Hotshot (20 page)

Shame crashes into me as I continue to stare, my eyes begging with her.

“No, no, no…” She lets out a broken sob, her body starting to tremble.

I sit mute, still unable to speak. But the silence is her answer. She leaps up. In a flash, she’s snatched her purse off the counter and is out my front door.

“I’m so sorry,” is all that creaks out before I watch the door slam, crushing my heart.

Bizzy

I slink into the nurse’s lounge and walk on autopilot to the back, heading for the private shower. Once I’m naked and sure I’m alone, my legs give out, dropping me to the floor where I sit cross-legged, letting the warm water wash away my tears. I cry for the hundredth time in two days, wondering when my tear ducts will dry up.

No food, little liquid, and little sleep take over, and I lean against the wall, going through the motions of cleaning myself.

Long after my skin is pruned, I stand, forcing myself to dry and dress for the meeting Nurse Evie called today. It’s mandatory every nurse on the floor attend, and I don’t want to look like a walking zombie.

Fat. Fucking. Chance.

Claire meets me in the lounge, handing me my favorite coffee, and I attempt a smile, which turns out more like a grimace.

She leads me to the back of the meeting room and goes about braiding my hair. When she’s done, she slides her hand into mine and tugs me to lean on her.

This is the only way she knows to take care of me. I haven’t spoken much since fleeing Shaw’s place on Friday night. Once I ran out, she was hot on my heels, telling me to hold it together until she got us away. I let her drive us through downtown Miami, screaming at anyone in her way until we arrived at a penthouse complex. Even through the walk to the elevator, the ride, and her quiet whispers to the doorman, nothing hit me. When she led me into a plush condo, I fell onto the sofa.

And didn’t get up…

She laid with me all night, bringing blankets, pillows, and bottles of water while I wailed. She tried to make sense of something both of us knew was horrible. I finally passed out, her hugging me close and promising to make it better.

The next day, I woke, sore and heartbroken, finally taking in the lavishness of the place. It was incredibly fancy. More fancy than the suite Shaw had gotten us in Tampa. I tried to be quiet as tears ran down my face, but she woke and explained it was one of her parents’ properties, and we were off the grid. I was safe to break down.

Shaw wouldn’t find us.

Her apartment, my apartment, Nick’s apartment, they were all places Shaw would search, but here we were fine. Both of us had to be at work that night, so she made some calls, and within a few hours, we had fresh clothes, including scrubs.

When we got to work, I forced myself to pull it together— smiling, laughing, and trying my best to keep my kids’ spirits up.

My tears dried until my shift was over and I saw Mathis, in street clothes, talking to Evie. This was his day off, so he was probably waiting on me. I wasn’t ready to see him, but I also wasn’t ready to go home.

So I snuck downstairs to the regular pediatric unit and offered to help out. No one thought twice until Claire came down, raging, and insisted I come with her. Everyone’s eyes bulged as I fought her, dragging me away.

She laid me on a cot, situating herself beside me, and held me close, doing the only thing she knew to do as my heart was breaking. We laid there until it was time for our shift, her sleeping, me replaying the events over and over in my mind.

Shaw’s anguished expression…

His face drained of color…

The fear in his eyes…

Then the silence, undeniable silence…

Shaw’s going to be a dad…

Claire pushes against my side, bringing me back to the meeting. I sit up and look around, locking eyes with Mathis, who is staring at me intently. His expression is blank, but I see the heat behind the gaze. He’s sending me a message that says,
we’re going to talk
. I wouldn’t be surprised if Shaw and Nicky are waiting at the nurse’s station when this meeting ends.

Pushing the thought aside, I make myself pay attention.

“So as we help them establish a protocol, we’ve been asked to provide employees willing to do travel assignments. Our employees know how we make things happen with our unit. They want the same. If you are interested, come talk to me. We will go through a process to make sure your shifts are taken care of. This is time sensitive, so let me know soon.”

She takes a few questions, but I lean into Claire’s ear, not understanding. “What just happened?”

“From what I understand, we bought a hospital in Charlotte. They need help everywhere, Pediatric Oncology included. Any nurse willing to travel and help train is being asked to talk to her.”

Evie talks a little more, going over some patient charts and a few special appearances coming up on the wing. When the meeting is over, I remain seated, waiting for Mathis. Claire stays with me, slipping my phone in my hand as he approaches.

“Hey.” He squats down and places his hands on my knees. “Are you doing okay?”

“No,” I answer honestly, willing myself not to cry.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but he’s worse than you. And Nick’s been climbing the walls.”

“I’ll give Nicky a call. I just got this back.” I tap on my phone screen. “It’s been off since—”

“We know. Claire’s been keeping me updated.”

I swing my head to her, and she shrugs unapologetically. “I had to let them know you weren’t dead in a ditch,” she goes on to explain.

“Bizzy, I can’t even imagine what’s going through your head. We all love you. Talk to me, talk to Nick, and I beg you, talk to Shaw.” Mathis speaks in his soothing doctor voice.

Usually, I love this voice, but using it on me seems condescending. Instead of lashing out, I take a few deep breaths, reminding myself this isn’t his fault.

“I’ll call him when I can hold a conversation without breaking down. It’s going to take time.”

“I understand, and I promise to try and stay neutral, but you need to know, he didn’t want this. Sasha means nothing to him. Without sounding crass, he has to live the rest of his life with this mistake.”

“The baby really is his, isn’t it?” Saying it out loud sears my throat.

“He believes so, and he’s trying to do the right thing here. Demanding the paternity test was the first of many steps. After you ran out on Friday night, he explained everything. I know you’re hurting, but he’s killing himself over this.”

“I’ll be fine after a few days. The shock is wearing off. It’s probably time I go home, get some sleep, sort my head, and come up with what I want to say.”

They share a look, and I get an uncomfortable vibe. “What?”

“Shaw went to your house on Friday night. He’s sworn to stay until you come home and talk to him. The only time he left was to come up here during your shift.”

“He’s been here?”

“Yeah, he’s been in the main waiting room, hoping you’d call. He wanted to be close.”

My heart and stomach both twist at the thought of him sleeping in the uncomfortable chairs. Instead of responding, I turn on my phone and watch the notifications pop up. So many voicemails, text messages, and emails I don’t dare try to go through them yet.

Exhaustion finally sinks in, and I feel the effects of spending the last thirty-eight hours here.

“I’m going home,” I announce, getting up.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Claire eyes me worriedly.

“No, I’m going to sleep. Really sleep. I’m going to clear my head and think rationally. My heart has had enough time to control my emotions. It’s time my brain kicks in.”

“Call me later, okay? I’ll worry about you.”

“Me too.” Mathis stands and leans in to hug me, kissing my cheek. “Give him a chance to explain.”

I muster a little nod and head to the nurse’s lounge to get my stuff. It’s then I realize I don’t have a car. Instead of bothering Claire, I order an Uber and rush downstairs. Once I’m in the car, I send her a text, knowing she’s going to kill me. That’s the least of my worries right now.

I almost tell the driver to keep driving when we pull up to my apartment and Shaw’s Jaguar is parked in his usual spot. But instead, I brace myself to see him.

My traitorous heart starts to beat faster, knowing he’s so close. Even devastated, I long to feel his arms around me, soothing me, and saying everything is going to be all right. There’s a reason he’s always been the one I run to when something bad happens at work. He knows exactly how to handle my fragile emotional state.

I walk in and am immediately assaulted with the smell of him everywhere. The spicy scent of his cologne and clean fresh fragrance of his soap fill the air. I inhale deep, a small bit of relaxation calming me.

“Thank God you’re okay.” His voice is rough and ragged as he turns from the front window.

I swallow a gasp as I take in his appearance. His hair is practically standing straight from running his hands through it, his usually bright and gorgeous hazel eyes are dull, framed by black circles, and his neatly trimmed beard is overgrown.

Even so, he’s still the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

He doesn’t wait for me to respond, stalking to me and lifting me in his arms, enveloping me in his warmth. The familiarity sends a spark through me, and on impulse, I drop my bag and wrap my arms around him.

A loud sob escapes from deep in my chest, and I fight the avalanche of emotions about to explode. The next few seconds flash by in a blur, and I find myself on his lap on the sofa. My braid is now gone as he massages my scalp and threads his fingers through my hair, soothing me as only he knows how.

Part of me knows I need to move away, force myself out of the comfort of his arms, and ask him to leave.

Pathetically, I can’t.

“I’m not leaving. If you’re thinking of asking me to, I can’t.” He reads my mind.

“I want to so badly, but I can’t seem to make myself ask.”

“Then don’t, because I’d have to say no. And I never want to say no to you.”

“Oh, Shaw.” My breath hitches and I work hard to calm down.

My heart races so fast that I’m certain he can feel it against his own chest.

“I’m sorry doesn’t scratch the surface of how I feel right now. But it’s the only thing that comes to mind. I never meant for this to happen. I’d do anything in this world to change that night, the bad decision, and the ending result.”

“How did this happen, Shaw?” I free my arms and lift away, bracing on his chest. He doesn’t let me go far. Our faces are inches apart as his eyes lock with mine, and I see the pain and turmoil staring back.

“Sex. I had sex with her. It was a meaningless, unfulfilling, eventless fuck. I was so drunk, I don’t even remember.”

“And you didn’t wear protection?”

“Of course I did. That I am one-hundred percent sure of. Apparently it didn’t work.”

“When?” The word squeaks out. “When did you sleep with her?”

More pain flashes across his face, and he drops his eyes, breaking our stare. “Three weeks before we got together. It was the night of your blind date. The three of us made a night of it, going out to make sure you were safe. When you left and we knew you were home, I got shit-faced. Sasha was a convenience, always was.”

His eyes pop open as what he said dawns on me. “Always was? What does that mean?”

“Shit.”

This time, I use all my strength to break apart, moving away from him and curling in a ball in the corner of the sofa. He reaches for me, but I shake my head. “Tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out. If you ever loved me, give me this. Don’t soften the blow.”

He throws his head back and starts talking. Each word is like a stab to my heart. I listen intently, fading back to the fourteen year old who was ridiculed in school because Sasha Crane declared a war on me. Cancer or not, she was a ruthless, heartless bitch.

From his story, it seems she hasn’t changed. Now, we can add manipulative to the list of all her glowing traits.

When he’s done, I notice he’s winded, his chest heaving with beads of sweat rolling down his temple. The nurse in me gets concerned about his blood pressure as his face turns an unnatural shade of red.

I leap up and run to the kitchen, racing back with a bottle of water and shoving it into his shaking palms.

“Take slow sips and try to breathe deep.” I wipe the sweat off his face with my shirt.

“I’m okay.” He struggles to say. “It actually feels good to get it off my chest. My plan was to tell you on Friday night when everyone left. It was eating me up inside, and you deserved to know what was going on. I kept telling myself I was protecting you.”

His arms circle around my waist, his face resting against my stomach.

“Bizzy, I had no idea of your history. Mathis brought it up before we left for Tampa, the day he figured out my feelings for you had grown. He warned me, and I was disgusted. It was over though; I never planned to see her again. You have to believe me; she was faceless to me. She still is.”

My hands rest on his head, my fingers threading though his silky hair. He hugs me tighter to him.

“Shaw, it all makes sense—the sex, the timeline, the pregnancy. But I saw something on your face the other night, and it wasn’t just the way you locked eyes with Mathis. It was more. When you looked at me, it was a confirmation of sorts. That’s how I knew. But what makes you so sure this is your baby?”

“Exactly as you described. With her parting words on Friday, it was the way Sasha looked at me. She’s still a haughty, selfish, arrogant, conceited bitch. There’s no denying it, but in that small millisecond, something changed. It was like she was pleading with me to believe her.

“I’ve been praying nonstop for so many things since this all started, but most recently, I’ve concentrated on two things. One is you don’t leave me. The other is that I am wrong, and the baby isn’t mine.”

My knees go weak with the raw need in his tone. I sink back into his lap, tugging his hair until he’s looking at me.

“I’m not mad at you for having a life before me. I’m not stupid. A man like you has needs, and even though I hated thinking about it, I’ve always known you had a sex life. Never did I think you’d be with Sasha Crane, but I can see it. You’re both beautiful people with successful law careers. You two make more sense than us.”