“The patient’s a mess,” he said, rubbing a hand over his chin. “But the surgery went well. We got a clean sample. Now we wait.”
“Do you think it’s…” I could tell by the look on his face that I didn’t need to continue my sentence. The tests would only confirm what he and the rest of the surgical team already knew. The twenty-four-year-old science teacher had breast cancer, and her entire life was about to change.
It could all change so fast. That’s what was so terrifying about our job. We tried so hard to protect, to save, to win, but it didn’t always happen. And even when you’d won, even when we saved you, once you’d been on that table, you were never truly the same. Whether cancer or cesarean, the scalpel’s scar tended to run deeper than the physical ones we left. As surgeons, the threat of our own mortality was constantly thrust in our faces. It could all be over just like that; everything could end.
I swallowed, no longer hungry, and dusted off my hands. “Are you coming over tonight?”
“I can’t,” he said simply, chewing on the last bit of crust from his pizza.
“Why not?”
He stood, dusting his hands off on his scrubs. “Today’s Naomi’s birthday. I promised her I’d cook dinner and watch Becca so she can relax.”
I pursed my lips. “When am I going to get to meet this mysterious sister of yours? You know I’m great with kids.” Or, at least I would be, if I had a chance to be around them.
“Soon,” he promised, tapping the table with his knuckles, though his eyes were distant. That was how he was with this subject, one that had been brought up so often over the years. Never definitive. “You know Naomi is still fragile, and I just, I don’t want to risk her health right now. Her doctors say she needs stability.”
“I know,” I said. I didn’t want to push, even though the excuse fell flat. I believed Naomi must not like me, though I didn’t know why. For twelve years, I’d dated her brother and never once had we been allowed to meet. Wasn’t she curious about me? How much longer could he put it off? “I just…I want to help. I feel so useless here when you’re doing so much.”
“You help me,” he confirmed. “You do, Clara. Just by being here…by being you.” He squeezed my hand briefly, then turned away. “See you later.”
“Bye,” I called after him, tossing my napkin into the container on top of my lunch. I loved Luke, I really did, and I knew his heart was in the right place. There were few men I knew who would allow their sister to move in with them, let alone take care of both her and her daughter on top of maintaining a demanding full-time job. I didn’t want to push. I knew he was balancing so much, and the last thing I wanted to do was ask for anything more.
I had my career too, something that meant so much to me. I could easily push aside any other worries. He loved me, I knew, and at least for now, we’d be together in whatever way he could make it work.
As long as I had him, in whatever capacity he could give himself to me, I wouldn’t complain. We made that silent agreement years ago.
Still, I planned to meet Naomi one way or another. I was going to show Luke that everything would be okay between us. I’d make sure Naomi loved me. He’d see.
Chapter Nine
Alaina
Someone was standing behind me. I sensed it in an instant, pulling the headphones from my ears and spinning around with my paintbrush wielded like a sword. Lucas looked back at me, obviously amused.
“Easy there, tiger,” he teased, his hands thrown up in surrender. I groaned, rolling my eyes and lowering my brush.
“You scared me!”
He chuckled under his breath. “You didn’t answer when I knocked. I assumed you were working and used the key.”
I took off my apron and hung it on the side of the canvas stand, placing my paintbrush down. When I turned back to him, he was eyeing my painting as he pulled me into his arms for a quick kiss.
“What is this one about?”
“It’s not about anything,” I said with a sigh. “It’s just…a feeling. My feelings.”
He leaned a cheek onto the top of my head, squeezing me tighter. “And what are your feelings?”
I bit my tongue, not yet ready to talk about them. “Come with me. I finished up the one I’ve been working on this week, and I’ve been dying to show you.”
He didn’t seem fazed by the sudden change of subject, and as I tugged his hand down the long hallway toward my bedroom, he followed. Lucas had always been supportive of my art, even when he didn’t completely understand it. He attended every one of my art shows and had even purchased a few pieces for himself. One day, when we had our own place together, he swore it would be filled with my art.
I pushed open the bedroom door and flipped on the light, tugging the white cover off the canvas in the corner. We stepped around the paintings that were wrapped and ready to be sent off to a buyer, and I watched Lucas’ face change from amused to amazed.
He stepped past me, his fingers lifting to the canvas, though he dared not touch it. He sucked in a sharp breath. “Wow…this is…wow.”
He stared at the charcoal and watercolor portrait of himself, taking in the lines I’d been meticulous about. Every inch of his body, as it was burned into my mind, was now on the canvas and preserved forever.
“Do you like it?” I asked when he’d been silent too long.
He nodded. “It’s…me.”
I laughed, shocked by his obvious words. “Yes, it’s you.”
He glanced over his shoulder at me, an awe-filled expression on his face. “When did you do this?”
“I’ve been working on it for a few weeks now, just here and there. I wanted it to be perfect.”
“Are you…selling it?” He suddenly looked uncomfortable.
“Not a chance. This one’s all mine.”
He warmed instantly. “And when do I get one of you?” His fingers outstretched for my waist, and he pulled me toward him. I grinned.
“So you do like it, then?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful, Lukey,” I said, nudging my nose against his as he lowered his lips to mine. I closed my eyes, sinking into his kiss as his arms wrapped around me, his leg bumping mine as he led me backward three steps and onto the bed.
He sank down on top of me, careful that his weight wasn’t on my belly as his hand crawled up to my breast. His other hand cupped my jaw, pulling me into his kiss even more. He was such a good kisser, so much better than the many guys I dated in college. It was one of my favorite things about dating a much older man. On top of his maturity, he was incredibly experienced, and he put all that experience to good use with me.
He pulled away, staring down at me for a brief second. “You remembered every inch of me. Down to the freckles on my hip.”
“You’re burned into my memory, Lucas Martin. Deal with it.” I beamed. “Artist brain is a very real thing.”
“I guess I have some memorizing of my own to do.” His eyebrows bounced up with desire as he pulled my dress over my head, his heated gaze raking over my body.