My Perfect Fiance (Perfect Guy Book 2) Read online

  “You know, Dr. Walsh,” she says, “my granddaughter Melissa is in nursing school. And let me tell you, she’s a real beauty. She looks like a young Audrey Hepburn.”

  “She sounds very nice,” I say as I scribble on her discharge paperwork.

  “She is!” Mrs. Jacobson beams at me. “Would you like me to give you her phone number?”

  “Actually, I’m engaged.”

  “Oh.” Her face falls. She couldn’t have looked this disappointed if I told her she had a huge subdural hematoma. “Well, of course you are. Congratulations, Doctor. I’m sure she’s lovely. Or is it he? I don’t judge.”

  “It’s she.” I grin at her. “And yes, she’s lovely.”

  As cute as Mrs. Jacobson is, I’m not nearly as charmed when I leave the exam room, only to find Kaitlin the Nurse waiting for me outside, a cup of steaming hot coffee clutched in her hand. She thrusts the cup in my direction, practically spilling hot coffee all over my scrub top.

  “I got this for you,” she says eagerly. “How do you take it? Cream? Sugar?”

  “Uh, black.”

  She laughs as she bats her eyes at me. Christ, she’s got on a ton of mascara. “I should have known.”

  “It’s a little late for coffee though.” I glance down at my watch. “It’s nine o’clock at night and my shift ends in an hour.”

  And I’m engaged.

  “Oh.” She looks like she’s about to cry. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Walsh.”

  Usually I tell the nurses to call me Noah, but I sense that would give the wrong message. Claire strolls by at that moment, the way she fills out her scrubs reminding me vaguely of why I broke my rule about not hooking up with coworkers. Also, I don’t appreciate the way she smirks at me when she sees Kaitlin hovering over me.

  “Hey, Doc,” Claire says. “I need your expertise over here.”

  I slip past Kaitlin gratefully to where Claire is standing by a computer. As I get within earshot of her, she murmurs, “You’re welcome.”

  I shake my head. “She’s so goddamn persistent. I told her I’m engaged, you know.”

  “Right. But so was Dr. Lane. And you saw what happened last year.”

  I roll my eyes. Some people have no integrity and Alex Lane is one of them.

  Claire arches an eyebrow. “You want me to help you get rid of her, Doc?”

  “That would be great, thanks.”

  “Consider it done.”

  I glance down at my watch again. I very nearly decided not to use my prosthetics today, but stuck them on at the last minute. The pain in my right limb is not enough to outweigh the annoyance of being in the chair all shift. I do it when I have to, but I’d rather be able to walk. But I’ve been babying the leg—sitting whenever I can. It makes me a better doctor because the first thing I do when I walk into a patient’s room is sit down with them.

  Within the next fifteen minutes though, my leg is throbbing again. It feels swollen to twice its size, but that couldn’t be true because then it wouldn’t fit in the socket. I’m visibly limping though. Whenever I get half a chance, I collapse into a chair. The pain is definitely getting worse. I can’t pretend anymore.

  Thank God I’m at the end of my shift.

  “Are you all right, Dr. Walsh?”

  Kaitlin. Standing over me while I take five at a computer. Christ, I thought Claire got rid of her for me.

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  “You’re limping,” she says. Her blond eyebrows knit together. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  Well, at least this proves I walk pretty well when I’m not in pain. I always wonder exactly how noticeable my limp is. But if Kaitlin didn’t notice it till now, I’m doing good.

  “There you are, Kaitlin!” Claire strides over to us, a clipboard in her hand. “I was looking for you!”

  A pink circle appears on each of Kaitlin’s cheeks. “I was just asking if Dr. Walsh was feeling all right. I think he may have hurt his leg.”

  Claire looks me over, an amused look on her face. “Is that so, Dr. Walsh? Having some knee pain?”

  For the first time since I got out of Mrs. Jacobson’s room, I manage a smile. “Just a bit.”

  “Well, then.” Claire flicks her gaze to Kaitlin. “Kaitlin, since you’re trying to hone your diagnostic skills, why don’t you take a look at the doctor’s knee and tell us what you think is wrong.”

  A look of joy mixed with excitement and fear fills Kaitlin’s smooth face. “Would that be okay, Dr. Walsh?”

  It’s hard not to laugh. Claire is evil. “Yeah, go for it. I’d love to hear your diagnosis.”

  “I have been reading up on the knee,” Kaitlin says proudly. “I hope you don’t have a meniscal tear, Dr. Walsh.”

  I doubt it. You need a knee to have a meniscal tear.

  I push my rolly chair away from the computer so Kaitlin can have access to my right knee. Claire is looking on, an amused grin on her lips—I’m sure she doesn’t want to miss this. Kaitlin rubs her hands together in preparation, although she doesn’t put on gloves. Not that I would have expected her to.

  “Can you roll up your pants leg for me, Dr. Walsh?” Kaitlin asks.

  “Absolutely.”

  And then I do it. I pull up the leg of my scrubs, and a crease forms between Kaitlin’s eyes as she catches sight of the metal pylon that makes up my shin. Then I pull it over my knee, to reveal my knee joint. I use something called a C-leg, which is a computerized knee joint. My prosthetist can make adjustments to it on the computer in their office.

  In any case, it clearly isn’t what Kaitlin expected. I guess nobody clued her in about me. It’s beyond hilarious how her mouth drops open and all the color drains from her face.

  “Oh!” she gasps. “You… this is… I mean, I didn’t know…”

  I raise my eyebrows at her. “So what do you think? Differential diagnosis?”

  Kaitlin looks between me and Claire like a deer in headlights.

  “Kaitlin,” Claire sighs as she clucks her tongue. “Don’t you know that when you’re doing a knee exam, you always have to compare to the asymptomatic side? Dr. Walsh, could you roll up your other pants leg?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  I pull up my pants leg on the left to reveal an identical prosthesis. Kaitlin looks like she’s about to faint.

  “Car accident,” I say, taking pity on her. “Long time ago.” I put my right hand at the mid-thigh level. “This is where I end.”

  I can almost hear Kaitlin swallow. “Oh.”

  “Also, he’s engaged,” Claire adds.

  Kaitlin’s face is bright pink. She sputters out a few unintelligible words before she races off to God knows where. The second she’s gone, Claire and I burst out laughing. Okay, that was mean. But I needed to get Kaitlin off my back. I can’t work like this. And the purpose of being here is to treat patients, not to flirt with nurses. Despite what some of my colleagues seem to think.

  I don’t end up seeing Kaitlin for the rest of the shift. It goes quickly—I spend a good chunk of time on a guy with chest pain whose EKG shows huge ST elevations that could be right out of a textbook. I get him safely in the hands of cardiology, finish up my documentation, then breathe a sigh of relief while I walk out the door. I still haven’t made an appointment to see my own doctor, but I really need to. Soon.

  But right now, all I can think about is going home. I’ve got tomorrow off, and I’m not touching these prosthetics again for at least twenty-four hours. I can’t wait.

  Except as soon as I get out of the ER, I get a surprise. There’s someone waiting for me.

  “Hey, Noah.” Theo Duncan is staring at me, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “We need to talk.”

  Shit.

  Chapter 17: Bailey

  “All right, Lily,” I say. “Time to shut off the television and do your reading for the night.”

  Lily flops around on the sofa, a pout on her lips. “But I want to read with Noah.”

  “But Noah is at the hospital. H
e isn’t going to be home till late.”

  “So I’ll wait.”

  “He won’t be home till past your bedtime.”

  Lily rolls her eyes. “Why does he have to work so late?”

  I grit my teeth. Lily has been obediently reading with Noah every single night. I’ve been listening in to their sessions and she’s doing great. She’s improved so much in a short amount of time. The chips and the possibility of getting an ant farm motivate her, but it’s also Noah himself. He is so patient with her. No matter what, he never loses his cool. I don’t know what I’d been doing wrong all this time, but it’s clear he’s doing everything right.

  “Can’t you read with me just tonight?” I plead with her.

  “No.”

  “Lily!”

  She folds her arms across her chest. “I want Noah!”

  So do I.

  I flop down next to her on the sofa. It’s only an hour before bedtime and I don’t want to set off a huge tantrum. It won’t kill her to miss one night of reading.

  “All right,” I say. “You can skip tonight, as long as you read for two sessions with Noah tomorrow.”

  “Okay!” she says happily. She picks up a lock of her hair and starts sucking on it. “Mommy?”

  “Lily, don’t eat your hair, please.”

  “But it tastes so good!”

  “Lily…”

  She pulls the damp hair from her lips. She does occasionally listen to me without an argument. “Mommy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Will you read Baby Bear to me?”

  Her question takes me by surprise. The book she calls “Baby Bear” is a picture book about a little bear who is goes to a giant amusement park. When Lily was three or four years old, it was her favorite book. I tried to read her other books, but she insisted on that one every single night. I got so sick of it that at one point, I wanted to toss it out the window so I’d never have to read it again. I was never sure what she liked about it, although it always made me feel guilty I didn’t have the money to take her to a real amusement park.

  We haven’t read that book in at least a year. I wonder what made her think of it.

  “Okay,” I agree. “Let me go find it.”

  It takes a minute of searching through her bookcase, but I finally find it stuffed in the middle shelf, next to an issue of Highlights. I come out and Lily is curled up on the couch, patiently waiting for me. When I sit down beside her, she cuddles up to me and rests her head on my shoulder.

  “Baby Bear Goes to the Fun Park,” I begin. “Once upon a time…”

  “Mommy?”

  I pause, mid-sentence. “Yes?”

  “When you and Noah get married, will he be my dad?”

  Uh oh. Tricky questions from a seven-year-old. I should have been prepared for this one, but somehow it takes me by surprise. “Well, sort of. He’ll be your stepdad. That’s almost the same thing.”

  “Stepdads are mean.”

  “No, they aren’t.”

  “Cinderella’s stepmother was mean.”

  “Well, that’s stepmothers.” I’m really reaching now. “Anyway, you already know Noah, and you know he’s not mean. You know he loves you.”

  “But why can’t he be my regular dad?”

  “Because Daddy is your dad,” I explain patiently. “And you can only have one dad. You can’t have two.”

  “Oliver does.”

  “Right, but that’s…” I had a talk with Lily about Oliver’s two dads earlier in the year, but I feel like she still doesn’t get it. “That’s a different situation.”

  Lily puts her hair back in her mouth, and I cringe. Why does she keep doing that? It can’t actually taste good! I read an article about people who get these huge hairballs in their stomachs that need to be surgically removed. But I’m assuming that’s pretty rare. Right?

  Maybe I should ask Noah.

  Lily chews thoughtfully on her hair. “Do you think you and Noah will have a baby together?”

  “Uh… probably, yes. Eventually.” At least one baby. Hopefully not three. Definitely not more than three, although part of me thinks Noah would be thrilled if I said, “Hey, let’s have eight kids!”

  “Will Noah be the dad of the baby?”

  “Yes, he will.”

  She screws up her little face. “But that’s not fair! Then he’ll like the baby better than me!”

  And then she starts to cry.

  “Oh, Lily…” I scooch over across the sofa and put my arm around her skinny shoulders. “We’ll love you equally to the baby. I promise. A baby will just make our family bigger, with more love.”

  Her lower lip trembles.

  “Also, we’re not going to have a baby for a long time. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

  Lily reluctantly accepts this answer. She snuggles up against me, and I read the book to her five times as we cuddle together. She seems so confident about everything—it never occurs to me that she might worry about being loved less than a baby that doesn’t even exist yet. Anyway, Lily won the lottery for stepdads. Too bad she lost bigtime for dads.

  Chapter 18: Noah

  I eye Theo warily. As usual, he’s dressed like an aging rocker, with his white button-up shirt that has one more button undone than it ought to, paired with ripped blue jeans. His hair is long and scraggly. There’s an angry red scar on his forehead from where he got stitched up in the ER the other night. The best part is the leather boots.

  Leather boots. On a forty-year-old man. What is he thinking?

  I don’t know what he wants to talk about, but I’m not interested. At least he doesn’t look like he wants to fight me. I took him down once, but I’m really wiped now. He might be able to get the better of me now.

  But probably not. This guy’s never even seen the inside of a gym.

  “Whatever you have to say,” I say wearily, “talk to Bailey.”

  “I can’t.” Theo wrings his fists together. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Well, I’m busy.”

  “It’ll be five minutes.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Please, Noah.” His voice trembles. “It’s important. It’s about Lily.”

  I sigh. “What about Lily?”

  He looks around us, at the dimly lit Manhattan street. “Could we go somewhere to talk?”

  This doesn’t sound like it’s going to be quick. But there’s nothing threatening in his tone, and he’s piqued my curiosity. Maybe he’s decided he can’t be there for Lily anymore, and he’s open to the idea of letting me adopt her. “Okay.”

  “There’s a bar three blocks down.”

  Three blocks. My right leg throbs. Too far. “There’s a diner across the street.”

  “But wouldn’t a bar be—”

  “Take it or leave it.”

  His cheeks turn pink for a moment, but the color quickly fades. “Okay, fine.”

  I’m trying my best not to limp too badly as we cross the street to get to the diner. It’s stupid, but I don’t want Theo to see it. I don’t want to look weak in front of him. I don’t want him to think he has any shot of getting Bailey back.

  When we get to the diner, I just get some water and Theo orders a coffee, even though he’s clearly itching for a beer. Another good reason to avoid the bar. I want him to be sober.

  As the waitress goes off to get the coffee, I whip out my cell phone to send a text.

  “Who are you texting?” Theo asks. “Bailey?”

  “I’m letting her know I’ll be a little late.”

  He snorts. “Christ, she’s really got you whipped.”

  “It’s called considerate.”

  “Is that what you tell yourself?”

  I send off the text and shove my phone back in my pocket. “What’s this about, Duncan? You told me this involves Lily. You come here to criticize me and waste my time or you got something important to say?”

  He blinks a few times in surprise. His gaze drops down at the table, at his slender fingers
. He has the fingers of a musician—something I’d imagine Bailey liked about him. “You were right.”

  I’m stunned. That’s the last thing I expected him to say. “Right about what?”

  “About me.” He plays with his napkin. “That I’m a loser. That Lily won’t respect me if I don’t clean myself up.”

  Wow. “Well, I’m glad you listened.”

  He takes a deep breath. “I lost my job.”

  I frown at him. “You…”

  “That night I showed up in the ER.” He touches the scar on his forehead. “You were right. I was drinking and I got into a fight. My boss canned me.” He tears a slit in the napkin he’s been playing with. “It was so stupid. This guy was making fun of me. Saying I was a loser because I was a forty-year-old bartender. I’m not even forty. I’m only thirty-eight.”

  Theo looks older than forty. That’s the result of years of smoking and drinking and drugs. If I saw him in the ER and didn’t know, I would have guessed forty-five. But I’m not going to kick the guy when he’s down.

  “So now I don’t even know how I’m going to pay my rent,” he says, “much less give Bailey her check.”

  My cheeks burn. So that’s what this is about. He doesn’t want to pay Bailey child support anymore. Or alimony.

  “You know what,” I say. “You can keep your goddamn money. I’ll support Bailey and Lily. Bailey and I are getting married really soon anyway.”

  His eyes fly open. “Really soon?”

  I shrug. “It isn’t any of your business, actually.”

  “Look,” he says quickly, “that wasn’t what I meant. I didn’t come here to talk to you about money. I wanted to talk to you because… I need help.”

  “From me?”

  “Yeah, I…” He heaves a deep breath. “I don’t have a job. Nothing. And my employer called all the local bars and they’ve blackballed me. So I was hoping…”

  I stare at him. “Hoping what?”

  “Maybe you could get me a job at the hospital?”

  My mouth falls open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Please, Noah.” His voice cracks. “I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. I have no money in the bank, and I’m behind a month on my rent. I want to have a decent job so Lily isn’t ashamed of me. I mean, what’ll she think if her dad is out on the street?”