The Doctor's Fake Fiancee

by Victoria James

  He wished he could be the man she needed. But he couldn’t. He had never thought about a life beyond his career. Even when he’d been with Alex for those years, they were just two surgeons existing together. They had never been in love. Neither asked the other for anything, and one always understood when the other had to cancel plans. There were no hurt feelings to try and manage or kids to raise.

  Her hands wrapped around her waist, and she looked at him squarely, bravely revealing the rest of herself. “But I can’t complain, you know? I had a wonderful mother. My father wasn’t great; he walked out on us when I was six, and maybe that’s what bothered me so much about Brian. I should have known. I should have seen the signs that we weren’t number one in his life. Just like my father.” She shook her head and stared up at the ceiling.

  “What about your father?”

  “The few memories I have of him aren’t really the best. He was miserable. I remember hiding when he’d come home from school. I’d sit in my closet with a flashlight and draw. I’d draw happy people. Families at parks. I’d draw anything that wasn’t my life. I vowed when I found that I was pregnant with Christopher that there would not be one day that my child would ever question whether or not he was loved. Because that doesn’t go away, Evan. It stays with a person. As much as I’ve grown up, I carry it with me.

  “I will never forget the day my father walked out that front door. He never protected me, never laughed with me or took me to the park. It shouldn’t have hurt so much when he left. But it did. I used to think that parents had to love their children; it was a given, right? But that wasn’t true, not when parents see their children as the cause of their misery. He turned his back on us.”

  “Grace, I’m sorry.” Evan’s throat was clogged with emotion as he imagined Grace as a quiet little girl watching her father leave, feeling not good enough. But this, that feeling of not being good enough for a parent he could relate to. It was something he’d never spoken to anyone about.

  “Don’t be. In the end, I was left with a wonderful mother. Even though we didn’t have much, I knew that I was important to her. I knew if my mom held my hand, that wherever she led me, we’d be okay. One night before Christmas, she led me into the shelter on Gerrard. I didn’t know it right then, but it was going to be our home for a few months. I still love that place, because everyone was so kind to us.

  “When my mom died, I felt like I lost the only person in the world I could truly count on. One night, I was lying here on the couch, Chris on my chest, finally getting him to sleep after a night of crying. And I was zoned. Just watching TV and wishing my mom were still here with me. And I just wanted to hold her hand again, to see where she would take me. I would never again hold the hand that gave me comfort.”

  Evan couldn’t breathe and couldn’t utter a word as she looked up at the ceiling, visibly struggling for control. “But then Chris, my little one-year-old, reached out and locked hands with mine, and I knew he was my new reason for living. So that day that you saved us, Evan, I will never ever be able to repay you.”

  This time, when the tears poured from her eyes, he walked across the room, leaving his doubts, his goddamn stupid beliefs on the couch and gathered her into his arms. This time, he let himself feel everything he’d shut himself off from so long ago.

  …

  Grace was aware that something was different. Something had changed. When he gently lowered his head, the moonlight that streamed through the window exposed the unmistakable tenderness in his eyes, the determination on his face. She still couldn’t speak. She’d told him everything. Her body brushed against the hard, strong lines of his as he stood in front of her.

  “Grace,” he murmured. She squeezed her eyes shut at the emotion in that rough whisper. At the tenderness as his hands cupped her face. They were warm, large, and so gentle. This was Evan. But when his lips made their way to slowly, achingly kiss and drink the wetness on her face, she let her head fall against his hard chest. His hands roughly moved to the back of her head, holding her hair.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” The tenderness in his deep voice, in the hands that held her to him, was new to her. Grace held her breath when his eyes went from hers to her lips. She sucked in her breath when his head ducked close to hers, a mere inch from her mouth.

  “Evan,” she breathed.

  “God, I want you,” he rasped before his mouth captured hers. He destroyed every ounce of fear, every wall she’d ever put up, as his firm lips claimed hers. His hands plunged into her hair, and his hard body locked against hers until her entire reality was Evan. She opened her lips, her mouth welcoming his exploration. Evan kissed her like no one man ever had. He consumed, possessed and cherished her until her knees gave out. He scooped her up in his arms and seconds later they were in her bedroom, locking the door behind them.

  His hands moved from her head and roamed her body, the palms of his hands grazing the side of her breasts, the heat from his skin warming her through the cotton of her shirt. She sighed against his mouth when his fingers grasped the edge of her shirt and pulled it over her head, letting it fall to the ground.

  She pulled at his shirt, and seconds later it was gone. She reveled in the sight of his body, lean muscles and tanned skin. And then her eyes lingered on his arm. She took his arm in her hands, cradling it, the uneven, rough texture of the scars a poignant reminder of what he’d done. “I just want to say…” She paused for a moment, tears clogging her throat, but she wanted him to hear, before she lost herself in Evan. She trailed the outline of his biceps, up his hot flesh, delighting in the ripple of muscle beneath her palms, until her hands reached the nape of his neck. “Thank you—”

  “Don’t,” he grated. “Don’t say thank you to me.” He wouldn’t let her speak, his mouth already on hers again, this time demanding and powerful, until her knees wobbled. His hands moved restlessly down her body until they settled on her hips, his hands tugging the sides of her jeans until he pulled them down. His eyes were on her, everywhere, as she stepped out of them. His stubble pricked at her skin as his mouth wandered down her neck and shoulders, pausing for a moment at the swelling flesh above her bra and then lower, until he knelt down, kissing the soft flesh below her navel.

  She sucked in her breath as his hair tickled her skin, and his lips opened onto her flesh, above the line of her underwear. She grasped his strong shoulders to steady herself as he slipped them down her thighs until they fell to her feet. His hands held her hips, and he traced the scar that encompassed half her abdomen. She tried to cover it. She knew how ugly it was. This wasn’t what she wanted him to see. Her body had changed after Chris.

  But before insecurity could spoil the moment, Evan gently, firmly pushed her hands away and traced small kisses along the entire line. And then he stood, cupping her face in his hands, backing them onto the bed. And then he was there, everywhere.

  She let herself go, welcoming his touch, his love. His blue eyes, stormy, filled with the same burning passion that she was feeling, met hers. “God, I want you, Grace.” Evan’s mouth swooped down to claim hers as his body covered hers. He claimed her insecurities, her heartache, and her loneliness.

  …

  Evan lay on his back, staring at the ceiling of Grace’s apartment. It was early morning, and not a sound other than the distant hum of city traffic could be heard. He glanced over at Grace. Her dark hair was tousled around her shoulders and splayed across the white pillow. Her fine features were relaxed, and she looked young and beautiful. And he had no idea what the hell he was going to do now.

  He’d woken during the night to give Christopher another dose of medication. The memory of Chris saying that Grace had told him an angel had saved them replayed in his mind. It reminded him of when he had been a kid and had an unwavering faith and belief in good and right. But Grace still believed in angels and miracles, and he believed in science and facts. She’d had more faith than he ever had. And then the image of them trapped in that car haunted hi
m, because now he knew them. They weren’t strangers anymore. They were so much more. He’d just spent the best night of his life with Grace. All he knew was that right now, he was going to enjoy this. His time with her and her son.

  Grace stirred beside him, turning her face into the pillow and stretching under the covers. He leaned over, placing a kiss on her bare shoulder. One eye opened and then she smiled at him until he was grinning at her. “Good morning, Ronald,” he whispered.

  She gasped and then punched him in the stomach. “How did you know about that?”

  He caught her fist, laughing, before rolling over and pinning her under him. “I heard you mumbling in front of the mirror. For the record, you have way better hair. Much sexier,” he said, leaning forward and giving her a kiss.

  “Evan, what time is it? I should go check on Christopher,” she said.

  He kissed her shoulder. “I already did. He’s still sleeping soundly.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He frowned, reaching for his phone on the nightstand as it vibrated, a text message coming through. He braced himself on his forearms, not wanting to leave Grace. It was from his brother, Quinn. For chrissakes, he could bet ten bucks he knew exactly what this text was going to be about. He had no idea how his poor sister-in-law was dealing with Quinn. He was usually the levelheaded, calm guy, but ever since Holly had become pregnant, he’d been a wreck.

  “Hold on a sec,” he said to Grace. “My brother, Quinn.”

  Holly’s having contractions for the last forty minutes. This is it.

  Evan cursed under his breath. This was the fifth time his brother had contacted him this week.

  “Is something wrong?” Grace asked.

  “No, Quinn just thinks Holly’s going into labor. Every. Day.” He typed in a message. Relax. This is not it. Call me if they’re ten minutes apart. There. That should do it. “Holly’s been having Braxton Hicks contractions on and off, but he keeps thinking it’s the real deal. They always go away in an hour.”

  His phone vibrated again. They are twelve minutes. Then fifteen. Then Thirteen.

  Evan pounded the keypad. That’s not ten.

  He didn’t bother putting his phone away until Quinn texted him again. And seconds later his brother’s reply came in. FU.

  “I love your family.” She laughed, reading over his shoulder.

  “They’re one of a kind.”

  “I think I’m going to take a quick shower before Chris gets up,” she said, taking all the covers in the process.

  “Thanks, Grace. I don’t need covers.”

  She smiled but didn’t look him in the eye as she tossed him the blanket, keeping the sheet for herself and almost falling in the process. She was across the room in a second.

  “Grace?”

  She turned around to look at him and that vulnerability he’d seen far too often from her was back on her face. Because of him. “You okay?”

  She nodded and then ducked out of the room.

  He cursed quietly as he fumbled for his jeans. He knew last night meant a lot for her. And it had for him as well. She wasn’t just any woman. Now he just needed to figure out how they’d be able to walk away from each other in a few weeks, without any hurt.

  He looked around the small bedroom. Now that it was daytime, the signs of wear and tear were more evident. It was obvious there wasn’t any extra money for the usual items that would make a home more comfortable. The space held only a closet, two simple nightstands, and a black chair in the corner. The place was neat and tidy, and there wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere. It wasn’t poverty level, but it wasn’t a typical middle-class home either.

  He turned around, breath trapped in his lungs as he noticed the wall at the far end of the room. Early morning sunlight spilled through the window, highlighting the dozens of photographs of Christopher and Grace in simple, black frames. He slowly walked over to get a closer look, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He studied Chris as a newborn, baby, and toddler. Christopher’s smile he recognized—it was Grace’s. Moisture stung the backs of his eyes and blurred his vision as he viewed every picture. Since when did he want to know everything about a woman?

  Chapter Twelve

  Grace was in the kitchen, unaware that he was standing in the doorway. He took in the sight of her, her hair damp and falling into dark waves down her back. Her pink T-shirt and dark jeans clung to curves that he’d spent the night admiring with his hands and mouth. As if she sensed his presence she turned, her mouth opening when their eyes made contact.

  “Hey,” she said, picking up the coffee carafe and filling it with water. Evan walked to stand in the doorway to the tiny kitchen. A small white table was pushed against the wall, and two white chairs sat at opposite ends. The kitchen was a cheery yellow, and a few potted herbs were on the windowsill above the small sink.

  “Hi.”

  “Coffee?” she asked, taking the lid off a canister.

  “Please,” he said.

  “At least it stopped raining,” she said, before spooning in the appropriate amount of coffee grinds. “Christopher seems to be sleeping well,” she said. The politeness was killing him. He knew she was scared. Once they had gotten out of bed, reality had hit. He wanted to offer her reassurances, to say that she didn’t need to worry, that he’d be around for the long haul, but he couldn’t.

  She walked over to a cupboard beside the coffeemaker, and took down two mugs.

  The coffee percolating sounded loud as they stood there.

  She poured the steaming liquid into the cups and handed him one. “Thanks,” he said his fingers brushing against hers, startled by how cold she was.

  “I don’t have any milk or anything fresh. But you take your coffee black don’t you?”

  “You’re still here,” Christopher said, appearing in the doorway. He gave Evan a sleepy smile that tugged at all his heartstrings. “Don’t worry, Dr. Nevan, I get sick all the time. No need to be scared,” he said leaning back to look at Evan.

  He noticed Christopher’s eyes were almost completely identical to Grace’s. Except Chris’s were filled with unabashed happiness, innocence, and adoration. “I’m just really happy to see you.”

  “Good morning, sweetie,” Grace said in a soft, if not shaky voice. She leaned down to give him a kiss on the head. “Are you hungry?”

  Christopher nodded eagerly.

  “Okay, have a seat, and I’ll see what I can come up with.” She peered into the refrigerator.

  “Do we have bacon and eggs?” Christopher sat down across from Evan.

  Evan smiled. “That’s my favorite, too.”

  “Sorry, love. How about toast with jam?” Grace asked, hands on her hips. Evan ripped his eyes from the sight of her breasts straining against the pink T-shirt. There was a child in the room, and he needed to keep his thoughts PG.

  Christopher nodded. “Okay, that sounds good. Can we stay here today? Maybe I can play in my room for a while?”

  Grace looked over at Evan. Evan nodded. “That’s fine by me. It’s probably a good idea for you to have an easy day, Chris.”

  “Maybe I’ll run out to the grocery store, pick up a few fresh things, and I can make you some chicken soup?” She was busy toasting the bread that she’d retrieved from the freezer.

  “My mom makes the best chicken soup ever,” Christopher said, leaning forward at the table.

  Evan smiled as Grace placed a plate of toast in front of Christopher. “Here you go. I found some juice boxes, too,” she said, placing one in front of him. “Evan, can I get you something?”

  “I’m not much of a breakfast eater,” he said taking a sip of coffee.

  “Do you wanna play with me? I have loads of stuff in my room,” Christopher said, in between giant mouthfuls of toast.

  “Sure, buddy.”

  “Evan, you don’t have to—”

  “I want to. Really.” It was the least he could do. Because somehow, someway, he was going to have to leave
them in a few weeks. But right now he was here, and this kid saw something in him, so he’d go with it. Then he’d figure out how the hell he was going to leave…

  “Um, okay, you can play, and I’ll head out to the store. Chris, you make sure you listen to Evan, okay?” Grace said softly, leaning against the counter.

  Christopher nodded, slurping the last of the juice from the box. Evan watched her, even though she was looking into her mug.

  “Evan, I wanted to ask you if you have some room in your trunk…would you mind if I brought back some of my art work?” The hesitation in her voice and the vulnerability in her eyes tugged at him.

  “Of course, that’s fine,” he said. “But I get to see them first, don’t I?” She stood in the doorway.

  “Sure.”

  “Is this for the gallery Holly mentioned?”

  Her flush deepened, and she nodded. “It’s actually a really long shot. But I’m meeting with them next Monday.”

  “You deserve a chance to get your work out there,” he said gruffly.

  She turned away from him, but not before he caught the sheen in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. It hit him then, how much he hated seeing her quiet and unsure. She was vulnerable, everything stripped down, and she was fragile. Like she doubted him. Like she regretted last night.

  “So I’ll get ready and head out to the store.” She looked awkwardly between him and Christopher. A thought occurred to him, and he quickly told Christopher he’d be right back. He walked to the front door where Grace was gathering her purse and getting her jacket from the hall closet.

  He cleared his throat. “Let me give you some money for the groceries.”

  She shook her head. “I have money. I know this doesn’t look like much, and—”

  “Don’t do that. I’m not going to have you buying me food,” he whispered, very aware that Chris was in the other room. He smiled. “Besides, I eat a lot.” He pulled out more than enough bills and then opened her hand, pressing it in. “Don’t argue.”