cutting it off from view. Maybe someday she would be that pregnant lady. When she found someone who would love her as she was.
Even if she wasn’t a firecracker in the bedroom.
Brad’s words about her being desirable had given her a jolt of hope that maybe all was not lost. If she could find someone patient enough to show her the way, she’d make sure she held onto that person and never let go.
Or, if for ever was too much to ask, maybe he could at least teach her what love—real love—was.
Something smelled delicious.
Brad closed the front door to the apartment, trying to erase the image of a desperate father on his knees in the hospital chapel, begging God to spare his wife. God had. But the couple had lost their unborn baby—and with it the possibility of ever having another one. When the man’s red eyes had met his in the doorway, he’d known without Brad saying a word.
“My wife?”
“She’s in Recovery. She sent me to find you. I promised I would.”
Brad had taken that promise to heart and had gone searching for the man in person. He’d known instinctively where he’d find him.
He’d lost patients before, wasn’t sure why this was so different. Maybe because of the way that husband had looked at his wife, as if no love had ever been greater. He hadn’t left her side until she’d been wheeled away for the surgery that would change both their lives.
“Chloe?” he called, shaking free of the memories.
The scent of cooking grew stronger as he tossed his keys and wallet onto the table in the foyer of the apartment and headed for the kitchen. Relief and irritation warred for first place. Relief that she was here, and irritation that she hadn’t waited for him before hopping on the subway and heading home. He’d gone looking for her once his patient had been stabilized, and had been told she’d already left for the day.
Without saying a word to him.
He needed to get over this nagging worry that Travis would come looking for her. She was an adult, she didn’t need him to be a babysitter. Besides, he’d already seen what could happen between them if he got too close. Chloe needed someone who would handle her with kid gloves. That someone was not him. Maybe he’d make a visit to Katrina’s to get whatever was going on with him out of his system.
The idea filled him with distaste, which in turn made his frustration grow.
“Chloe.” He allowed his irritation to come to the fore as he called her again.
She popped her head around the arched doorway that led to the kitchen. “In here. I’m making us something to eat.”
“Why?” The last thing he wanted was to have her cooking for him. When it was time for her to go, he wanted it to be a quick, clean break.
Her brow puckered. “I know you’ve had a hard day. I thought it was the least I could do, especially as you’re letting me stay in your apartment. Consider it part of my rent.”
“I already told you, you’re helping me out of a jam at the hospital.”
“I know.” She hesitated, looking into his eyes. “I heard about your patient, Brad. I’m really sorry. Are you okay?”
His jaws clamped shut as he fought to stem the unwanted tide of emotion that rose inside him. He fought hard to give his unborn patients the best possible start in life. Something he hadn’t had when he’d been a kid. And when things went wrong with any of his cases, it ate away at him.
He could rail at fate as much as he liked. But just like with the padlocks on the doors of his childhood home, he’d learned that begging and screaming didn’t change a thing. Those locks had taught him at least one important survival skill, however. He was an expert at bolting the doors of his heart and keeping any unwanted emotion locked out of sight, and it got the job done. He’d learned to make choices based on what he knew about the world. Just like Chloe would have to do.
She disappeared again. He stood there wondering if he should just go to his room and try to shut out the day. It’s what he wanted to do, but knew he’d end up feeling like a jerk if he did, because Chloe had gone to all the trouble of fixing him something to eat.
So he followed her.
“I’m making shrimp garlic alfredo.