This Time for Keeps (Doctors of Rittenhouse Square Book 3)

by Jill Blake

  Until finally he realized the futility of the process, and understood that it wasn’t about him at all. It was about Cristina and her needs. For whatever reason, she had needed something he couldn’t—wouldn’t—provide. And what he wanted and needed—a wife who valued fidelity, a family and children of his own—it turned out Cristina hadn’t been willing to give.

  Teresa sighed into the silence. “Mama is not going to live forever, Luca. She wants to see you happy and settled.”

  “Is there something wrong with her health?”

  “No, nothing like that. But she worries. You’re her only son.”

  “I’m fine.” He tapped his fingers on the table where his laptop rested. “I have a brilliant career, haven’t you heard? And this IPO will make us loads of money. Mama will be able to put up her feet and relax without ever having to worry again that the weather is too cold for grapes to ripen.”

  “It’s not about money, Luca. She wants grandkids.”

  “She has grandkids. Last I checked, two grandsons and a granddaughter.”

  “It’s not the same, and you know it.”

  “This isn’t like the old days, Teresa. People back home aren’t having passels of kids anymore. Contraceptives are managing to control the population quite nicely, despite whatever the Church keeps telling us. Mama should be grateful she has more than her share of grandchildren.”

  “You’re missing the point, Luca. Here people are limited by the economy. Your situation is different. You’re in America, with money to burn. And you’re thirty-seven and not getting any younger.”

  He sighed. Teresa was right. Thirty-seven, divorced, cynical, and until recently with no marital prospects in sight. That thought brought him to a halt. Until recently…?

  Was he really considering Isabelle for the role? Was that what his pursuit of her these last weeks was all about?

  He’d thought about her on and off through the years, and always regretted the way they’d parted. The issues that he’d thought were insurmountable then, like her career, had changed. She’d transitioned away from the job where insane hours might have made a reasonable family life difficult, and replaced it with a job that…what? Had fewer hours? Maybe not, if one considered the time spent traveling.

  But he’d changed. He’d come to understand what was truly important in a relationship. And the career, it turned out, was the least of it. Other women made it work. His partners’ wives were a case in point. Samantha was a physician too. Until recently she had been solely responsible for the care of the entire population of Oakridge and its environs. According to both Alex and Ross, she’d handled her responsibilities admirably. She was enterprising, working diligently to expand the urgent care over the past few years, hiring on and overseeing an array of ancillary staff, and taking her medical skills out into the community as one of a rotation of medical personnel on the sidelines of the local high school’s sports events. From what he’d observed on the frequent occasions when he’d been to their house for meetings, Samantha managed to do it all while still being a wonderful mother to two active children and what Alex called his “better half.”

  Luca had judged her a bit harshly when they’d first met, but over the last few years of getting to know her through her husband, he realized that despite the serious demeanor, she was actually a lovely person, and devoted to her family.

  Jane, too, maintained an active career as Oakridge’s only psychiatrist, seeing patients out of an office in Samantha’s clinic, as well as doing inpatient consults at several of the local hospitals. She participated in Samantha’s rotation of team sports doctors, claiming that it helped keep up her skills at treating people from the neck down, and was good practice for when her own kids would be playing sports.

  So it was clearly do-able, this balancing of career and family. It was just a matter of picking the right woman, the woman who wanted this as much as he did. Despite all his protestations over the years since his divorce that he was not interested in marriage and kids, for the first time in a long while he felt like this was a path that might be worth pursuing. A path he’d found his way back to, after a long and painful detour.

  ###

  “So how was brunch with your friends?”

  They were in the kitchen, cutting peppers, zucchini, and eggplant into large cubes. Luca had already chopped the onions and garlic, along with an assortment of greens.

  “Good,” Isabelle said. “Sam’s pregnant.”

  “That is wonderful! Alex must be thrilled.” He adjusted Isabelle’s hold on the knife. “Though it’s funny he didn’t mention it on the phone today.”

  “He doesn’t know yet, so don’t you be the one telling him.”

  Luca frowned. “Why would Samantha tell you and not her own husband?”

  Belatedly recalling Luca’s experience with his ex-wife, Isabelle hastened to reassure him. “It’s early days. She only found out this morning herself. Of course she’ll tell him.”

  “Good. Honesty is very important in a marriage.” He started on the tomatoes. “Three is a good number.”

  “What?”

  “Three children. Plenty of activity and laughter, but still manageable.”

  “Maybe. I guess it depends on your perspective. As the youngest of three, I can tell you I’d often wished I was an only child.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Clearly you’ve never had an older brother who sticks his nose in your business. Do you know how embarrassing it is when your date is afraid to kiss you, because your brother took him aside for a ‘little talk’?” She poked him in the ribs with an elbow. “It’s not funny.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Teresa wasn’t even allowed out of the house at sixteen.”

  “Well, then, I guess I should count my blessings.”

  He laughed. “I’d like to meet this brother of yours.”

  “He’s a bit better behaved these days.”

  “What about your sister?”

  “Emma’s always lorded it over me, even though she’s only a year and a half older. You’d think it would be easier now that we’re adults, but motherhood seems to have brought out all her bossy instincts. She has two boys, and considers herself an expert on all matters domestic, which makes her really insufferable at times.”

  “I thought you liked your family.”

  “I love them. I especially love being an aunt. But growing up with two older siblings?” She wrinkled her nose. “Not so much.”

  “But you still get together regularly at your parents’ house?”

  “Every holiday and birthday for sure. Between my brother and sister and their kids, and all the aunts, uncles, cousins, and their kids—believe me, there are plenty of birthdays to celebrate.”

  “Che è bello.”

  His wistful tone made her pause. “You must miss your family. How often do you get to see them?”

  “A couple times a year, maybe. I have some co-authors at the University of Salerno, so I go there to visit and work. Elena and Teresa don’t travel much. It’s tough for them to leave the kids and the vineyard.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “We Skype.” He rummaged in the fridge for the package of spicy Italian sausages he’d bought yesterday. “Mama hasn’t traveled since my father died.”

  “When…?” she hesitated.

  “Ten years ago.” He poured olive oil into a pan and adjusted the flame. “Lung cancer. He smoked a pack a day from the time he was thirteen, and eventually it caught up with him.”

  “I’m sorry. Were you close?”

  He shrugged, turning the sausages so they browned evenly before setting them aside. Another pan, fresh olive oil, a quick glance at the cutting board to check her progress. “He was much older than my mother. Practically a different generation. He thought raising children was women’s work and fathers shouldn’t get involved.”

  Isabelle found it hard to fathom that kind of attitude. Her own f
ather, despite running a busy medical practice, had always made time for his children. He’d attended most of Marc’s baseball games and Emma’s concerts and Isabelle’s dressage competitions, even if he had to occasionally come late or duck out early because of medical emergencies. Marc was similarly hands-on with his kids. She wondered what Luca would be like as a father.

  The thought stopped her short.

  Just because her friends were busily propagating didn’t mean she was ready to head down that same path. Okay, so maybe she was a teensy bit envious of their charmed lives. Loving husbands, fulfilling careers: what woman wouldn’t want that?

  But there was a long road between sleeping with a man and having his babies. And she’d already been burnt by this particular man once before. She wasn’t sure she could trust him not to do it again.

  “Come, Bella, I’ll show you the secret to making the perfect Italian dish.”

  She set the knife down and turned, glad for the distraction. Then she saw the glass bowl in his hand and raised a brow. “Garlic? That’s your secret?”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled and he leaned in close. “The secret,” he said sotto voce, “is to not burn the garlic.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Believe me, Bella, it takes a great deal of practice to learn the proper technique of sautéing garlic. First you warm the oil over medium-low heat. Then you stir in the garlic and sauté. Not long, just a minute or two.” He pulled her into the cradle of his arms, so that they stood in front of the range, her back pressed against his chest, his left hand resting on her hip, his right handling a wooden spatula. “Press it with a spatula to release the flavors, like this. When it turns the palest gold, remove it. Bene. We will add it back in at the very end.”

  She wiggled her bottom against him, gratified to feel his response. He splayed his fingers over her lower abdomen, stilling her movement. “Behave, Bella. We still need to do the vegetables. After that, we’ll have an hour while everything simmers on a low flame.”

  She smiled, content for the moment to wait. She might not have a picture-perfect life, but she had great family and friends, and a smoking hot Italian lover who was teaching her how to cook.

  All things considered, not a bad place to be.

  Chapter 15

  The days leading up to Friday’s IPO passed in a flurry of meetings, leaving Luca short on sleep and even shorter on patience. Though his thoughts were never far from Bella, he barely had the opportunity to text or talk with her, let alone see her. He would be glad when this was over, so he could regain some sense of normalcy and get back to the things that mattered.

  He spent the last day cloistered with Alex, Ross, a slew of accountants, bankers, and lawyers. By evening, it was a fait accompli. The share price was approved and announced. Millions of shares were issued through the company’s underwriters and sold to mutual funds, pension funds, hedge funds, brokerage houses, and a few lucky individual investors.

  The following morning, Luca, Alex, and Ross rang the opening bell on the floor of New York Stock Exchange, signaling the official start of public trading of MegaData Analytics stock. For them, it was a largely ceremonial gesture. The exchange of capital for company equity was already concluded before the first open market transaction even took place. Their part in the IPO process was done.

  The stock price fluctuated throughout the day, finally closing at nearly thirty percent above the opening price. Luca rode out the wave of euphoria that gripped his partners and the other company executives. He kept checking his watch, waiting for the final press conference of the day to wrap up and the last of the interviews to end, so he could get home, shed his suit, and call Bella.

  Ross ducked out early to get back to his pregnant wife in Oakridge. Alex followed soon after, muttering something about pregnancy hormones and a change of plans. Apparently Samantha had broken the news to him earlier in the week, and the romantic getaway Alex had been looking forward to having with his wife was now on hold, pending an improvement in her near-constant state of nausea.

  As the only officially unattached member of their trio, Luca was left to handle the post-close-of-market media circuit. It was well past eight by the time he finally managed to get away.

  He dialed Bella’s number while sitting in traffic on the New Jersey Turnpike, but after four rings the call went to voicemail. His text went unanswered. An hour later he tried calling again, but she still didn’t pick up. He briefly considered bypassing Princeton and driving straight to her place, but the possibility that she wasn’t home kept him from following through. Perhaps she was working late, or out with friends. Or maybe she’d decided to call it an early night and had turned off the ringer so she could get some sleep.

  Tomorrow morning would be soon enough. He’d take her for brunch, since she seemed to like that, and then maybe they could go back to her place and spend the rest of the day in bed. Too bad she’d reclaimed her spare key last weekend. She had left it for his use during her brunch with Jane and Samantha, but didn’t seem inclined to let him keep it. Not yet, anyway.

  He lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling. It was five days since he’d last seen Bella, and he missed her like crazy. His body felt twitchy, overstimulated. Closing his eyes, he could picture her, the way she’d looked last Sunday: dark hair spilling across the pillow, eyes languorous, lips kiss-swollen, skin still flushed from lovemaking, rumpled sheet barely covering her naked breasts. He groaned and rolled to his side, willing his arousal to subside.

  Forget brunch. He could always cook something—after they made up for five days of enforced abstinence. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Cooking didn’t require leaving the house or even getting dressed. He could keep her naked all day. All weekend, even.

  He fell asleep, dreaming of a naked Bella.

  ###

  The panic hit mid-afternoon, as she was preparing to meet with Jake. She had forced herself to come to work this morning, silently repeating the mantra that it was just a day like any other. She would get through it, like she had the previous three hundred and sixty-five days since the shooting. She refused to lend the occasion any more power or significance by staying home and obsessing over what might have been.

  The NDA paperwork was submitted, and she was just starting to review the design of a new phase 2 trial when the chest pain and shortness of breath began.

  She fumbled for a propranolol, spilling the contents of her purse in the process. That was how Jake found her, kneeling on the floor of her office, surrounded by a scattering of coins, faded receipts, assorted pens, wadded tissues, wallet, keys, and the accumulated pharmacopeia she kept meaning to clean out.

  He rushed to her side. “What happened?”

  “I can’t stop shaking.”

  “Here, sit down.” He helped her into a chair. “You want some water?”

  She clutched his hand. “Don’t leave me.”

  “It’s okay, Diz, I’m not going anywhere.” He crouched in front of her, peering into her ashen face. “Tell me what to do.”

  She struggled to breathe. Spots danced in her vision.

  “Diz? Come on, head between the knees. Thatta girl.” He stroked her hair. “Should I call 911?”

  “No.” Her voice came out muffled. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”

  “It’s okay, take your time.”

  “I’m sorry.” She tried to sit up, but his hand maintained the gentle pressure on the back of her head. “You can let me up now.”

  “Sure?”

  “Yes.” She blinked at the sudden rush of lightheadedness. “Jake…?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m going to throw up.”

  He grabbed a nearby trash basket and shoved it in front of her. “Here.”

  She swallowed and closed her eyes. Cold sweat prickled along her hairline. It was several minutes before the nausea passed. She heard him move away and opened her eyes in alarm, then sagged back in her chair when she saw that
he was simply sweeping her belongings back into her bag.

  He looked up. “Better?”

  She nodded.

  “Let’s go, then, I’m taking you home.” He stood, pulling her up with him. She swayed, and he wrapped an arm around her. “Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you?”

  She managed a smile, even though her heart was still hammering so hard it felt like it would come out of her chest. “I’m fine. Wouldn’t want you to strain your back.”

  “Just for that,” he growled, dropping her purse and swinging her up in his arms.

  “Stop!” She clutched his shirt, her sense of dread receding a bit in the face of his antics. “Put me down.”

  “In case you haven’t heard,” he said, easing her to the ground until she was steady on her feet. “Forty is the new thirty.”

  “I believe it.” She picked up her bag and shook off his offer of assistance.

  In the parking lot, she hesitated. “I can drive myself.”

  Jake studied her still-pale features. “Humor me.”

  “Fine.” She slid into the passenger seat of his Porsche. Tomorrow, she’d make arrangements to retrieve her own car. For now, she was grateful both for the ride and for his company.

  They were nearly to her house when she felt calm enough to raise the topic. “Can you stay?”

  “Of course.”

  “The night, I mean.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  He glanced at her briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “What about that guy you’re seeing?”

  “Luca?” She rummaged in her bag and frowned, realizing her iPhone wasn’t there. She must have left it on her desk at work. “He’s busy with some work thing.”

  “Ah.”

  She shifted in her seat. How to explain, when she wasn’t sure she understood it herself? Not the IPO part of it—Jake had taken his own company public several years ago and could probably describe the process in greater detail than she cared to hear. But putting into words her tumultuous feelings about Luca? There, she was at a complete loss. The fact was, their relationship was still quite tenuous. Someday, maybe, that might change. Someday they might even get to the point where Sam and Alex were. Isabelle had no doubt that if Sam called her husband in an emergency, Alex would drop everything and come running. The same went for Jane and Ross. As for Isabelle….She had her family, and her friends.