know about me and Belle? I’ll tell you. But I’m making this quick because we both have to be up early. Got it?”

Con grinned and settled back against his favorite monster pillow. “Got it.”

Nick took a deep breath. “Belle and I both volunteered after school in Marlene’s clinic.”

“You used to clean up blood and guts and yucky stuff? Cool!”

“No. We used to sterilize instruments and scrub down exam tables.” He put an arm around Connor and tugged the boy into his side, ruffling his hair. “No gore. Well, unless you consider taking care of the parakeet cages in the lobby yucky.”

“Super-yucky.” His son wrinkled his nose. “Go on.”

“We spent a lot of time together at the clinic, since we both wanted to be doctors. Later, Belle and I dated in high school. We were even prom king and queen.”

“Wow. I’m never going to date anyone. Especially a girl.”

“Never say never.” Nick laughed. “Trust me.”

“So, why don’t you like her anymore?” Connor asked.

An uncomfortable twinge of regret pinched his chest before he tamped it down. “Nothing happened. Belle moved away from Bayside, and I did too. Our paths diverged.”

“Diverged?” Con looked up at him, frowning. “What’s that mean?”

“It means we ended up in different places.” He rested his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes. Truth was, he’d loved Belle enough to let her go. The fact she’d shared with him all her hopes and dreams and her parents’ aspirations for her had sealed the deal. He couldn’t hold her back. Wouldn’t hold her back.

Then he’d gone down a different path with Vicki and their destinies hadn’t crossed again, until now. Belle was his past. Connor was his future. The sooner Nick got that straight, the better off he’d be. “Belle and I parted ways a long time ago, son. We’re different people now.”

His son seemed to consider that a moment. “And then you met Mom.”

“And then I met your mother.”

Connor yawned and Nick took his cue to leave. He slipped out of the bed and walked to the door again, picking up his shoes along the way. “Good night, son.”

“‘Night.” Con snuggled down under the covers. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“If Belle decides to stay, would she be able to help Analia?”

Nick exhaled slowly and hung his head. “She won’t stay, son. She needs to get back to California. Her life is there.”

“Miracles happen all the time.” Connor peered at Nick, the covers tucked beneath his chin as icy snow tapped against the window panes. “Mom used to say that too.”

The chances of Belle choosing Bayside over Beverly Hills were slim to none, but it was late and Nick was tired. “We’ll see. Now, get some sleep. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

“Hey, Dad?” Connor’s yawn obscured the words.

Nick stopped halfway out of the room. “Yes, son?”

“When are you going to let me walk to school like Eric does?”

He sighed. The question struck far close to home after Belle’s judgmental remarks earlier. He didn’t want to smother Connor, but he’d do anything to keep him safe. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay? Now go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Connor said, his tone resigned. “Love you.”

“Love you too, son.” Nick closed the door, feeling like he’d gone ten rounds with an MMA fighter instead of put his kid to bed. When Vicki had been alive, they’d used to talk about stuff they wanted to do with Connor. Take him across the country and visit all the national parks. Let him have free rein in what he wanted to learn and do and be, within reason. Raise him to be an independent, free-thinking, fearless boy.

Now Nick watched his kid like a hawk. He didn’t let Connor cross the street alone because another child had been hit last year on Main Street on his way home from school. Granted, it had been the beginning of summer and with the tourists beginning to flock to the area the number of distracted drivers on the road had increased, but it didn’t reassure Nick at all. He trusted Connor. It was everyone else who made him wary. In the rational part of his mind, he knew he couldn’t keep Con under his wing forever, but he wasn’t sure how he’d cope if anything happened to his son.

Bone-weary, he checked the locks then shut off the lights before heading to bed himself, Belle’s words still echoing through his head. He didn’t want to be controlling. Back in the day, he’d gone with the flow and dealt with the punches as they came.

But as he brushed his teeth then finally climbed between the sheets, he realized life had changed him. Much as he hated to admit it, maybe he should allow Connor a little more freedom. After all, that was why he’d moved back to Bayside. The safety, the security.

Except with Belle back in town, the well-ordered life he’d tried to rebuild and protect suddenly felt threatened. He turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was Belle sitting in the diner, shiny as a new penny under the harsh fluorescent lights, and his chest squeezed with an odd mix of apprehension and anticipation.

Grumbling, he turned over and punched his pillow before burying his face in it. Hell, he wasn’t sure why he was getting all riled up over her return anyway. Wasn’t like he was interested in getting involved with her again. Just the opposite. For all he knew, she was seeing someone out in California. The thought nipped at him despite his wish to the contrary.

No. In a few hours he’d face her again, clear-headed and logical this time because if he was honest, having Belle back in Bayside was far more dangerous to him than any hit-and-run driver would ever be.