One Night Only

Chapter 21

Annika

I cling to Dr. Cross, rooting each word he says deep inside me.

Still in shock that I decided to come back to him, to crack open the glassy cage of my fears at the last second. At least I know that stepping out of that intoxicating bubble that hotel room wove around us was necessary. That I can trust myself to deal with this in a healthy way.

It was the glinting road sign reading You’re leaving Oregon that did it. Suddenly, my fear of not telling him how I felt outweighed my fear of loving him. Like I was burning past the atmosphere of the universe we built together if I left the state and would never find it again.

Insane to consider the boundary of a city to be the sign I needed. But Portland has been good to me. I made friends here—kind, a little delusional, drifting-through-life-with-no-plans friends—who didn’t judge me, who simply held me through hard times, who loved me. I found my footing here, even if it was a hollow one, away from my overbearing family. I met Martha here, who reminded me how it feels to be loved without having to earn it.

Now, this precious city gave me Dr. Cross. But it didn’t say one night only—I did. And I refused to let the good streak that Portland has for me get ruined.

Zach’s totally justified in calling me bat-shit crazy because when we passed the sign, I screeched at the top of my lungs, begging Rahul to make a U-turn, to take an exit, to do something other than step over the state line into Washington.

I think I actually screamed something like Can’t leave my heart behind in Oregon, like some despondent, 90s rom-com heroine.

Now, as I drown myself in Dr. Cross’s scent and warmth, that stupid, hopeful heart’s still ringing in my ears. He’s going to move to Seattle. Maybe I can see him daily based on my class schedule. Maybe we can move in together. Maybe…

“Tell my mind and my heart to stop making outrageous plans,” I say, hiding my face in his chest.

“As I happen to adore both, I can’t.” Dr. Cross’s voice gentles. “No plans you make are outrageous, or unreasonable, or impossible. As long as they include me.”

“You’ve got the starring role,” I say, sighing.

“Good.” He strokes my back, cups my hips with that same desperation I feel. His lips are cool against the top of my cheek as he lays an open-mouthed kiss. “Come, let’s go visit Mom before your sentinels come back. She won’t forgive me if I let you leave without visiting with her.”

I don’t mean to react so visibly, but my shoulders tense. My fingers curl into his chest, as if he’s the anchor against the sudden tide of panic. I’m not ready to tell the world about us. Hell, I’m barely ready to admit this to myself.

And Martha…Martha’s one of the few people in the world who likes me as a person, who loves me. I can’t lose that. Not just yet.

Her son watches me like a hawk. Dr. Cross won’t push, doesn’t try to persuade me—not his style. But he’s waiting for an answer. If I say no, it feels like I’m already failing him. It would be the very first thing he’s asked of me, ever.

“She’s just had a fall and a surgery. Does she need more shocks?”

I expect a little flash of frustration. Instead, the sexy doctor smirks, surprising me yet again. It’s an expression I haven’t seen on his face in the eighteen hours we’ve known each other.

My heart fills with fresh wonder. There’s so much to learn about each other, so many things to discover together. And there’s that seed of faith budding deep in my core, saying I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.

I shove at his shoulder playfully and pout. “What’s with the smirk?”

“You’re cute when you try to be manipulative.”

I gasp and shove him harder. He falls back against the wall and pulls me with him. Our breaths punch out together, and, inevitably, our lips meet again.

Too soon, he pulls away and huffs out a rough breath. Tipping onto my toes, I press closer and grind my hips against the thick stiffness branding my flesh. He clasps my nape in a rough grip. “Stop tormenting me, rainbow girl.”

“Tell me then.”

“My mother’s a sixty-seven-year-old woman who raised me alone, after the chump who got her pregnant ran out on her. She put me through med school. She managed all of Aunt Marion’s affairs for years when she lost lucidity. Even after she lost her sight, she refused to let it dampen her spirit.” He rubs his nose against mine, and the affection in the gesture floors me.

It’s like I’ve spent all my life walking through a desert, and now I’m suddenly drenched in soul-renewing rain.

“She’s never asked me to earn prestige or success or millions.” There’s a stark vulnerability peeking through his gray eyes that makes me want to hold him close. “Only that I am happy.”

“That’s the Martha I love.”

He nods. “I wish I could claim that the happiest moment of my life was when Jonah was born. But I was exhausted and confused and worried as fuck about being a dad. As much as I would like to, I can’t rewrite it. Not even for him.”

I take his fingers in mine and lace them together. “From everything Martha told me, you’re fixing things with him. And from the very little I interacted with him,” which was mostly through goofy texts and funny memes, “he doesn’t resent you.”

“We’re working on our relationship every day. So please trust me when I say that this one night with you has made me happier than I’ve ever been before. Mom will love you even more for that.”

I swallow hard, forcing a nod.

He’s right, I remind myself. Martha’s the sweetest, kindest woman I know. My childhood nanny, Shanti Aunty, is right up there too. “Can it be my choice? How we tell her?”

“Always, Annika.”

I slip into love with him just a little more for understanding me so well. But it doesn’t stop the nerves knotting my stomach as we make our way to her private suite.

The scent of antiseptic and fresh linens meets my nostrils as we enter, but beneath it, there’s something distinctly Martha—her lavender lotion, the faint honeyed tea she always sips.

The sight of her, small but strong in the hospital bed, sends a wave of relief through me, easing the tight grip of worry I’ve been carrying since last night. Her leg is elevated, wrapped in a cast, and she’s propped up in bed. With her silver hair brushed back neatly, there’s a hint of color in her cheeks.

Her head tilts slightly, sensing us in the room, and then her entire expression brightens. “Annika, darling.” Her voice is warm, welcoming, as she reaches out a steady hand. “I’m so glad you dropped by. See, I told you, Ethan,” she says, smiling, “she wouldn’t leave without checking on me.”

“You did, Mom,” Dr. Cross says, watching me with a bemused gaze.

My legs carry me to Martha at the speed of lightning and I press my torso to hers, shocking her, no doubt. She’s thin but solid and the familiar lavender scent of her is a comfort. Her fingers are a little cold on my face, but her laughter is music. “I missed you too, Ani.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Martha. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there—”

“Oh hush, child. None of that.” Martha pats my cheek, then cups my shoulder. “It was an unfortunate accident. I won’t have you, or that stubborn son of mine, take on unnecessary guilt. You hear me, the both of you?”

I sniffle back tears and say, “Yes, Ma’am,” at the same time as Dr. Cross.

Martha laughs, then claps her hands to get my attention. “I know you have to leave soon, but tell me, how was your Valentine’s Day?”

I hesitate. My throat feels tight, my pulse erratic. I can feel Dr. Cross even more keenly beside me, solid and unwavering. He won’t push me on this, I know, and yet I feel the weight of his request anyway.

It’s when someone expects something from me—in deed or words or accomplishment or a particular quality—that I fail most spectacularly. There are stats that prove it.

Dr. Cross rubs the back of his hand against the back of mine surreptitiously. My gaze glides to his and there’s nothing but steady acceptance there.

“Annika?” Martha prompts, her fingers tightening slightly around mine. “Did something happen?”

I swallow and squeeze her hand. “Rahul and I broke up.”

“Thank God that’s over,” Martha says with a theatrical exhale. “Because I’ve found a hot nurse for you. And he could help you study, you know.” She taps her fingers against my wrist playfully, as if anyone could miss her meaning.

I laugh, but it sounds hollow to my own ears. Again, I’m hyperaware of Dr. Cross, of the way his body goes still beside me. Especially at the mention of the nurse she wants me to meet.

The weight of our stolen, reckless night presses against my ribs. And it hits me, in Martha’s bright presence, that I’ve been framing it all wrong in my head. I didn’t steal the night from anyone. Spending those hours with the most wonderful, considerate man I’ve ever met is not reckless.

This is my life and my happiness. What I do with him doesn’t hurt anyone. In fact, the idea of our not being together, I’m sure, will shatter us both.

I swallow hard, inhale deeply and squeeze Martha’s fingers. “Actually… I met someone.”

Martha pulls back, adjusts herself on the bed. Then she reaches out, her hand hovering slightly until I guide it back into mine. “Come here, darling,” she says, voice softer, more attuned.

In the periphery of my vision, I can see Dr. Cross frowning.

Martha fully takes my hand in hers, and she runs her fingers lightly over mine, her touch slow and careful, as if searching for something. Then she stills. “I noticed something different about you the moment you came close,” she murmurs. “But I assumed it was the drugs talking.”

I laugh, my heart overflowing at the warmth in her voice. She can’t see me but somehow, she knows. Like her son, she’s always been good at reading me. Accepting me. “Show off,” I say, and she bursts into laughter.

Her voice softens again, almost knowing. “There’s something lighter about you already. Which means he must be really good.”

I giggle while Dr. Cross stiffens.

Martha’s fingers trace my wrist. “Who is he? Does he live nearby? Because that means I will get to see more of you.” In one second, her voice turns thick with emotion. “I will miss you, darling. If Jonah wasn’t so madly in love with his girlfriend, I would totally set you two up—”

“What? Jonah is in love?” Dr. Cross interrupts, shock etched into the lines on his face.

“Yes,” Martha says with a broad smile. For a few seconds, I’m forgotten and I’m more than happy for the reprieve. “Last time I talked to him, he said he was planning to propose soon. Asked me if I had any family heirlooms for the big occasion. Apparently, the girl’s family’s quite influential and impressive. I said I have a plastic promise ring from when I was sixteen.” Martha cackles at her own joke.

“Oh.” Dr. Cross’s chin rears down, as if he’s taken an invisible hit.

My heart aches to hold him through the disappointment. And I promise myself right there that I would do everything I can to smooth things between them. Which is only possible when Dr. Cross tells Jonah about us. Given their relationship, it might not be for a while though.

But I draw hope from the fact that Jonah’s basically a decent guy, and he’s been putting the effort, along with Dr. Cross, on connecting better with each other. Martha’s recommendations aren’t easy to come by.

“Jonah’s never even asked me to meet her,” Dr. Cross says in a soft voice.

“Sophie met her. And she approves,” Martha says, making it sound like a miracle. “I figured the girl must be an angel and a unicorn all rolled into one, for your ex-wife to like her.”

“He told me it was serious but nothing more,” Dr. Cross says, stuck on Jonah not confiding in him.

“Give him time, Ethan. He confided that much in me because I threatened to write him out of my will if he stays a lifelong bachelor like you.” Martha blinks and reaches her hand back toward me. “I’m so sorry, Annika. I interrupted you, didn’t I? You and Jonah are two of my favorite people in the world.” Dr. Cross’s curse word rings in the silence and Martha laughs. “Tell me about this man you met. Although, I must insist on meeting him early on this time, Ani. We need to make sure he’s good enough for you. Right, Ethan?”

Dr. Cross sighs.

I don’t know whether to laugh or to run away from the room. Then my gaze lingers on the displeasure—whether to do with Jonah being in love or Martha talking about setting me up— in his eyes. And the one thing I do know is that I can give him a sliver of the happiness he gave me in one night, back.

Patting Martha’s hand, I squeeze it to get her attention. Before my courage deserts me again, I say, “It’s someone you know.” My voice wavers slightly, but I push forward. “In fact, I’ve heard you sing his praises for eleven months, and I must say, you were right about everything.”

Martha frowns slightly, then tilts her head in the direction of Dr. Cross, piecing it together already. Slowly, she reaches out toward where he stands. “Come closer, Ethan.”

He obeys, stepping forward until she can brush her fingers over his jaw. Her touch is searching, as if mapping out important details. Her voice dips into something softer, hushed. “What’s going on?”

I stiffen, every cell in me instantly triggered by terrible memories I tried very hard to run from. Her tone is curious rather than confrontational, but it doesn’t seem to matter to my nervous system. I just can’t bear it if another person is disappointed in me. If another person, especially Martha, thinks I’ve messed up. Again.

Moving closer, Dr. Cross wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his warmth. His touch is gentle, but firm—the exact combination I need—and I know it’s because he can feel the tremors in my body. He presses a soft kiss to my temple, lingering just long enough to ground me.

Then, he takes Martha’s hand in his and says, with quiet certainty, “All your prayers that I meet someone special have come true, Mom. I’ve fallen in love with this girl of yours.”

My heart expands, as if it might burst right out of my chest. I gaze at him, full of wonder. It’s the first time he speaks of his love for me, and I have a feeling he wanted to share it with Martha first. Which is why he asked me for this.

God, I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing him speak about me in that warm, wondrous tone.

Martha stiffens slightly, her breath catching. Then, to my shock, tears spill over her cheeks. Her fingers tighten around his. “What? When? How did this happen?”

Now, Dr. Cross blushes. I laugh at his sheepish expression and pat the back of Martha’s hand. “We met last night. In the waiting room. Then,” my voice shakes, but I forge on, “everything fell into place. Suddenly, the universe makes sense to me, Martha, for the first time in my life.”

“Oh,” she whispers, then reaches toward my voice, searching. “Are there two more wonderful, deserving people of love?” She laughs and wipes at her tears with a shaking hand. “I don’t think so! Come here, my darling Ani.”

Relief shakes me around like a ragdoll. I look at Dr. Cross, not to seek his permission, but to tell him he’s right. That little seed grows into a sapling as I kiss his cheek. “I love you,” I say, not loudly, but not quietly either.

His eyes shine and his throat bobs.

When I bend toward Martha, she cups my face in her cool hands, tracing my cheekbones as if committing them to memory. Then she kisses my cheek. “Welcome to the family, sweetheart.” Her thumb strokes my temple, her touch light but deliberate. “Clearly, you’re a witch, because you’ve made my workaholic, success-chasing son fall in love overnight.”

A laugh bubbles up through my throat, unexpected but loud.

Dr. Cross steps forward, pressing close behind me , and clasps Martha’s other hand. “I wish you the best in this new journey, my darlings. Oh, will you announce a wedding date soon?”

Panic comes for me in a chokehold, and I stare at him helplessly.

He smiles, shakes his head, and tweaks my nose. His voice is light, his gaze holding mine as he says, “Mom, stop scaring her, will you? This is too new, and we aren’t telling anyone but you.”

Martha scrunches her nose and pats my hand again. “Fine. I won’t pester you, just yet.”

I sigh in relief. After a few more questions where she tries to not be intrusive but fails, we let Martha rest.

The joy of telling Martha and the gift of her acceptance is transient though. Back in the corridor, the ticking of the clock is back on again. “I hate that I have to leave. I hate that…” I swallow and look away.

Dr. Cross clasps my cheek, thumb brushing just beneath my eye to catch the lone tear. “What?”

“I wish we didn’t have to deal with real life. Because I bet you anything, you will not get that,” I gesture toward Martha’s room, “with my family. They can barely stand me.”

“It’s okay, Ani. I have broad shoulders. I can take whatever your family throws at me.”

“I want them to love you as much as I do.”

He presses a kiss on my forehead. “All I need is you, sweetheart. And honestly, I won’t expect much from them until they make it up to you first.”

“Are you going to fight my battles for me, Dr. Cross?” I say, both elated and unsettled by the idea.

No one’s ever stood up for me. I’m not sure if I want that now, if I can afford to get used to it. But the resolve in his gaze tells me I’ll have to take one step toward him in this journey. Just one at a time.

He laughs and tugs me close. “No, baby. I’m going to be right behind you as you fight them and help you clean up the mess you make. Because I know what a chaotic, beautiful, bloodthirsty girl my love is.”

I look up, shaking. God, do I need more proof that he knows me well? “And yet you still want this?”

“Every day for the rest of our lives,” he says, conviction underlining each word.

I smile and nod, his promise slowly seeping into my skin, settling deep in my very marrow. Every day for the rest of our lives, I will know his warmth, his laughter, his kisses. And just like that, I’m the luckiest girl on the planet.

“Tell me you love me again,” I say, reaching for the lapels of his shirt.

Dr. Cross does one better and shows me with his kisses.

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