Ultimatum(4)

“Good evening, Kayla,” the nightshift nurse said, “Eve’s been asking for you.”

Guilt clawed at my gut. How could I expect my baby to understand? “Thanks, Mel.” I headed to Eve’s room, and her tiny face lit up the instant she saw me. Every day she grew paler, smaller—the hospital bed nearly swallowed her whole—but her eyes still sparkled with innocence.

“Hi, baby.”

“Mama! Look what I color?” Eve proudly displayed her scribbled doodle.

“You drew this? You’re so talented.” I pulled her into a tight hug and held on a little longer than I normally would. The thought of being away for two days broke my heart. God, I was going to miss her. I blinked back tears and tucked her into bed. She jabbered on for a few minutes, words only a mother could detect without asking her to repeat them a dozen times.

“Eve,” I began gently, “I’ve gotta go away—”

“Hello, Kayla.”

My breath stalled at the sound of his voice. Time had done nothing to erase it from my mind. I slowly turned. He stood in the doorway, a stethoscope dangling from his neck. God, he was a doctor now. Last I’d seen him, he’d been on the verge of entering medical school.

Last I’d seen him, I’d broken both of our hearts.

“Ian . . . it’s been a long time.” What kind of idiotic response was that? Seven years, and that was all I could come up with?

His hazel gaze darted to Eve, and I didn’t have to guess at the confusion on his face. Seven years ago I’d been pregnant; Eve was three. “And apparently a lot has happened since.” He brought a hand up and fiddled with the pen in his shirt pocket, and his eyes drifted to my left hand. Sometimes I still felt the phantom weight of my wedding band.

“You work here now?” I asked before he could ask the questions I saw in his eyes—the ones I didn’t want to answer.

“Just transferred from Salem.” He stepped inside and closed the door. “I heard your daughter was here. I wanted to come by and see you. See if I could do anything to help.” He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have intruded like this.”

“It’s okay, you’re not.”

He moved to Eve’s bedside; she’d settled into a light doze. “Leukemia?”

I wrapped my arms around myself and nodded.

“What phase is she?”

“Acute. She stopped responding to chemo.”

“Jesus, Kayla.” He ran a hand through his short hair; it was lighter than I remembered. “I’m sorry.”

“We’re not giving up.” I lost count of how many times I recited the phrase daily.

Ian was about to say more when my cell vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, and upon recognizing Gage’s number, willed my face into a neutral mask. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I . . . I have a business trip this weekend. I tried getting out of it.” I nibbled on my lip and looked at Eve. “I hate leaving her.”

Ian pulled out a prescription tablet and wrote down his number. “Call me if you need anything. Or even if you don’t . . . well, you know how to reach me now.” His fingers brushed mine, lingering a few seconds as he passed me the slip of paper, and that familiar spark that had been dormant for so long sprung to life. My heart thundered in my ears as our eyes met.

He started to move away. “Ian, wait—” I grabbed his arm. “There is something you can do for me.” I let go of his sleeve. “Can you keep an eye on Eve for me? You know, if you’re gonna be here?”

“That’s not a problem. I can do that.”

A lock of hair fell over his brow. I clenched my fists to keep from brushing it back. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’ll see you when you get back.” He hesitated a few seconds, and then noiselessly disappeared into the hall.





3. TRAINED

I barely remembered the drive to Gage’s place in Portland Heights. My GPS directed me there, but if I needed to repeat the trip without assistance I’d more than likely get lost. A wall of trees cradled his massive house, affording a sense of seclusion even though the city sparkled below. Willing my skittish feet to stay put, I rapped on the door.

He yanked it open. “You’re late.” He took one look at my business suit and frowned. “Training you is going to be a challenge, I see.” The corner of his mouth turned up, as if he relished the idea. Gage gestured for me to enter the foyer. He grabbed my purse before I could protest and rifled through it. “Hand over your phone, too.”

“I need it in case the hospital calls.”