The Proposal(9)

“No fair,” she replied, with a grin.

Pesh winked at her. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have tempted you with such an elicit substance.”

Emma’s cheeks once again felt inflamed, so she took a swig of water to try and cool off. “How’s Patrick?”

“Better. As soon as you finish eating, you can go see him.”

“Really?” she asked, through a mouthful of cracker.

Pesh nodded. “He’s been asking for you.”

“He has?” She then crammed in another cracker as she stood up. Once she swallowed, she said, “Okay, let’s go see him.”

With an amused shake of his head, Pesh said, “I should have known not to say anything until you had finished eating.”

“How about I promise to finish the crackers while I’m with Patrick?”

“I guess that sounds fair.”

Emma grinned as they started out the door. “I can’t thank you enough for the food and for looking out for me…and for Noah.”

Pesh stuffed his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. “Ah, so our strong little guy is going to be named Noah?”

“Yes, after my late father.”

He smiled. “He’s very lucky to have you for a mother.”

Emma couldn’t help the heat that rose in her cheeks at his compliment. “Thank you. I’m going to try to be the best I can for him. I had a great role model in my late mother.”

“You’ve lost both your parents?”

She nodded.

He shook his head. “So much sorrow.” His hand touched her shoulder. “But just from the look on your face and the love in your eyes, I can tell how much joy this child is bringing you.”

“Yes, he is,” she murmured. She was almost overcome by the sincerity in his expression and voice.

“Dr. Nadeen to examining room five. Dr. Nadeen to examining room five,” came a voice over the loudspeaker.

“I guess you’d better go,” Emma said.

He nodded. “No rest for the weary around here.”

She smiled. “It was very nice meeting you.”

Pesh took her hand in both of his, tenderly stroking her flesh with his fingertips. “The pleasure was all mine.”

As hard as she tried, she couldn’t ignore the longing shiver that ran through her body at the touch of his hand on her skin. “Good-bye,” she mumbled before stumbling into Patrick’s room.





CHAPTER THREE



Aidan reached out his hand to flag down a passing nurse, but the sound of singing stopped him cold in the middle of the hallway. Strains of Danny Boy floated back to him—his father’s favorite song. Only second generation Irish, Patrick had grown up with the songs of the old homeland like Danny Boy and The Fields of Athenry. Aidan couldn’t remember a time in his life when his father wasn’t humming one of them.

But it wasn’t his father singing. The sweet harmony of this voice cut through to Aidan’s soul, causing him to flinch.

It was Emma.

Her voice drew him nearer and nearer like a siren leading a man to his doom. His steps slowed to a crawl as his eyes honed in on the door down the hall from him. The last time he heard her sing was at her grandparent’s Barn Dance. The night before he realized he was truly and completely in love with her—before he had broken her heart.

Pausing in front of the doorway, Aidan tried to still the rapid acceleration of his heartbeat. His father reclined back with Emma perched beside him on the hospital bed. She held his hand that was tethered to an IV pole in both of hers. Although Patrick had oxygen tubes stuck in his nose, he appeared to be feeling fine and was enjoying his impromptu concert.

When the last notes of the song echoed off the drab walls, Patrick applauded. “Beautiful, Emma! Absolutely beautiful!”

Even though she ducked her head, Aidan could see her usual flush of embarrassment that tinged her cheeks. “You’re welcome.”

“Without a doubt, you have the voice of an angel, sweetheart.”

Emma leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, and that includes singing a song with impossibly high notes in the middle of the ER.” One hand flew to her abdomen while a smile spread across her face. “Noah must be a true Irish Fitzgerald. He’s going crazy dancing right now.” Taking Patrick’s hand, she brought it to her belly. “See?”

Aidan sucked in a breath and staggered back. What the hell? His son had a name, and he hadn’t even had a part in it. How could she do something as monumental as naming his child without asking him? He shouldn’t have cared that Emma had bestowed her late father’s name on their son, but he did. Anger pulsed through him. Stalking through the doorway, he blurted, “Excuse me? Noah?”