The Doctor Who Has No Chance - Victoria Quinn Page 0,100
of life is…your parents love you in a very special way that’s never replicated or replaced. No one will ever love you more than that, and when they’re gone…” Even after all this time, he still grieved the loss of his father, who had been dead long before I was even born, before Derek was born. But time didn’t heal all wounds, apparently. “You’ll never be loved that way ever again. Unless…you find the perfect person to fill that void in your chest, to supplement that unconditional love that you now have to live without. That’s what it means to find a lifetime partner, a spouse, and it’s a very big deal to get it right. I want that for Daisy. I want her to have a man who’s gonna be committed the way I am to your mother, who’s going to be protective the way Derek is over Emerson, to love her the way you love Sicily. I understand that love is rare, so I worry that she won’t find it…that there are just not enough good men out there.”
“Dad, will there ever really be anyone good enough for Daisy?”
His eyes glazed over as he stared straight ahead, probably experiencing a montage of memories of her greatest achievements, her lovable quirks, of all the ways that Daisy was perfect. A slight smile moved on to his lips, and he dropped his gaze. “No.”
Ryan stayed knocked out the entire walk home, so when we made it into the apartment, I decided to try something new.
Sicily saw me head for his bedroom. “What are you doing?” she asked quietly.
I stepped inside and gently placed him in the crib.
Riley came up next to me, smelling him through the bars.
I slowly pulled away and went still, hoping he wouldn’t wake up because he realized he wasn’t in the big king-size bed between Sicily and me.
But he didn’t.
Yes.
Riley curled up in a ball and lay on the floor in front of the crib, choosing to stay by his side instead of sleeping in our warm and comfy bed.
I gave her a gentle pat on the head before I flipped on the baby monitor and walked out, leaving the door cracked.
Sicily stood outside, her eyebrows raised. “He’s not crying…”
“He’s knocked out cold.” My arm moved around her waist, and I walked her into our bedroom, the first time we’d really had a few seconds to be alone since I’d asked her to marry me and we’d hooked up at lunchtime. But now, it was just us, in our home, the silence the only sound in the world.
My dad described love in a way I’d never heard before, and it was the most beautiful and accurate description I’d ever heard. Family was everything, but it also didn’t last forever. If you didn’t make it grow, it would disappear. And you couldn’t make it grow with just anyone. You couldn’t continue the line until you found a family to do that with. Your spouse was a replacement for the love you would eventually lose someday.
That was Sicily.
When I married Catherine, I didn’t think we’d ever get divorced, yet, we did. But with Sicily, it was different. There was nothing that would break us apart. This was for life, for eternity, until our bodies were buried side by side in the graveyard that held my other family members.
I got it right this time.
I found my family.
Her pretty eyes looked into mine as she waited for me to grab her, to kiss her, to throw her on our bed so we could consummate this marriage before we were even married, treating this like our wedding night since it did feel like it. Because the wedding was a celebration, but the moment she accepted was the instant when our lives together began. It was the moment our souls unified, when we pledged forever to each other. “What?”
I wanted to tell her everything my father had said to me, the epiphany I’d had about our relationship, the undying belief that we would be together forever. But I would save it for a better time, when she was dressed in white and I got to watch her glide toward me like God made her just for me. “Nothing…”
Also by Victoria Quinn
The director of my clinic is retiring and the job is up for grabs.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want the job for myself, but I’d be happy if any of my colleagues got the promotion.
But none of them get it.
Neither do I.
It’s an outside hire.
Atlas Beaumont.
Super genius, but I think he’s a super prick.
Worst part of all? My father is the one who wrote his letter of recommendation, the one that impressed my boss so much that he hired him on the spot.