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The unofficial nickname he gave me made me blush as I sat across from him, using all my willpower to keep my thoughts from wandering into more dangerous territory. Dr. Morales regarded me curiously, as though he was already trying to divine what I was about to tell him.
With an apologetic smile, I spared him from guessing. “I’ve gotten an offer from that new patient, Joshua Adams. He wants me to come work full-time at his house for the duration of his treatment and I’m going to accept.”
Santiago’s eyebrows knit together. “This is very sudden, Amelia. Are you…why didn’t you tell him what I’ve heard you say to other patients who asked for the same thing?”
“I did,” I admitted, staring at my hands in my lap. “He’s willing to pay me five times my salary and you know how long I’ve been wanting to go on vacation…that money could help me take some time off.”
My boss hummed thoughtfully. “What are you going to tell your other patients?” There was clear hurt in his voice and I knew then that he would say almost anything to get me to stay.
The infatuation I had with him made my own voice waver when I replied, “I’m going to tell them that I’ll be taking a sabbatical and that they’ll be referred to Natalie since she only has two clients right now.”
Silence filled the space between us and as I listened to the sound of my heartbeat in my ears, I whispered, “If you need to let me go because of this, I understand.”
My boss stood and rounded his desk before leaning on it in front of me. “Querida,” he murmured, drawing my attention to his crestfallen but compassionate gaze, “this is a big opportunity for you and I would never stand in the way of that. Unfortunately, I can’t offer you the pay or vacation time Mr. Adams can. But, I will make sure that you have a job here when you’re done with him.”
Santiago’s hand reached out tentatively to cup my jaw and I had to swallow harshly to keep tears from dotting my eyelashes. We stared at each other motionless for a few moments, willing the stillness to convey all the things we couldn’t say out loud. And then, Dr. Morales pulled away and leaned over to scribble something on a small piece of paper.
“Here’s my personal phone number in case you need to reach me,” he said, holding it out. I took the scrap from him and folded it gently before putting it in my pocket. Santiago hadn’t vocalized it, but I knew the paper’s purpose was twofold—an invitation and lifeline if Josh ended up being a completely different person in his own home.
Rising to my feet, I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around Santiago, murmuring, “Thank you.” It was all that needed to be said in that tiny pocket of time we had alone, and the warmth of his arms around me echoed the same sentiment.
I took a last look at his messy gray-and-black curls and the laugh lines around his eyes. And then I walked back to my own office on shaky legs.
Dialing Josh’s number, I swiped tears from my cheeks as I listened to his static-laced voicemail.
“Mr. Adams, this is Amelia—I’ll do it.”
Chapter Seven
Joshua
WhenItoldLailathat my physical therapist would be moving in to give me around-the-clock care, she scoffed. “Is this what you’re doing to get back at me for not finalizing our divorce yet?” Laila mocked in her high-class accent. “Or is it because I won’t be home until August?”
I glanced at the calendar hanging by my desk in my home office and noted happily that I had just recently flipped it to March, meaning Amelia would be here any day now. Heaving what I hoped sounded like an exasperated sigh, I answered, “No, this has nothing to do with you, Lai. The doctors insisted that Ms. Roberts be here with me at all times because you threatened to sue them if I didn’t get the best care.”
There had been very few times in our marriage where I lied to her so I didn’t feel bad about bending the truth slightly to keep Laila from discovering my real reason for having Amelia at the house. Besides, it was a large enough mansion that I assumed my future ex-wife could imagine my physical therapist and I would hardly ever cross paths.
“I see,” Laila said pridefully. “I told you to be firm with that hospital staff, Joshie. I hate to think what would have happened if I hadn’t been there to advocate for you.”
“Indeed,” I concluded, mindlessly sifting through the stacks of contracts on my desk. “I’m very lucky to have you, Lai. And I think you and Ms. Roberts might end up getting along—if you ever meet.”
My future ex-wife inhaled deeply, signaling that she was going to start her theatrics again, making me remove my reading glasses to rub at the bridge of my nose with my forefinger and thumb. “Oh, Joshie,” Laila groaned, “you know I wish I could be there to help take care of you, even though wearegetting divorced. But I simply can’t put aside my work…you know how important the arts are.”
Laila had never performed a day in her life, but I let her pretend that modeling the latest bizarre fashions no one would ever wear was, in fact, Shakespearian in nature. “You’re doing great work,” I complimented. “I’ll call you next week to let you know how everything’s going, okay?”
“Of course,” she agreed girlishly, clearly happy to still have my attention and some semblance of my mild affection, “Bye, Joshie!”
And then Laila hung up, and as I tucked my phone back in my pocket, I felt relief that Amelia and I would have no interruptions for the foreseeable future.
Amelia moved in less than two days after my phone call with Laila, carrying two suitcases and a couple cardboard boxes over my threshold with ease. Hobbling over, I reached out with my free hand, smiling softly. “Let me help you, Red.”
“No, I’ve got it!” she declared, rolling her suitcases to stand by the door. “Where should I put my stuff?”
I led her with an outstretched arm to one of our nicer guestrooms on the main level, watching with amusement as Amelia gawked at her new surroundings. “This is beautiful,” she gasped, turning around in circles to admire everything all at once. “Are you sure you want me staying here? I think this room might be too nice for a lowly peasant like me.”
Chuckling to myself at her joke, I reassured, “This is where Laila and I keep our most important guests. If anything, you make the room even more lovely than it was before you arrived.”
Amelia set her boxes down on the hardwood floor with a thud and hid her bashful smile behind the waterfall of her red hair as it cascaded down her shoulder. “Just because we’re out of my office doesn’t mean you can try to charm my pants off again, Mr. Adams,” she reminded me sarcastically, fixing me with a lopsided smile.
