in time, you could choose not to leave us in the lurch. Maybe you could choose to show a little more maturity and responsibility to the project that everyone—including you—says is the fulfillment of your life’s dream.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a hiss. “I’d hate to be the love of your life, Deacon, if that’s how you treat what’s sacred to you. If this is how you act about the important stuff, then the expendable things really don’t stand a chance. Do we?”
Her eyes were flashing, and her face had taken on a rosy glow. It wasn’t that much unlike how she looked after we’d had sex. I was tempted to solve all of our problems by sweeping the food and plates off this kitchen table and bending her over it, taking her here and now to clear up any doubt about how expendable I thought she was. My feet actually moved in her direction before I caught myself.
“I think we’re talking about a whole bunch of different amends I need to make.” I inhaled deeply, trying to force my body to calm the hell down. “I understand that I have a lot to make up to you, Mira and everyone else when it comes to the hospital. I know I need to prove to my patients that I’m not going to disappear again. But I wasn’t talking about St. Agnes just now. I was talking about how I hurt you, Emma. And how fucking bad I feel about that.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m not having that conversation. Not here. Not now.”
“All right. Fine.” While I wanted more than anything just to clear this up and make things right again so that we could move on with the rest of our lives, I could see her point. We were at my grandparents’ house. There was a yard full of people just beyond the doors. She was still grappling with her surprise over my return, and I had to understand that. I still harbored a fond hope that our discussion—okay, let’s be real, my groveling—would lead to reconciliation and—God, I hoped—some hot and dirty make-up sex. That was much less likely to happen here in Gram’s kitchen in the midst of a Christmas party.
“Can we talk later then? Maybe . . . tonight?” I knew I needed sleep, but I’d enjoy that much more if Emma was in my bed with me. “Or if that doesn’t work, how about lunch tomorrow?”
Her eyebrows drew together as she frowned. I could tell she was grappling with what to say, but just as she opened her mouth, someone stepped into the kitchen through the doorway behind her.
“Babe? Everything okay?” Noah Spencer laid his two massive hands on Emma’s shoulders, and I didn’t miss the intimate, affectionate way he squeezed her or the brush of his thumbs over her collarbones. For a long moment, he didn’t seem to recognize me, and then realization dawned. “Oh. Shit. Deacon? What the hell, man? When did you get back in town?”
I couldn’t separate my emotions from the suspicions now spearing into my consciousness, making my head spin and rocking me back on my heels. Noah, the man with whom I’d accused Emma of improper actions, the devoted husband of one of my favorite patients, a guy I’d respected and liked, was standing behind my girl, touching her with the sort of possessiveness that I knew meant he considered her his. And he’d called her babe, which further told me about the nature of their relationship.
But the dude was either a consummate actor or he had no idea how his easy intimacy with Emma was affecting me, because he leaned forward and extended his arm across the table to me. I acted out of instinct and a lifetime of ingrained manners, shaking his hand.
“Noah. Ah, good to see you, too.” I stepped back and tried to remember what he’d asked. “I just landed this morning and drove right here. I totally forgot about the party.” My mind was working, though, even as I spoke. If Emma was here because she was friends with Gram and Pop, then Noah had to be here because he was her date. Her plus one. Her boyfriend.
Fucking hell.
“Yeah, this is some bash, huh?” Noah grinned, still oblivious to the way I was gnashing my teeth. “Anna and Jimmy started talking about it back in September, and I didn’t have any idea how many people showed up. Feels like the whole