Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
CALLISTA
" W ell, what did you think of Dr. Russo?” Suzanne inquires, and I bite back a laugh.
I can almost see her on the other end of the line, perched on the edge of her sofa, desperate for some juicy gossip.
Who am I to let my friend down?
“He's amazing in bed. He has the most talented cock." I manage to keep my voice on an even keel, although I barely contain my laughter when she shrieks into the phone.
"Stop with your nonsense. I'm serious. Do you like him as a doctor?"
"I do. He's amenable, and his work history is impeccable. Thank you for recommending him." I fail to mention that Dr. Russo's dark good looks have been dancing on a repeat reel through my brain the last few days, even dropping in for a surprise visit in my slumber.
“Told you he was gorgeous,” Suzanne adds with a knowing chuckle.
"That he is."
And that is the understatement of the century. The man looks like he walked off a fashion runway with his tousled dark hair, bright blue eyes, and chiseled jawline.
He's not your average level handsome—not by any stretch. Devastatingly handsome is a far better term to describe Dr. Keegan Russo. Likely devastating to the myriad of women who fall for the effortless charm oozing from every pore of his body.
He's tricky, indeed. But what a delicious way to go.
"That's it?” Suzanne presses, obviously displeased with my blasé response.
"What do you want me to say? You two admitted he was a total player, not that I'm looking for any kind of relationship. I don't know if I'll ever date again."
"I remember those days."
Suzanne's words aren't the platitudes of a sympathetic friend. They're the truth. She went through hell when her ex left, and it took her years to find her footing again.
Then I took it upon myself to introduce her to my oldest friend, Shawn. I knew they’d be perfect for one another.
I was right.
Despite their best efforts and a list of excuses a mile long for why dating was a terrible idea, they couldn't help but fall in love. Stubborn asses fought it as long as possible, but I reminded them that love always wins in the end.
Just not in my case.
"Callista, I know it feels like you're drowning in sorrow. That it's endless and bottomless. There will always be days that feel like they're swallowing you whole. But there will also be days where you will laugh, and eventually, you'll remember Charlie without shedding a tear."
"I'm nowhere near there yet," I manage, wiping my eyes with the heel of my hand as the tears threaten to break through my toughened exterior. "I suppose it should be easier, right? I had time to prepare for his death. "
"That's total crap. No one can prepare for someone they adore to die. It's just what we tell ourselves to feel better. More normal, somehow."
"He was the love of my life. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with the rest of it now."
"I know it seems impossible to consider, but maybe you have more than one love in this life."
"No, I don't. He was it. I'm finished."
Suzanne opts not to argue the topic further. “We'll see. I don't think love is finished with you yet. Talk soon."
I head to my yoga mat after the phone call, my mind swimming with emotions. Suzanne understands my pain in a way most can't.
Even though her husband didn’t physically die, her life plans built around him crashed when he disappeared into the night. And she swore that was it for love, just as I do now.
But her life is different. She met Shawn, and they clicked. From the beginning, there was a friendship, a camaraderie there.
I haven't met anyone. Granted, to do that, I have to actually leave the house, since walking Domino around my yard doesn't count as social interaction.
I catch sight of my pup, laying on her back, her tongue lolling to one side as she soaks in a sunbeam.
Popping up from my mat, I shake her leash, and she is by my side in seconds. "Want to go for a walk? A real walk, one that involves people?”
I grab my jacket from the coat rack and follow Domino out the door. Some fresh air will do us both good, and New York is showing off this morning. Spring has sprung early.
Time to take advantage.
There are some perks to living close to Main Street, one of them being a high-dollar coffee bar smack dab in the middle of town.
Caffeine, here I come.
"Callista?"
I turn on my heel, my breath catching in my throat. Now I know what Dr. Russo looks like dressed down and let's just say he's exponentially more delicious.
His nickname suits him.
"Hi there, Baby Maker," I reply, clapping my hand over my mouth at my faux pas. "Criminy, why did I say that?"
Thankfully, he's a good sport, chuckling as he runs a hand through his dark hair. "I see my nickname precedes me."
"It does, but I'm privy to inside information."
"You know you have to finish that statement. Can't leave it hanging like that."
I see something else is hanging.
I tear my gaze from the pronounced bulge in his pants, praying to God that for once, my face doesn't turn the same shade as a lobster. "You mean my inside information. You came recommended by Dr. Shawn Bennett and his wife, Suzanne."
"I didn't know you knew them."
"Dr. Russo, I've known Shawn since we were children. He's my best friend."
“Interesting. Did you come to America together?"
"No. He tagged along a few years after I arrived. Claimed he was lost without me.” I shoot Keegan a teasing grin and tug my dog away from the handsome doctor.
But Domino is not easily deterred. She returns to his side, jumps up and places her paws against his leg, seemingly desperate for affection.
All an act, of course, since the little vixen used that same ploy with me. It's also ironic—and somewhat pathetic—that my dog is more apt in the art of flirting than me.
"Sorry about my pup. Domino, get down, please.”
Dr. Russo squats beside her, giving her ears a scratch. “She’s fine. I love dogs."
After the requisite belly rub, he stands and shoves his hands in his pockets, once again drawing my attention downward.
Even in baggy jeans, there's no hiding this man’s assets, and I avert my gaze as another flush crawls up my cheeks.
"I didn't know you lived around here,” Keegan says.
Thank God, a safe topic. "Yes, for about twelve years. I was just about to get some coffee."
"From here?" He screws up his face in distaste. "Come on. The coffee shop at the end of the block is far better, and they allow dogs."
"But, I always come here. It's my haunt."
“Part of the fun of trying new things is leaving your comfort zone. Come on. You're the woman who marched around my office the other day as you laid down the law. You can't be scared of trying a new coffee joint."
“I did do that, didn’t I?” I chuckle, pausing as I recall the last time I'd had such a laugh.
Then I remember. It was the day I met Dr. Russo.
With a sigh, I raise my hand in surrender. “I suppose my coffee shop will forgive me one indiscretion.”
"I think they'll survive without your mocha latte."
We stroll down Main Street, taking in the early spring sunshine. We aren't alone by any stretch. Most of the town's residents are also basking in the glorious day.
He leads us to a small, nondescript building and my brows raise. "Is this a coffee shop or the site of a future murder? Specifically, my murder. "
A chuckle rises from his chest, and I find his laugh infectious. "Hold your horses, drama queen. Just wait and see."
Five minutes later, we're seated in the outdoor courtyard, an inviting space with ivy climbing the walls and a fountain splashing in the corner.
For Domino, it's heaven come to life, and she has one quest. Sniff everything .
Our server delivers our drinks, and I take a sip, noting how his blue eyes remain fixed on me, awaiting my reaction. As soon as it hits my throat, I moan with satisfaction. “That is amazing."
"Told you. Best coffee in town, although I would have pegged you for a tea drinker."
"I love tea. Although, they do allow us other beverages in England."
"What would the King say?"
"I'm not sure. I haven't spoken to him recently. I must inquire on our next Skype call." I drum my fingers along the table, chewing my lower lip. "Do you mind your nickname?"
"Which one?"
"You have more than one?"
"The woman I'm dating calls me Keegey, and I hate that more than a root canal without Novocain."
"I hate it for you."
I feel an odd twinge at the mention of a girlfriend. Am I jealous? I can’t be, can I?
No, I would never pursue a man like Dr. Russo, even if he is the definition of dashing. Although, I suppose Suzanne was wrong about him being a bachelor. Seems he’s not immune to love and that concept doesn’t sit well with me.
What is wrong with you, Callista? You’re a married woman. You shouldn't be thinking of another man, particularly not one who's unavailable. Let’s not forget he’s also my doctor. But damn, the way he fills out those pants …
"It's the worst nickname in the world." Keegan interrupts my thoughts, a lucky break considering how salacious they were getting.
"No," I interject. "It's not. I've got you beat."
"Do tell."
"In year six?—"
Year what?"
After years of being married to a fellow Brit, I forget how many terms are unfamiliar to Yanks. "I was twelve, so junior high here in the States? Anyway, this terribly daft boy decided he no longer liked the name Callista, so he opted to call me Caligula. I didn't know who the hell Caligula was, and neither did the rest of the students. We all found out together about the emperor’s array of kinks. Some nicknames dissipate quickly, but not mine. Lucky me, the nickname stuck all the way through year thirteen."
Keegan grins as another chuckle warms my ears. "I hear he threw some wild orgies."
"Nothing compared to the ones I throw.” I giggle at the handsome doctor’s raised brow. "Hey, I had to one up my namesake."
"I like you, Callista. You've got a killer sense of humor." He averts his gaze, swirling his coffee. "As for my nicknames, I could do worse than Baby Maker. It's what I do, right?"
I choke on my coffee, earning a pat on the back from Dr. Russo. "That's not why they call you that."
"Why do they call me that, then?"
I send him an exasperated glare. "You know the reason."
He throws up his hands. "I don't, but you are going to tell me, considering you're a wealth of vital information about my life.”
“No, sir. I will do no such thing.”
But Keegan has zero intention of letting me off the hook. “ Look, it’s about me, so it’s only fair that you tell me. Besides, it’s not like you invented the nickname, right?”
“Love your logic.”
“Spill it. Why am I called the Baby Maker?”
Likely the man is fucking with me, and knows full well the reason behind his nickname. But after several seconds of his expectant stare, I cave.
"Because," I whisper, my cheeks reddening for the umpteenth time this afternoon, "all the women want to make babies with you."
The comely doctor leans forward, straining to hear my answer. It also provides me with another whiff of him, and it's as disconcerting to my hormones as it was that day in his office. "Why are you whispering?"
"You want me to announce it at full volume? Okay, no problem." I open my mouth, but his hand covers it as we both dissolve into laughter.
"Thank you for your discretion. I have one question, though."
"What's that?"
"Why did you call me Baby Maker? Something you want to tell me?"
I freeze on the spot, unable to break my gaze from his amused smirk. "It just slipped out."
"Did it?"
"It did, because I was thinking about you."
Those azure orbs widen, along with his smirk. "You were ?"
"Holy hell, not in that way." I scrub my face with my hands. "I was thinking about the visit."
Dr. Russo leans back against his chair, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he sips his coffee. “Think I liked the other option better."
There's no chance in hell my skin is remaining a normal shade after that comment. Even if he's joking, it sparks something inside of me. Something I thought died twenty months ago. I'm sure it's nothing. Just innocent banter with a hint of flirtation.
Nothing to see here, folks.
I'm not sure if that fact should relieve or disappoint me. My head tells me relief, but my heart? It's whispering something I can't quite make out.
"Can I ask you something, Callista?"
"Of course, Dr. Russo." My gaze returns to his face, praying I can maintain a neutral expression.
"Call me Keegan."
"Can I call you Keegey?"
"Absolutely not."
"Buzzkill. What do you want to know?"
He leans forward, moving into my space. "Your paperwork says you're a widow. Have you remarried?"
"God, no. I lost Charlie twenty months ago."
He nods, his expression somber. "I'm sorry to hear that. I can tell from your face that he was an amazing man."
"The very best."
"What made you decide to have a child now? I'm not judging; I'm simply curious. Are you involved with someone?"
"It's just me. Charlie battled pancreatic cancer for two years. It was terribly aggressive, but he never gave up hope. Even when we knew there was no chance, he would still sit and talk about our future … as if we were going to have one." I swipe at the dampness on my cheeks, surprised by my tears’ sudden appearance. "I'm sorry. I try not to talk about him."
"Why not?"
"No one wants to hear stories of a grieving widow. After six months, people expect you to bounce back to your old form. By the time you're twenty months out like me, even your closest friends tire of the repeating sorrow reel."
"You refer to it like a prison sentence. "
I grab up my napkin, embarrassed by my open display of emotion. What is it about this man and his direct but sensitive disposition that pries apart the walls I so carefully erected after Charlie's death? Talk about an incredible bedside manner.
"Isn't it? Perhaps that sounds morbid, but that's the way I look at it most days. Until recently, anyway."
He has the most expressive eyes, but I can tell he isn't certain what I mean by my last statement.
To be honest, neither am I. Is it the idea of having Charlie's baby or the handsome and kind man with whom I'm sharing coffee? That's the thing with loneliness. You never know what triggers it, and often, you never realize what will soothe it.
"You think having a baby will bring back some of your joie de vivre?"
"One can hope. I'm sorry, Keegan. This is why I don't interact with people. I always end up talking about Charlie, and that kills any chance for fun. See? I ruined our little outing, too."
He reaches across the table, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. "No, you didn't. You helped me understand you more. I always have questions for my patients, wondering about their reasons. But, I've learned it’s better not to ask."
"Yet you asked me."
"You're different."
"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult." I’m also not sure I want to know.
Keegan shifts in his seat and I swear a hint of color crawls up his cheeks. "Trust me, it's a compliment. I think you'd be a great mom, and I can't say that about every woman. You have your nurturing instinct down pat, along with what I surmise is a kick-ass left hook."
"Actually, it's an uppercut." I fiddle with my spoon, my gaze downward. "Do you think I'm crazy? "
"For wanting a baby?" He shakes his head, his expression devoid of emotion. "Most women want a baby."
"For wanting my husband's baby."
He leans back, a look of realization flashing across his face. "I didn't realize that was an option. I don't think it's crazy at all, Callista. It makes sense. You want to continue his legacy."
"Exactly. He deserves the chance to live on." I try to gauge Keegan's opinion of my revelation, but aside from his forced smile, he's playing it cool. Time to move him to the hot seat. "Do you have children?"
"No." That's a short and clipped reply.
"Do you plan to?"
"Again, no."
I should stop pressing him. It's obvious this is a touchy subject. But anyone who knows me knows that I read all the warning signs … and then ignore them as I walk past. "Why not? You spend your days helping people become parents. Hasn't baby fever hit you yet?”
He shakes his head, downing the last of his coffee. "No, and it won't either. I've no interest in having a family."
"Does your girlfriend know that?"
"She does, but she's not my girlfriend. She's a woman I date. Big difference."
"Sounds like the difference is semantics."
He shifts again in his chair. I've hit a nerve. "I suppose you have a point."
"Tell me about her, this woman you date." I'm not sure why I care to know, but I don't want this moment to end. For the first time in longer than I can recall, I feel normal. Alive.
Keegan shrugs, his gaze focused on the far wall. "Not much to tell."
"I'm sure that isn't true."
"I'm serious, but since you asked, this is Megan.” He pulls out his phone and slides it across the table. On the screen is a gorgeous brunette, not a day over twenty-five. With voluptuous curves spilling out of her body-conscious dress and her come-hither smile, Megan is every man's dream.
Their very wet dream.
I drop my gaze to inspect my outfit, which only an hour earlier seemed perfectly acceptable for a coffee run. Now, my messy bun and dog-covered sweats seem ridiculous and dowdy when compared to Megan’s glamorous appeal.
Talk about polar opposites.
"She's gorgeous, Keegan."
What else can I say? If you look in the dictionary beside the word high-maintenance, you'll find Megan’s photo?
“Yes, and she knows it,” Keegan mutters.
"Most women like her have a healthy self-confidence. Why wouldn’t she?”
"If only she had the brains to back it up."
I cover my mouth, but a giggle slips through at his pointed barb. "That's not very nice."
"Perhaps not, but it's true. Somewhere, there's a village missing their idiot."
The man should have given me fair warning that he was going to make that statement. I'm mid sip when coffee spurts from my lips, covering everything—and everyone—at the table. Hell, I think a few drops wound up on Domino.
My cheeks flame as I snatch a napkin from the holder to blot up my mess. "Talk about a party foul. I didn't get you, did I?"
I wish establishments came equipped with trapdoors for just such an occasion.
Thankfully, Keegan is more amused than disturbed by my coffee fountain trick. He grabs a napkin, helping to clear the evidence from the table. "I'm safe. This time, at least.”
“I’ve never heard that expression before. It struck me as funny. "
"Which one? A village is missing their idiot? My mother's family is from the South, and they are the kings of interesting expressions." He laughs, and it’s then I notice the dimple beneath his stubble. "To be honest, I'd always hoped for a reaction just like the one you gave me. Thank you, Calli."
I pause at the use of my nickname. It's not that I dislike being called Calli. Hell, most of my friends and family adopted the moniker years ago. But there's a familiarity with it, one far beyond the connection I have with Keegan.
Even though Keegan doesn't feel like a stranger. In truth, he's the most comfort I've found since Charlie died.
Time to shake my brain off the path it seems to determined to tread.
I motion to Keegan’s face. "Are you growing a beard or just giving your razor a few days off?"
He runs his hand over his jaw. "I haven't totally decided yet. I'd like to, but?—"
"Your girlfriend doesn't like beards."
He snaps his fingers, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "Bingo. Do you like beards, Calli?"
There's my nickname again. Every time he says it, warmth flows through my body, heating areas that have been frozen for almost two years. "I have a weakness for them, actually. Charlie couldn't grow a beard. He tried, but it was all patchy and looked like he had mange. But a man with a nice beard? That's sexy."
Oh God, did I just infer that Keegan is sexy?
There go my cheeks again, turning a lovely shade of lobster. At this point, I might as well paint my face red and save my body the trouble.
I clear my throat, while my brain tries to figure out how to scale back my previous statement. "Not that I'm calling you sexy. I mean, you are—obviously. Look at you. It's no wonder women call you the Baby Maker. You're gorgeous. Fuck, I’m going to go die now before I say anything more.”
His eyes widen with every sentence, as a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. By the end of my mortifying diatribe, he's grinning from ear to ear.
I grab my purse and scoot my chair back from the table.
Well, that takes the cake as the most embarrassing moment of my life. That's the trouble; when I get flustered, I let everything flow from my brain to my mouth with nary a filter in sight. Lucky for me, it rarely happens.
In fact, I haven't been this flustered since the night I met Charlie.
Until now.
And now, I need to find a new reproductive … whatever Shawn called him. A new Baby Maker.
Keegan reaches across the table, grasping my arm. "No way. You don't get to rush off now. I can sit here and listen to you sing my praises all damn day."
I bury my face in my hand and avoid looking in his direction. Not that it matters. The heat radiating from my face could melt an iceberg. "I don't know why I said all that."
"Could it be because you meant it?" His question isn't cocky or sarcastic. Instead, there's a hint of uncertainty lacing his words, as if he wonders about the authenticity of my statements.
I pull my face from my hand and offer up a rueful smile. "How do I answer that without sounding like a crazed stalker?"
Another smile splits his face. Lord, but I'm in trouble with this man’s smile.
"I promise, I don't think you're a stalker or crazy." He squeezes my hand, that delicious dimple on full display. "It actually made my morning."
Even though I doubt the comely doctor much cares what I think of him—or his five o’clock shadow—I appreciate the camaraderie.
“Glad to be of service." I glance at my phone, noting the time. “This has been fun, but I have to get going."
"Are you sure you're not just running off?"
"Not at all. I have a legitimate excuse. I told my staff I’d drop by the wellness center this afternoon.”
Keegan shoots me a quizzical glance. “I didn’t realize you owned the center.”
“Six years now. It’s called Blissful Balance.”
His brows raise. Seems I've piqued the man’s interest. "Where is it?"
"A few blocks from here, up on Cheshire. I haven't been there in a while, and I figured it was about time to show my face. Proof of life, I suppose.”
"Getting back out in the world, Calli?" Keegan’s gaze holds mine, daring me to look away.
"Something like that. Baby steps. This was wonderful. Embarrassing and mortifying—for me at least—but wonderful all the same. Thank you, Keegan." I extend my hand, wondering if he feels the same tingle when his fingers grasp mine in a warm cocoon.
"I'd like to see your wellness center.”
"You should come by for a class or a treatment.”
“Or, I could walk with you now."
I blink, surprised by his unexpected offer. "Oh. Okay. That would be nice.”
His phone rings, and I spy the name of the caller.
Megan.
Can’t forget about her.
But in a wholly unexpected move, Keegan silences the call and slides the phone into his pocket. Then he grabs our cups and tosses them in the trash, before motioning toward the front door. "After you. "
Maybe he’s not serious about the woman, after all.
And why does that information make me so damn happy?
After waiting an hour for us to finish our coffee, Domino is thrilled to be on the move again. She prances along, her tail held high, and takes a wee on everything that stands still long enough. So much for that being a male dog trait.
I regret that much of her puppyhood was spent confined to the yard, dealing with a mum who had no ambition to move beyond the garden gate.
"What kind of dog is Domino?" Keegan asks, sidestepping the pup as she loops between us.
"A mutt. But, I believe she's descended from royalty. That's the story I tell her, anyway."
"You Brits and your royal lines," Keegan ribs, dodging Domino once again.
"You know I'm British, but what are you?"
"Human? I'm half Irish and half Italian. Hence the name."
"Ah. Makes sense." I barely manage the last word as Domino succeeds in her quest to entangle us.
I lose my balance, but Keegan grabs me before I hit the ground, pulling me against him.
"Thanks," I mumble. My heart is pounding, and I can't be sure if it's from the near fall or Keegan's proximity. "Damn dog."
"She has an agenda," Keegan murmurs.
I'm steady on my feet now, but he has yet to release his grip. It's as though neither of us wants to retreat from this shared space. "She's been on a mission this entire stroll."
"I wonder what her end game is?"
"Hard to tell." My throat chokes out the words, as if all the energy in my body needs to focus on the racing of my heart.
"What's your end game, Calli?" His own voice is deeper, dripping over me and further heating up my already inflamed core .
"The better question is, what is yours?" I draw ever closer to him, my lids heavy, my gaze focused on his mouth. Those delicious lips that I'm craving more than oxygen.
The ring of his phone rattles us both, and I spring away from him, damn near tripping over Domino's leash in the process.
What am I doing? I almost kissed my doctor! I'm a married woman who almost kissed my doctor—who is also not single, I might add.
I'm losing my damn mind. That's got to be it.
Keegan glances at his phone before rolling his eyes.
Not hard to guess who’s on the other end of that call.
"You'd better go.”
Right back to your statuesque brunette with EEE breasts.
"She's relentless. Likely has some inane question or demand that can't wait a moment longer. Who am I kidding? They're all inane."
"Why are you with her?" I blurt out, shocked by my forthright question.
He shoves the phone back in his pocket, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Honestly? I don't know anymore. That sounds terrible, doesn’t it?”
“Brutally honest, to be sure. But, maybe you’re dating her because she’s beautiful and sexy. Maybe that’s enough for you. Maybe she fits the bill for what you need in your life.”
And maybe, I need to shut the hell up.
Seriously, who am I to give life advice? I’ve been a shut-in with a grief complex for the last twenty months, and now I’m suddenly swooning over a handsome, unattainable doctor and discovering an increasingly desperate need to get laid. How’s that for a plot twist?
If my words anger Keegan, he hides it well. He studies my face, considering my statements .
Then, he averts his gaze and nods. “I’ll stop by your wellness center soon. Maybe take a class."
Ah, we’ve downshifted into small talk. It’s for the best, really.
"That would be nice. Thank you for the coffee."
"Thank you for the company. It's been a long time since I've enjoyed chatting with someone this much."
"Me too." It's true. I adore Shawn and Suzanne, but there's something about Keegan.
Something enticing, delectable, and dangerous.
Dangerous for my heart, mostly.
I extend my hand, releasing a shocked gasp when Keegan pulls me into a hug.
For the first time in forever, I feel safe. In his arms, I feel at peace, even though there’s nothing presumptuous or risqué about the embrace.
Just pure, unadulterated comfort.
Okay, comfort mixed with a token dirty thought that this man’s body is far more beautiful sans clothing.
I told you I needed to get laid.
We part with a final grin, and I watch him stroll toward his vehicle. He has a grace about him that no doubt carries over into the bedroom.
Once again, I’m thinking about the man naked.
With a sigh, I tug Domino’s leash and turn in the direction of my center.
Time for some girl talk and a cold shower, although I know one thing for certain.
The Baby Maker will be making a dreamtime appearance tonight and this time, there won’t be any phone calls interrupting us.