He smiled, but it was mirthless. “Not as sorry as I was. By the time I figured it out, I’d planned our future together. I didn’t realize what she was doing until I asked her to leave her husband. She laughed in my face.”
“That’s awful.” She winced. What else could she say? This had transpired years ago, and Des had had time to process it inwhatever way he’d needed, but he hadn’t deserved that kind of pain. No one did.
“It was a shit show,” he agreed.
“Did she not think that breaking your heart would put a kink in her career ambitions? That you wouldn’t tell your dad what happened?”
He snorted without humor. “No, she didn’t, and she was right. I never would have told him. If it hadn’t all blown up, it would have gone exactly to plan. I had started mentioning what a great surgeon she was. She just didn’t count on me getting greedy with her. If she’d held back a little more, made me believe she’d leave her husband, we could have kept up the secret affair for years. And once it did blow up, once she refused to leave him, I wouldn’t have told my dad or anyone else. Are you kidding? That would have been so embarrassing, the intern falling for the attending then getting his ass handed to him. Tragic.”
“Then...” Cami frowned. “Nothing happened? She just got away with it?”
“Oh, no.” He shook his head and gently maneuvered her so that he could sit up and fold his legs under himself. “It all came out, but only because one of the other interns found out and tattled on us. It spread through the hospital, got back to my dad. There were hearings. Madilyn was fired, and I quit the hospital and dropped out of med school. It was too much of the wrong kind of attention, and with my dad being the Chief of Surgery, the scrutiny was a thousand times worse than what it would have been if I’d been a nobody. Sticking around was embarrassing for me and for my family. My mom and Olivia work there, too, remember. So yeah, I quit, and...” He sighed. “Found another line of work.”
“It seems to be working out pretty well for you, though.” She gestured around them, to his expensive and tastefully decoratedbedroom, to the million-dollar home a few minutes from the Santa Monica coast.
This time when he smiled, it was genuine. “That it has,” he agreed. “No regrets here, except, maybe, being such a fool in the first place. I’ve made enough to pay my dad back for the years of medical school tuition, since they ended up being useless.”
“Not entirely useless,” she countered, a smile flirting with the corners of her lips. “Assuming you got to keep one or two of those white coats.”
She waggled her eyebrows and he laughed heartily, sifting one hand into her hair and drawing her up against him for a kiss. He smiled against her mouth, and it made her warm and liquid inside.
“I’m sure I could scrounge one up if you want to play doctor,” he promised, his lips trailing down to the hinge of her jaw. “But I won’t allow you to distract me yet again, foul temptress. You’re welcome to come to dinner with the Doctors Blake if you want to. But be forewarned, there will likely be awkward mentions of my ex and my disastrous exit from the medical field. It will most definitely be a nightmare.” He said it to the space just under her earlobe, and she wasn’t sure if it was because he liked it there or because it was a convenient way to avoid her eyes.
Maybe it was both.
“Will it still be a nightmare if I’m not there?” She cocked her head to give him more space to nuzzle, and laid one hand on his knee, dragging her thumb over it through his bedsheet.
“Absolutely.”
“Will it be less of a nightmare if I go?”
He inhaled, drawing his nose to her hairline and breathing in the scent of his own shampoo.
For a moment, he didn’t say anything, maybe mulling over the answer. Then he exhaled and said again, “Absolutely.”
“Then I’ll come. If it’ll be easier for you, of course I’ll come.”
It occurred to her, belatedly, that maybe that was too much to say. Maybe it was too much like a girlfriend to offer to be there for emotional support, for meetings with difficult family members. After everything he’d told her, no wonder he avoided serious relationships. Even if he didn’t sleep around, opening up to someone after what he’d gone through would be a big step. It was presumptuous of her to think he might be willing to do that with her, just because he didn’t go hopping from bedmate to bedmate. An invite to dinner with the family, not even extended by Des himself, was hardly proof of interest in a relationship. But she could go to dinner without being serious with him. Friends did that. They could be friends who also had orgasms. Friends with benefits was the cool new thing, right? Maybe that’s what they were.
“I’d like that,” he said, pulling away from her hairline to kiss her heatedly on the mouth. “I’d like it a lot.”
22
Instead of texting Cami to let her know he was in the parking lot, Des took the stairs to her apartment two at a time, extra motorcycle helmet in hand, to knock on her door the old-fashioned way. A muffled “Coming!” was followed by clunking and a vehement curse word before the door jerked open to reveal Cami in a flowy, floral print blouse with elbow-length sleeves and cropped white jeans. Her hair had been curled in a way that made him feel bad about handing her the helmet.
“You look lovely,” he said, and dropped a kiss to her cheek. “I’m sure the effect of the helmet will only make your hair look naturally bouncy.”
“Hat hair is the cool new look with the youths these days,” she laughed, and trailed him down the staircase to his bike.
The ride from her apartment to his parents’ house in Malibu wasn’t exceptionally long, even on a Saturday evening. He weaved carefully through traffic on Pacific Coast Highway as she clung to his waist, her face pressed against his shoulders so she could watch the coast as it passed. He didn’t know how comfortable she was on motorcycles, but given what he knew of her past, he doubted it was a lot. Still, she didn’t squeak in his earor tighten her hold on him when he leaned to take a gentle turn. Maybe she was just unconcerned in general, but he liked to think he could chalk it up to trust. He wanted her to trust him.
When they pulled onto his parents’ street, he slowed. She eased away from him to turn her head and look around. She’d only been in California for a year and didn’t have transportation of her own. Had she even been to Malibu before? Maybe he’d take her for a day trip soon, let her enjoy the beach before the summer faded away into the chillier, foggy autumn mornings where the only people who braved the water were the surfers.
Olivia’s car was nestled in the wide drive, pulled up snug to the closed double garage doors which shielded his parents’ twin SUVs. The house was too big for them. He wondered, as he parked next to Liv’s car and killed the engine, if Cami would find the excess wasteful.
“I know it’s big,” he said once he’d removed his helmet. “They bought it a couple years back in anticipation of their forthcoming—” Air quotes. “—retirement. Three bedrooms for one couple? Yeah, right. They’re hoping for grandkids.” He climbed off the bike, slid his helmet onto one of the handlebars, and offered her help getting off. As she took his hand, he winked. “No pressure.”
“What? Me, feel pressured by the obscenely rich surgeon couple with the multi-million dollar home?” She pulled her helmet off and then laughed too loud, her face screwed up in adorable anxiety that belied the laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. This dump would fit in my childhood bathroom.”
