by Robin Gianna
Which was the best explanation for why he’d kissed her in the park. He’d been filled with an overwhelming fear when he’d seen she was gone with Yorkie, and he’d practically run from the apartment to find her. His relief had been joined by anger, and he’d kissed her before he’d even known he was going to.
Then the taste of her, which he’d missed more than he’d realized, the feel of her in his arms, the sweet scent of her, had robbed him of breath. Taken over his senses until he’d felt delirious with it. It was a good thing it hadn’t come over him that way in his apartment, because he just might have picked her up and carried her to the bed, begged her to make love with him, broken wrist or not.
And what a terrible mistake that would have been. He absolutely refused to do anything that would hurt her any more than he already had.
He rubbed his hand down his face. Time to somehow get his mind off of her—and the best way to do that was to take care of the tasks in front of him. Paperwork on patients. Checks on his investments and stocks. Looking at the financials for some of his businesses. A few phone calls and emails to the Urgent Care Manhattan decision-makers to set up a new meeting—which had to happen soon.
Thinking about it not working out added another layer of stress to the turmoil already swirling in his head so he tried to refocus. Pulled up some X-rays for patients he’d be doing surgery on in the morning.
And then just as he’d thought he was nicely back in the work groove, he found himself texting Jill.
You doing okay?
She didn’t answer, which probably meant she was sleeping. Or at least he hoped so.
The niggle of worry that he knew was ridiculous had him finishing up as quickly as possible. He strode through the teeming crowds on the sidewalk to get to his apartment, and when he saw a family waiting for the elevator he ran up the nine flights of stairs to get there faster.
When he shoved open the door, his relief at seeing her quietly sitting there reading, with the dogs on either side of the chair, weakened his knees.
“Hey. How are you feeling?”
She looked up and her eyes met his. It seemed impossible that just that simple connection made his heart beat harder, but he knew hurrying through the crowds and running up the stairs wasn’t the reason he felt breathless.
“I’m okay. Feeling antsy to get out of here and take the dogs for a walk, but I figured you’d go ballistic if you came back and I was gone again.”
“And you’d care about me getting upset?”
“I’m an occupational therapist—that means I care about people. So of course I don’t want to worry you—though why you get worried about me, I don’t know.”
She should know. He tried hard not show it, but he worried about a lot of things. And, since he would always care about her, he worried about her, too. But he wasn’t going to go there.
“Are you hungry?”
“I ate the last black banana and found some granola in a bag in your cupboard, so, no. Not yet. Though how you keep your healthy physique without any food in your place I have no clue.”
“I eat out a lot. As you know.” He watched her gaze slide down his aforementioned physique and tried not to get aroused by her unexpected perusal. “What do you think about walking the dogs together? So we can both get some fresh air?”
“I was thinking I’d walk Yorkie by myself. Then you can take Hudson out. Before you go back to work.”
“I’m not going back to work.”
“You’re not?” She looked at him as though she found that incredible, but her being here was a special circumstance, wasn’t it?
“Not tonight. I’ll hold their leashes and you can stroll along at whatever pace feels good to you.”
“Didn’t we just talk earlier about how it’s weird and uncomfortable to be around each other again? I want to enjoy being outdoors, not feel nervous.”
“I make you nervous?”
“You know you do. Or uncomfortable...or sad...or... I don’t know, exactly, but I can’t say I enjoy the sensation.”
He wanted to lean toward her, touch her soft cheek and put a word to what she felt, what sensation might be happening to both of them, but forced himself to stay put. “I know I wasn’t a good husband, Jillian. That I let you down. I do. But it would be nice if we could be friends. Or at least not enemies. Wouldn’t it?”
“I... I suppose this time together could help us be a little more friendly than the last time we saw each other. And a walk sounds nice.” Her troubled expression lifted a little. “You can’t let dogs off-leash in Central Park until after nine, or before nine in the morning. But there’s a small dog park not too far from here that a friend told me about. I take them to the one close to my apartment and they love running around there. Plus I read that there’s a burger shack right around the corner from there, where we can grab some food and a milkshake.”
“I remember how much you love a vanilla shake.” Without thinking, he reached out to stroke the bump on her forehead. “You can hold the cold cup against your head before you drink it.”
“Or not.” She sent him an adorable crooked smile. “Okay, that’s the plan. Give me five minutes to try to look presentable. Though I learned today that’s pretty impossible, since my hair ended up looking a little like I’d stuck it in a blender after I washed it.”
“I noticed it wasn’t in its usual smooth, sleek fall down your shoulders, or in that messy bun you like to wear the rest of the time.”
“Yeah... I also learned there’s no way I can get it in a bun one-handed, and drying it without using a brush in my other hand does not turn out well.”
“Are you taking notes? These are good things for a hand surgeon and occupational therapist to know.”
“Don’t laugh, but I actually am. I figure I’ll give a presentation to the OTs after I’ve gone through all this. Maybe come up with some new ideas for patients as I go along.”
“Not laughing at all. It’s a good idea.”
He’d been to a few of her professional talks in the past, both about her work and how she’d become a runner after her leg surgery. Her energy and warmth made her the kind of speaker who held everyone’s attention, and he remembered feeling proud of her when others had told him how impressed they were.
“Make sure us surgeons hear it, too. Sometimes it’s easy to focus on the bones and forget how surgery affects a person’s everyday life. You’re such a good speaker—I know everyone would get a lot out of it.”
She sent him a smile so pleased it was as though in simply speaking the truth he’d given her a gift, and his chest expanded the way it had back when they were together. Back when she’d looked at him as if he was some kind of superhero.
That thought deflated the pleasure filling his chest, because it hadn’t taken too long for her to totally change her view about that.
“Thanks. That’s a nice thing for you to say. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”
He decided to stay in his scrubs for their visit to a dog park, and sat to scratch the pups’ ears while he waited for her. When she stepped back into the room he smiled at her only slightly less messy hair, but decided it would be better not to comment on it. No reason to have her irritated with him before they’d even started their agreed-upon friendly outing.
“Ready?”
“As ready as is currently possible.”
Once they were out on the sidewalk, he reached for her hand to keep her steady, but she tugged it away.
“I’ll be fine. I’m learning to walk a little more slowly than usual, paying attention to make sure I don’t somehow stumble and fall. You helping me isn’t going to accomplish that.”
He nodded, but the truth was that steadying her hadn’t been the foremost thought in his head. Memories of all the times he’d held her hand had made it seem like the most natural thing in the world to reach for her th
at way.
He stuffed his free hand into his pocket as they walked the few blocks to the dog park. Both were mostly quiet, enjoying the crisp December air. He found himself enjoying being close to her, strolling along as though the ugly past between them hadn’t happened. As if they were the two people they’d been for that wonderful short time, wildly in love. He tried to shove down how bad that made him feel now.
“It’s good we’re taking them to the park today,” he commented when the silence had stretched on a little too long. “Supposed to get colder and rain later in the week.”
“Well, that’s a bummer. Rainy New York is not my favorite.”
“It’s nobody’s favorite. Except for that time we were under an umbrella in Central Park, walking through that downpour. Laughing at how our shoes were soaking wet and yours were making loud squeaking sounds. Squeezing close together to try to stay dry as the wind blew rainwater all over us. Kissing and holding one another.” Without thinking, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pressed her close to his side. “That was probably my favorite day ever in the city.”
Her eyes shadowed and she pulled loose from his hold and looked in the other direction, which made him want to thrash himself. Why had that stupid memory come out of his mouth? Probably because the mention of rain as they’d walked close to one another had brought that day into vivid recollection, and his chest physically hurt, because he knew it would never happen again.
“There’s the dog park,” she said abruptly, pointing. “They can play first, then when they’re tired we’ll get some food and sit on a bench to eat.”
“Whatever you want.”
To take his attention from Jillian’s sad expression, and the way his heart was squeezing in his chest, he looked around the area at all the people with their dogs. “I’ve never been in this park before. It’s nice. With Central Park so close to work and my apartment, that’s where I usually go.”
“You take time to relax in Central Park? Doesn’t sound like you.”
“You got me started on running to clear my head. I do that sometimes.”
Talking about his focus on work and his other failings wasn’t his favorite conversation to have with her, so he was glad the dogs had started pulling hard on their leashes and wagging their tails.
“They’re pretty excited, aren’t they? Do you put Yorkie in the little dog area, or keep him with Hudson?”
“Is that a real question?” She grinned up at him. “You know as well as I do that Yorkie has a big personality inside that little body. He does fine with Hudson.”
He opened the iron gate to the park, unclipped their leashes, and both dogs took off across the gravel surface, excitedly running with the other animals there.
“Good thing you’re wearing your scrubs instead of nice pants. Benches are usually none too clean in a dog park, which is why I wore these old sweats,” she said as they sat.
“I figure old sweatpants will be your uniform for a while, until you can use your bad hand to zip and button again.”
“Hey, I have new sweatpants, too, that don’t make me look so ratty. I figure I’ll mix up the tattered and un-tattered days.”
“Old ones are looser—easier to slide up and down. The newer ones I helped you pull up yesterday will take more work.”
Memories of seeing her smooth skin, touching it as he helped her dress, and the entire conversation about dressing and undressing, made him feel short of breath.
Maybe she could tell where his mind had gone, because she turned away and pointed down the street. “You know, I’ve never been able to decide if I like the design of the Guggenheim or not so much. What do you think of it?”
“I like it. But my favorites are the Flatiron Building, Grand Central Terminal, the New York Public Library... And I can’t leave out the Empire State Building, and the—”
“Are you going to name every iconic building in the city?” She laughed. “But I agree—and I’ve taken pictures of all of them. Along with Brooklyn Bridge and St. Patrick’s Cathedral and a lot of others. After we...we broke up, I decided to take a photography class. I really enjoyed it. And now I just realized that’s yet another thing I won’t be able to do for a while. Can’t hold a camera and take pics with only one hand.”
“It won’t be too long until you can manage that.” Her frustrated frown had him reaching to cup her cheek in his hand, until he realized what he was about to do and dropped it. “I noticed a few photos on the wall of your apartment but I had no idea you took them. That’s awesome. Could I talk you into letting me buy a few for my office wall?”
He’d love to have some photos she’d taken, to remember her by.
As if he needed anything to look at for that.
“I don’t sell them—it’s just for fun. But if you’d want a few I’ll print them out.”
“Thank you. Tell me about the class and where you took it.”
The subject was a safe one, and she chatted about it as they watched the dogs run and play. Eventually both animals slowed down, tongues hanging out, and when Jillian stood up he went to retrieve them.
“There’s a hose and a bowl for water over there,” she said. “After you get them something to drink we can go to the burger shack.”
“Dying for that vanilla shake?”
“Been thinking of nothing else for the past half hour.”
He got busy getting the dogs some water. “Where’s this burger place?” he asked.
“I think just around the corner. And they have...are you ready?...chicken ice cream for dogs. They love it.”
“Chicken ice cream? You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Being next to the dog run, they sell a ton of it. Maybe you should give it a try, just so you know what they’re eating.”
“Think I’ll stick with a burger, thanks all the same.”
They shared a laugh, and Conor again had that urge to put his arm around her shoulders. They sat on a bench to enjoy their treats, and just as Conor was feeling as relaxed as possible around Jillian his phone rang. Digging it out of his pocket, he saw it was the lawyer who’d put together all the legal papers to present to Peter Stanford at Urgent Care Manhattan when they discussed becoming partners.
“Conor McCarthy.”
“Hello, Conor, it’s Sam Smith. I met with the new investors you told me about, and I’ve revised the paperwork accordingly. Thought you might want to read through it as soon as possible, since I know you’re planning to reschedule your meeting with the Manhattan Urgent Care people soon. I faxed it to your office, and your secretary told me she’d put it on your desk.”
“Appreciate that. Definitely want all the numbers to be up to date when we meet. I’ll call you as soon as I have the date and time finalized.”
He hung up and looked at Jillian, enjoying the soft, relaxed look on her face as she lounged near him, hoping it wouldn’t get all disdainful when he told her he needed to stop into the office.
“Would you mind walking to HOAC with me? You don’t have to if you’re tired. I can take the dogs there and meet you back at my apartment. Or you can come with me and we’ll grab a taxi to take you home while I walk back.”
“I’m not tired. And I’m enjoying this dry weather while it lasts. Anyway, I need to get my strength back to start running again.”
“Okay, but promise me no running for eight weeks to make sure the plate and bones are fused?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
His heart got that funny feeling again, squeezing and expanding at the amusement on her beautiful face, at his memories of better times together.
He didn’t trust himself to speak, and they walked mostly silently together the five blocks to HOAC. It was past seven, and long closed for the day, but as they approached he could see a boy of about ten pounding on the door.
“Need something, buddy?” Conor asked as they stop
ped next to him.
He turned with a grimace on his face and panic in his eyes. “I need a doctor who can fix my arm.”
Conor’s gaze moved to where he was pointing. The misshapen elbow joint and swelling were impossible to miss.
CHAPTER FIVE
JILLIAN WATCHED CONOR carefully reach for the boy’s injured arm and lean closer to look at it. “How did this happen?”
“Part of the sidewalk was cracked and raised up and I didn’t notice. My skateboard banged into it and I flew off into the corner of a building. Hurts real bad. I knew this place was here, so I came.”
“Do you have a phone? Did you try to call your parents?”
“Don’t have a phone.”
“Here.” Conor dug into his pocket. “I’ll call them for you and you can talk to them. You need to go to an urgent care department to get this taken care of.”
“I want to go inside this place and have them fix it. Why can’t I do that?”
Jillian’s and Conor’s eyes met. His lips twisted. “It’s not open right now. And you need your parents’ consent before anyone can get X-rays and take care of you.”
“I don’t know if my mom’ll answer. This time of day she’s probably in a bar somewhere.”
Jill’s heart hurt for this boy whose mother apparently wasn’t always there for him—something which she couldn’t imagine, having been raised by wonderful, supportive parents. She looked up and saw that Conor’s lips were pressed together.
“How about your dad? He wouldn’t need to come here—we just need to talk to him and get permission to take you to get some care.”
“I don’t have a dad.” Looking even more worried, the boy jerked his thumb at the door. “You sure this place is closed?”
“Yes. But I’m a surgeon here. Maybe there’s something I can do.” Conor’s eyes met hers again. “Let’s try to call your mom and we’ll go from there. What’s your name?”
“Noah Thomas.”
