Heart Like Mine (25 page)

“That part comes after the speeches … and hopefully a couple of wallet-loosening drinks.”

Joshua nodded sagely. “Sounds like a job for Papi's Poison.”

“Oh, God.” Delaney laughed. “We should have thought of that.”

“Do you want to sit?” Joshua pointed to the two chaise lounges behind them. “Speeches will probably be going on for a while yet, and it looks like we're about to have another impressive sunset.”

Delaney looked out at the lake, which was starting to glow as the sun crept downward. Her entire body heated as she remembered the last—sunset—they'd shared. Somehow she knew he was thinking about it, too, though neither of them spoke.

“Okay. Just for a bit.”

He shifted the chairs so they were an appropriate, collegial distance apart, then waited for her to sit before he folded himself onto his chair. She tried not to notice the way his dress shirt hugged his pecs, or the way she could see just the right sprinkling of dark hair on his forearms where he'd rolled up the cuffs.

“So…” He folded his arms over his chest. “This is where we make professional small talk, right?”

“Yes.” She smiled, rolling her eyes.

“So it's not appropriate for me, at this juncture, to tell you I can't get you out of my damn head?”

“No. Definitely not.”

“I can't.”

She bit her lip, staring over the balcony, feeling his eyes on her.

It's mutual, buddy.

He sighed. “But since we're not talking about that, and since we're at a hospital function, want to talk about the hospital?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, small talk. There's actually something I keep wondering about, watching you with the patients on the floor over the past couple of weeks.”

“Oh?” She felt her shoulders relax.

“Ever regret that you left med school?”

Delaney took a deep breath. “Every day.”

“Feel like you've let your dad down?”

“No. Because I went in all starry-eyed, wanting to be the kind of doctor who never wanted to say
I'm sorry—there's nothing more we can do
. But at some point in that first year, I realized that doctor doesn't exist. I let
me
down.” She shook her head. “I make a really lousy surgeon's daughter.”

“No, you don't.”

“I know. Sometimes.” She looked over at him, realizing suddenly how little she knew about him, outside the hospital. “What about you? What do your parents do?”

She saw a shadow pass over his face before he answered. “Substitute teacher and an electrician.”

“But you weren't born with the wiring gene? Had to settle for med school?”

“Something like that.”

“Why'd you choose pediatrics? Besides Avery, I mean.”

Joshua took a deep breath, shifting his gaze out toward the lake. “I actually started out thinking I'd go into oncology, for all the obvious reasons.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Honestly?” He sighed. “Like you, I hated the odds. They've made so much progress, but at the time, I didn't know if I could handle knowing that a high percentage of kids on my watch weren't going to make it. I wasn't nearly as attached to Avery as Josie and Ethan were, and her death still cleaned my clock. I couldn't imagine having a hand in—not being able to save somebody's child.”

His simple, quiet statement clenched her gut. Hard.

“Yet you ended up choosing pediatrics.”

“I know. It doesn't completely make sense, but I'm glad I did. The stars aligned, or whatever nonsense you want to call it. Someday I'll have that little office with my own hand-picked nurses and dozens of cute kids. Mercy is perfect for now, though.”

Delaney had only been on the pediatric floor for a week and a half, but that had been enough to witness the hours the man worked, and that was in addition to his rounds at Avery's House.

“Are you ever concerned about burning out? With the schedule you have?”

“All the time, yeah. But it's the life I chose.”

“Must not leave you much time for a social life.”

He looked at her, smiling. “Well, I found time to come to this to-die-for event, right?”

“I'm sure there's nowhere you'd rather be.”

“Maybe.” His eyes held hers for one beat longer than was comfortable … or casual. “Maybe not.”

“Do you—think the speeches are done yet?” She hated that her voice sounded nervous. Again.

“Why? Are you anxious to get back in there?” Before Delaney could answer, he touched her hand, sending zings up her entire arm. “What were you thinking about when I came out here?”

She closed her eyes. Now was not the time or place to tell him about Parker. “Nothing, really.”

“I don't buy the speck-of-dust-in-the-eye thing. Just saying.”

She looked at him, and the concern in his eyes just about undid her. Why did he care? He barely knew her, for God's sake. And she definitely didn't know him well enough to start spilling her family history all over a hotel balcony.

“Delaney, I know in a way, we've just barely met, and I'm not delusional enough to think that one night at the lake gives me the right to know anything, but if you need one, I've been told I'm a pretty good listener.”

She smiled. “I know.”

She did know. She'd seen him pull up chairs in patient rooms like he had all day to sit with a particular kid or parent, even though he had mountains of tasks waiting just outside that room. She'd seen moms visibly relax when he appeared, and she'd watched kids reach out to hug him, when they were dead afraid of everybody else who came into their rooms.

Even Charlotte loved him to death, and Delaney was pretty damn sure the girl had a well-oiled bullshit meter.

They sat in silence for a full minute before Joshua turned to her. “I have a really personal question for you, but don't feel like you have to answer it if it's
too
personal.”

“Oh, boy.”

He smiled. “I know. That's a terrifying way to open a conversation.” He took a breath. “I can't help but feel like you've got a personal stake in this somehow. Like it's more than your job you're worried about. Why is pediatrics so important to you?”

“Because it's the right thing to do, Joshua.” She fiddled with her purse strap. “Cutting this budget is going to hurt somebody in the end. Maybe more than one somebody.”

“Okay.” He nodded, looking back out at the lake, where a fleet of tiny sailboats was cruising along a triangular course, competing in the weekly race.

They sat in silence again, but before she could stop the words from flying out of her mouth, Delaney said, “I had a little brother.”

Joshua looked at her quickly. “Had?”

“Had.” She nodded, biting her cheek so she wouldn't cry. “He died when he was five.”

“Oh, no. I'm so sorry.” He reached out again and took her hand. “What was his name?”

“Parker. He was named after my grandfather.”

Joshua stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, his eyes serious, eyebrows pushed together in concern.

“What was Parker like?”

Delaney met his eyes. That was never the first question people asked.
What happened? How'd he die?
was the standard response, and for some reason, she felt inordinately happy that Joshua had skipped those two questions and, instead, had wanted to know who Parker was, rather than how he'd died.

“He was amazing. Supersmart, cute, funny. He used to make up these jokes that were just
terrible
, but he'd laugh so hard he'd tip over. And he loved being outside.
Loved
camping. We used to do that all the time.”

Delaney's voice trailed off as she realized how many things they'd done as a family, before he'd died. Their annual two-week camping trip had been one of them, and she remembered it as the one time a year that her father actually disconnected from work and turned his attention fully to his own family.

“What did he look like?”

Delaney described him, and as she estimated his height with her hands and pictured his laughing green eyes, she felt him come alive, in a way. Telling Joshua about him, after being forced for so many years not to talk about him at home, was freeing.

Twenty minutes later, she was holding her stomach, laughing while she told the story of Parker sneaking a frog into the butter dish one morning just before Mom's toast popped up from the toaster.

Joshua was laughing, too—the kind of big, hearty laugh that made people around join in even if they had no idea what was funny. But it was just the two of them on the balcony still, and she found the laughter beautifully intimate.

“I can totally picture him sitting on his hands at the table, just
dying
for her to open that butter dish.”

Delaney smiled. “That was definitely the end of Gramma's china. That dish smashed so hard on the tile that we were still picking up shards a week later. I've never seen a woman defend herself so effectively with a butter dish.”

He laughed. “Did the frog survive?”

“Barely. Parker scooped him under the table and hid until Mom stopped shrieking for long enough to realize it had been a prank.”

“I would really like to have met this kid.”

“Yeah.” Delaney's voice sobered. “You would have loved him.”

Joshua squeezed her hand. “I definitely would have.”

He still hadn't asked what happened, and for that, Delaney was grateful. For the past twenty minutes, she'd been able to think of Parker as the very alive little boy he'd been, rather than the tragic story he'd become.

She squeezed back. “Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime, Delaney.” He raised his eyebrows and pointed his head toward the door. “Think the dancing has started yet? Should we think about heading back in?”

“Probably. My father will have a fit if I miss our annual waltz.”

Joshua laughed as he stood up, then pulled her up from her lounge chair. When they were both standing, Delaney took a shaky breath, realizing that with one step, she could be in his arms, against his body.

Then he let go of her hand and took a step back. “Dr. Blair.” Joshua reached out his right hand toward—
ack
—her father. “Joshua Mackenzie. Pediatrics. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Dad stuck out his hand, taking Joshua's firmly in his.

“I wondered who'd stolen my daughter.”

“We were just heading back inside. Delaney tells me she owes you a dance.” Joshua smiled at her, and though she'd much rather have been falling into
his
arms on a balcony rather than her father's stiff ones on the dance floor, she admired the ease with which he'd shown the kind of respect her dad would appreciate.

As her father turned to lead them back to the ballroom, Joshua subtly squeezed her hand, leaning close to her ear.

“Save me a dance for later?”

She shivered as his breath on her neck made her tingle all over.

They reached the ballroom, and as her father turned around to see if she was still following, Joshua's beeper went off.

“Uh-oh.” He pulled it from his belt, then frowned at the readout. “Looks like I might have to take a rain check on that dance. I need to go.”

“Everything okay?”

Delaney's stomach jumped, and she realized the only emotion her own dad's beeper had ever elicited was pure annoyance. It had been a constant sound in her childhood—one that meant whatever they were currently doing had to be curtailed so he could either spend the next hour on the phone, or head back to the hospital. By the time she'd been a teen, she'd started to suspect some of those calls had been prearranged to get him out of things he hated doing, but she never dared say so, and he never let the beeper out of his sight long enough for her to peek.

But when Joshua's beeper went off, it meant someone at Mercy needed him, and now she knew who a lot of those someones were. Was Charlotte in trouble? Kaya? Ian? She pictured each one of their faces, and her stomach felt tight.

“Anyone I know?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Avery's House call this time. I'm sorry. I really have to go.”

“Of course. I'll see you tomorrow.”

As he headed down the hallway, she couldn't help but watch him. She also couldn't help feeling a little bit empty when he rounded the corner.

And that was a scary emotion.

 

Chapter 22

On Thursday afternoon, Joshua leaned out of his office as Delaney wheeled Kaya by his door.

“Hey—I just had an idea.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I want to know how things went last night after I left, and you haven't eaten all day, so you're definitely hungry, right? How about you tell me over dinner?”

She stopped, looking around to see if anyone had heard him, but all of the nurses she could see looked far too busy to bother listening.
Say no
, her brain shouted, but her mouth was too fast.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Ethan's picking up Bellinis—bringing it to Avery's House. It's kind of our Thursday-night tradition. I know they'd love to hear how things went at the fund-raiser.” He winked. “We can call it a business dinner if it'll make you feel better.”

She rolled her eyes. She so wanted to say yes, but she knew if she spent one more outside-the-hospital minute with this man, she was going to lose her freaking head. And yet
no thank you
wasn't what came out of her mouth next.

“One question—do you guys ever eat anything
but
Mama B's cooking?”

“Not often, no.”

She laughed, then sobered. “Don't you think your friends might get suspicious that I keep tagging along? Have you considered that?”