Leah giggles and kicks her feet. She smiles, showing off her three teeth. After several minutes of letting her play, I squirt some soap on a cloth and begin to wash her body. As I wipe the washcloth over her head and face, Leah sticks her tongue out at the exact moment. She coughs and spits, tasting the soap.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” Running the rag under the water, I wipe her face and tongue clean, making sure she doesn’t have any soap left on them.
Once Leah is clean, I rinse her off and wrap her in a towel. Lying her down on the changing table, she lets me put her diaper on without a fight. Slipping her head into her onesie, I quickly get her arms where they need to be and secure the snaps between her legs. Her denim jeans slide up her chunky thighs and I dress her in a pink shirt with a grey elephant on it. Not bothering with shoes because she’ll have them off in two minutes flat, her chubby little feet are covered in pink socks.
“Come on, princess. Mommy made your bottle.” We walk to the kitchen and I sit her in her highchair. Securing her bib around her neck, I adjust her seat back a little, and place the nipple of the bottle in her mouth. Her greedy little fingers hold her bottle tightly. Rolling up a dishtowel, I place it under the bottle to keep it in place and finish making her cereal.
When I pull the bottle out of her mouth, she squeals a little, until she sees the spoonful of cereal. “I know, you love your cereal. It has bananas in it today.”
Lifting the spoon to her mouth, she opens wide. Once the cereal is in her mouth, she sticks her tongue out, causing some to fall onto her bib. “You are one messy little girl.”
We continue our morning ritual. By the time Leah finishes her breakfast, I need another cup of coffee.
My phone rings and I swipe my fingers across the screen to answer it.
“Hi, Dad. Is everything okay?”
“Good morning, sweetheart. Yes, everything is okay. Mom wanted me to let you know you can drop Leah off to her. A few of her friends are coming over today for lunch. So, she’ll keep Leah up here.”
“Okay. She finished her breakfast, so she’ll be good till lunch.”
“What time are you done tonight?” he asks.
“Supposed to be eleven, but you know how it can be.”
“We’ll keep our little angel overnight. That way when you get home, you can crawl into bed and sleep soundly. Stop by in the morning before you head to work tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Dad. I love you. Tell Mom I love her, and I’ll be up in a little bit.”
“Love you, too, sweetheart.”
My phone vibrates alerting me of a text message. Peeking down, I see a new text from my cousin, asking how things are going and she misses me. It’s been a while since I’ve heard from her, so this text brings a smile to my face. I respond with a quick text letting her know things are good and we’re adjusting well in New York. She promises once her work schedule lets up, we will do dinner.
As I walk through the doors at Java House, I immediately spot Christian sitting at the table by the window. I make my way over, and Christian stands. “Good morning, gorgeous,” he says, letting out a low whistle.
“Good morning, Christian.”
He pulls out my chair for me to sit across from him. “What can I get you?”
“Caramel macchiato, please.”
“Save my seat for me, I’ll be right back.”
Christian walks away and I stare at his retreating body. He is attractive, there’s no denying that. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a crisp, light blue, button-down shirt. His sleeves are buttoned at his wrist, leaving his colorful tattoos hidden from my inquiring eyes.
After a few minutes, he returns with a tray holding the cups and a bag in his other hand. My eyes narrow at the bag.
He flashes a smile. “I wasn’t sure if you ate breakfast or not, so I got a few options for us. If you ate, you can take them to work for later.”
He pulls the chair out across from me and sits. I stare at Christian.
“Thank you, that was very thoughtful of you.”
He removes a chocolate doughnut with some sort of filling inside, a cheese-filled danish, a raspberry danish, and a blueberry muffin with sugar on top.
“You pick first,” he says.
“How about we share? They all look delicious.”
“Sounds good to me.” Christian takes a plastic knife and cuts the blueberry muffin in half and does the same with the danishes and the doughnut.
Picking up a piece of the muffin, I pop it into my mouth. The fluffiness of the muffin makes my mouth water. The pieces of sugar on top literally melt on my tongue.
“I’m going to have to run a few extra miles to burn these calories off,” I say as I lift the cup to my mouth, blowing on it. As I take my first sip, I savor the intense espresso flavor that hits my taste buds. The creamy vanilla flavor with a topping of velvety-rich foam, finished with a buttery caramel drizzle, these are my guilty pleasures. This is one of the many reasons why I run as often as I can. A moment on the lips, a lifetime on my hips.
“You look perfect from where I’m sitting. You don’t have to run anything off,” Christian says as he studies me.
My heart hammers in my chest. Christian seems to have this effect on me. Swallowing hard before I speak. “It’s the running that keeps my body in shape. But thank you.”
“You’ll have to let me join you on a run one day.”
“One day.” I tease.
“How was your trip?” he asks.
“Much needed. I visited with a friend and some family.”
He arches a brow. “You behaved yourself.”
“Of course, I’m too old to get into trouble.”
“Speaking of age, I know I shouldn’t ask, but I’m curious. With you being a doctor, I sort of did the calculations in my head. Four years of undergraduate, then four years of med school. But you mentioned you did your residency at CHOP in Philadelphia as well. You got me thinking. How old are you?”
“I would normally be offended if a man asked me my age. But since you are such a gentleman, I’ll answer. I’m twenty-nine.”
Christian lifts his cup to his lips, blowing before taking a mouthful.
“Why, how old did you think I was?” I inquire.
“I’ll never tell,” he replies, popping a piece of the cheese danish in his mouth. His dark eyes glimmer in the sunlight shining in through the window.
“Never tell. Really?” I narrow my eyes.
“Nope,” he laughs.
“How old are you?” I ask, taking a sip of my favorite drink again.
“A gentleman never discloses his age.”
“A gentleman would have never asked the age of the woman he is having breakfast with,” I retort.
“How old do you think I am?” he asks.
Studying his features, the rich outline of his shoulders strain against the fabric of his fitted dress shirt. Christian is tall, handsome, with a beautifully proportioned body, from what I can see. His chest is broad and muscular. I can tell that he takes care of himself. He has an air of authority and the appearance of someone who demands instant obedience. Thinking about Christian demanding my obedience makes my inner woman parts tingle. I wonder what he’s like in the bedroom. Shit, Rory, don’t let your mind wander there. Coffee. Just coffee.
His boldly handsome face smiles warmly at me. “A penny for your thoughts.”
A blush creeps up my cheeks, thinking about what he’d be like in bed. Clearing my thoughts and throat, I mutter “Twenty-five, maybe twenty-six, if I had to guess.”
“Not bad. I’m twenty-six. I’ll be twenty-seven in July.”
Just great. I’m older than him. He’s going to go running for the hills when he finds out I have a child. Wait, did I just think to myself when he finds out? That isn’t going to happen. I’ll put an end to this before it gets that far.
Silence blankets the table. I hear every sound in the café. The clatter of plates from the kitchen, people’s forks hitting their
plates. Everything seems to be amplified around me, making the silence between us deafening.
“You okay?” he asks.
My eyes meet Christian’s. They are laced with concern.
Clearing my throat, I nod. Christian watches me carefully, his forehead furrows.
I break a piece of the raspberry danish off and lift the fork to my mouth. Christian’s eyes follow my path from the plate to my lips. Opening my mouth to take the bite, his eyes narrow. The danish is delectable. I chew and swallow, lifting my cup to my mouth to wash it down.
“Good?”
“You have great taste. Everything you picked is delicious.”
“I have even better taste in the women I pick.” He raises a challenging brow and looks at me with heat in his eyes.
Not wanting this to be awkward between us, I push any insecurities I have aside.
“When is your birthday?” I ask.
“July fourth. We always have a cookout at my parents’ house. I think my sister may have it at her house this year.”
“Where does your sister live? In the City?”
He shakes his head. “They opted to live in the ‘burbs, not too far from my parents in Berkeley Heights, just over the river in Jersey. Camryn wanted the single home with a white picket fence and a backyard big enough for kids to play in, possibly install a pool.”
“Does your sister have children?” I ask, wanting to know a little more about him. I’d love to hear his thoughts on children. Does he have any? Does he want any?
“No kids yet. But if it was up to Jamie, they would have one already. They wanted to enjoy themselves for a bit before having a family.” Christian pops a piece of the muffin in his mouth. “Plus, they’re both focused on their careers at the moment. They figured there was no rush in having kids right away.”
“Do you wish your sister and her husband would have stayed in the City? What’s wrong with wanting a house?”
“Nothing’s wrong with wanting a house. She did the right thing. She didn’t see the point in buying a condo, then having to move when they decided to start a family.”
Hearing him say family, makes me think of Leah. I have a family. Not knowing where this will go with Christian, I don’t see the point in telling him about her.
We continue our light-hearted conversation while sharing breakfast and our coffee.
Looking at my phone, the clock reads ten-thirty. “Thank you for breakfast, but I have to get going. My shift starts at eleven.”
Christian looks down at his watch, then back up to me. He sits forward, looking at me intently. “Can I ask you a question? Are you going to let me get to know you? Let me spend some time with you?” He sits very still, his eyes narrow.
I swallow hard. “This is hard for me. I haven’t dated in a very long time. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try my best.”
Christian stands from his chair and walks over to me. He holds his hand out for me. Looking up into his eyes, all I see is sincerity. Taking his hand in mine, I stand.
“That’s all I’m asking for,” he says as he leans down, placing a soft kiss on my cheek.
My skin tingles under the touch of his lips. His fingertips stroke the side of my face where he placed the kiss. Goosebumps appear instantly over my skin.
I’m in trouble. Deep trouble.
Christian and I text throughout the day. The E.R. was busier than usual for a Monday morning. As I walk into the conference room, I take in the long, dark wood table that sits in the center, surrounded by other doctors and board members. The Chief of Pediatrics, Dr. Nichols, sits at the head of the table.
“Thank you for joining us, Dr. Gormley,” the chief says.
“Sorry, I’m a little late. I had to finish up with my patient.” Pulling out a chair, I sit quietly. Folders are placed in front of each person, most already have the material spread in front of them.
Dr. Nichols dims the lights and a projection screen lowers from the ceiling. “Thank you all for joining us today. I would like your attention on the screen in front of us, while we go over the upcoming fundraising for this year’s Saving Angels Gala. Our goal is to surpass last year’s efforts.”
Opening my folder, I remove the documents placed inside. I’m a little nervous because this will be my first time participating in something like this. After hearing about the gala, I approached my father and he agreed to be a sponsor, donating a large amount of money, along with a few timeshares at several of his buildings throughout the country.
“We have some new sponsors this year. They will be joining us at next month’s meeting. I would like all of you to review the material in the folders and make any suggestions on how you think we can make the gala grander than last year.”
A woman sitting close to the chief speaks. “So, we’re not doing the Bachelor Auction? she asks. “That brought in quite a lot of money last year.”
Dr. Nichols steeples his fingers under his chin. “The board gave that quite a lot of thought. We don’t want to do the same thing every year. We decided to table the auction this year and revisit it in the future. This year, we have several athletes who have made large, monetary donations already, and have agreed to come into the hospital to spend a few days with the patients.”
I love this idea. Last year, the gala raised over two-million dollars and I’m hoping that we can surpass that this year without the auction.
“Have you considered a silent auction? I’m sure most are familiar with how a silent auction works.”
A few of the members nod their heads in agreement, liking my suggestion. Dr. Nichols sits back in his chair, nodding his head. “I love the idea, Dr. Gormley. I recommend reaching out to those you think would like to contribute. I’m excited to see what we can come up with.”
“We could reach out to our contacts such as pharmaceutical companies, vendors, durable equipment suppliers, etc., and ask that they donate something significant. Athletes could donate signed memorabilia, jewelry, and paintings from a few elite artists.”
The meeting continues, and we discuss the venue, pricing of the tickets, entertainment, media coverage, and all the details needed to pull off a fantastic event. When the meeting is complete, I gather my papers, placing them back in the folder to read more thoroughly when I get home tonight.
The rest of my shift is uneventful, and I manage to get out on time. Still, it’s after midnight when I make it home. Tossing my keys on the table, I kick off my shoes. This town is my home now. For the first time since I’ve moved to New York, I think I’m beginning to like it here.
Chapter Eight
Christian
The past month has gone by in a blur. Rory’s shifts never seem to end when they are supposed to. Therefore, we can never seem to meet up for dinner. We text and talk on the phone frequently, though. There’s something about this girl. I can’t seem to get enough of her. Her laugh makes me smile, her sense of humor makes me want to spend more time with her. I catch myself smiling throughout the day just thinking about her. It’s just her damn job that keeps me from seeing her radiant smile.
Today, I have a meeting for the Saving Angels Gala at the hospital where Rory works. Once the meeting is over, I plan on stopping by the café down the street to grab a cup of her favorite caffeinated drink, so I can spend a few minutes with her, and surprise her in the process. My father and I will both be attending the meeting because we are sponsors for the event. Jamie was going to attend the meeting on our behalf, but Camryn had a work event in Nashville, so he opted to head out of town with her for a short getaway.
My father and I step out of the elevator on the eleventh floor. The smell of bleach fills my nostrils as the day matron pushes the mop along the white linoleum floor. A yellow warning sign sits to the right, where a soda bottle lays on the floor. We both step around the area, making sure not to slip. I want to see Rory, but I don’t want to end up in the E.R. with a broken leg in order to see my girl.
My girl. Where the hell did that thought come fr
om? I’ve spent a limited amount of time with Rory, but I’m becoming attached to her.
Unconsciously, my gaze searches the hallways for a glimpse of Rory as we make our way to the designated conference room. The room is filled, only a few empty seats are available near the back of the room. Seats are lined up in rows of ten, five rows deep, with a podium at the front of the room. I’m unsure if everyone attending are sponsors, if so, we’re going to be able to raise a hell of a lot of money this year. My father has been a sponsor of this event for the past five years. Jamie and I decided to become one as well. It’s a great cause and we couldn’t think of a better place to donate money.
I follow behind my father, who takes his seat in the last row. Sitting next to him at the end of the aisle, my eyes are drawn to the gorgeous woman sitting in front of me. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head. Leaning in close to her ear, I inhale the light coconut scent of her skin.
I whisper “Hello, gorgeous. Funny running into you here.”
Knowing I shouldn’t do this, I can’t help myself. Fingers crossed, Rory doesn’t slap me across my face in front of my father and all these people. That would suck. My lips feather across her exposed neck softly, before leaning back a little. Goosebumps appear on her skin and I can see her cheeks flush a beautiful shade of pink.
Rory turns her head, but not her entire body. Our eyes meet. Jade-colored eyes stare at me with a raised brow. Her pouty lips are slicked with a clear gloss. Lips I’ve wanted to taste since the moment we met.
“What are you doing here?” she whispers.
“My father and I are sponsors.” I nod toward my dad sitting next to me. The corners of my mouth turn up. “What are you doing here?”
She laughs. “I work here. My father is also a sponsor, but I signed up to be on the committee.”
My gaze drops to her mouth for a split moment, “What time do you get done today?” I ask.
“Hopefully seven, when my shift ends, but as you already know, that doesn’t always happen.”
Unspoken Fears (The Unspoken Love Series Book 4) Page 8
