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Dear Bridget, I Want You(79)

By:Penelope Ward & Vi Keeland


“Plus, he’s a doctor and all.”

I wanted to smack that man-eating smirk off her face. But I wouldn’t do that in front of her daughter. Finished with what I’d come to do, I knelt down to the little girl. I took her hand into mine and squeezed gently. “It was very nice to meet you, Olivia.”

She smiled, and I took once last opportunity to study her face for any sign of Ben. I couldn’t find any.

Standing, I pulled my bag onto my shoulder and leaned into Gina so that her sweet daughter couldn’t hear. “Keep the fuck away from Dr. Hogue, you home wrecker. You haven’t changed at all.”





It was the longest three days of my life.

The day after I met with Gina, I brought Brendan to the hospital at the end of Simon’s shift for a quick swab. I hated lying to my son, but there was no reason for the memory of his father to be soiled. In just another day and a half, I’d know the truth.

Oddly, for the last day, the object of my obsessive thinking wasn’t my cheating, dead husband. It was something his mistress had said that I hadn’t been able to shake. She’d reminded me of the struggle I had getting pregnant. I wasn’t even sure if Simon wanted kids. But it wouldn’t be fair of me to not warn him there was a distinct possibility I wouldn’t be able to give him any. It was hard enough almost ten years ago, and now I was getting older.

Simon had taken a quick shower after dinner and went to his room to get changed while I put Brendan to bed. I found him in the kitchen pouring two glasses of wine. “You read my mind,” I said.

“I figured you could use it.”

He’d slicked back his wet hair after the shower, but a long, blond piece fell into his eyes as he handed me a glass. I eyed it and brought my wine to my lips. “Brendan has an appointment with the barber next week. I’m thinking I should bring you along with him.”

“I’ll cut my hair if you don’t like it.”

“You will?”

“Absolutely.” He shrugged. “You just have to show me a boob.”

I sputtered swallowing my wine. “What?”

“You heard me. I’ll trade you a haircut for a peep show.”

“You’ll cut your hair if I…flash you a boob?”

“Deal?” He arched a brow.

I reached out my hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Dr. Hogue. Maybe Brendan will stop complaining if you get yours cut, too.”

Simon took my hand in his, and then used it to yank me flush against him. He whispered against my lips, “I had an appointment set for this Saturday morning, but now I’m gonna get some tit, too.”

“You tricked me!” I laughed.

“Sweetheart, I’d shave my damn head just to get this smile for one minute.” He traced my bottom lip with his pointer finger. “I’ve missed it.”

I took a deep breath. “I know. I’m sorry. Why don’t we go sit in the living room? There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“If that’s code for you’re gonna unbutton your shirt and let me lick a nipple, I’m in.”

I shoved him playfully before taking his hand and leading him to the couch.

Simon figured out that something was up when I let out a long breath and rubbed my palms.

He placed his hand on my knee. “Are you nervous about the test?”

“I am, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

His expression turned serious. “Alright.”

It took almost a full minute for me to gather my thoughts.

“I feel a little embarrassed to be bringing this up to you now, and I’m certainly not looking to freak you out…”

“The only thing freaking me out is not knowing what in the bloody hell is bothering you if it’s not the DNA test. Whatever it is, say it.”

“I’m going on thirty-five…”

“Total MILF, yes. I’m aware of your age.”

“What I mean by that is…I’m really getting to a point where it’s going to be more and more difficult to conceive with each year that passes. I’m worried that I won’t be able to give you a child of your own, if that’s something you want.”

“This is what’s been on your mind?”

“Yes. Well, it’s something I should’ve given more thought to earlier, but it wasn’t until my conversation with Gina that I was really reminded of the struggle Ben and I had trying to have a baby. I have polycystic ovary syndrome. That means that my hormones are out of balance. Add in the factor of my age now compared to then and—”

“Whoa!” He interrupted. “This is all too much for you to be worrying about right now on top of everything else.”