Chapter 2
2
AMELIA
I stumbled into my hotel room, feeling like I’d just been run over by a truck.
My feet ached from the heels I’d been foolish enough to wear.
They were sexy and made me feel like I was invincible, but they killed my toes.
I wasn’t even sure my pinkie toes were still attached to my feet.
I looked down, flexing them and apologizing for the abuse they had been forced to endure.
My head spun from the whirlwind of the evening.
Meeting Jared Welch had been a dream of mine for years but not like that .
That was not the Jared Welch I thought I was going to be meeting.
Dropping down onto the bed, I leaned over to undo the buckle around each of my ankles.
Jared had been tipsy and leering, his ego so massive it practically filled the room.
I’d idolized him for so long—his groundbreaking work, his fearless approach to neurosurgery—but the man I’d just met was nothing like the compassionate pioneer I’d imagined.
“Never meet your idols,” I muttered.
I kicked off my shoes and shimmied out of my dress, struggling to get it over my hips.
Why did I think a body-con dress was a good idea?
I shook my head at myself as I finally freed my body from the fabric and tossed it onto the bed.
It felt like cutting the shrink wrap on those mattresses they sent through the mail.
They arrived no bigger than a book and exploded into a full bed.
I took a deep breath, appreciating the fact my chest could actually expand.
“Sorry, girls.” I plumped my breasts and was convinced the tight dress had actually reduced the size of my very ample lady lumps.
It would certainly make bra shopping easier, if that was the case.
I quickly changed into my pajamas, a soft set of cotton shorts and a tank top, and was about to collapse into bed when there was a knock at the door.
I froze. It was late.
I didn’t know a soul in Miami.
Who could possibly be knocking at this hour?
I tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole.
A woman around my age stood in the hallway, her dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail.
She looked harmless enough, but still, my heart raced.
“Who is it?” I called through the door, trying to sound braver than I felt.
“Clair Morgan,” the woman replied, her voice friendly.
“I work at Welch Labs. Shawn mentioned you were here, and I wanted to introduce myself.”
Shawn?
Welch Labs? My mind raced.
I hadn’t met anyone from the lab yet—I wasn’t even supposed to start for another week.
But if she worked there, maybe this was some kind of welcome committee.
Still, I hesitated before unlocking the door and opening it just a crack.
“Hi,” I said cautiously.
“I’m Amelia. But how did you know I was here?”
Clair smiled, showing all of her straight white teeth with a tiny gap between the front two.
Her smile made her cheeks round and rosy and crinkled the corners of her eyes.
I was immediately more at ease.
No psychopath could smile like that—right?
“Shawn—he’s one of the senior surgeons—mentioned that our new researcher was at the awards tonight. I didn’t see you there, so I thought I’d stop by and say hello. I hope that’s okay? I figured it was early enough in the evening that you wouldn’t be asleep yet.”
I opened the door wider, no longer worried she was here to steal my kidneys.
“Oh. Yeah, of course. Come in. Don’t mind me, I’m already in my pajamas.” I closed the door behind me and wrapped my arms over my chest, covering my braless titties.
Poor Clair didn’t need to get to know me that well just yet.
Clair brushed past me in an elegant royal blue dress that ended mid-calf.
Her heels were gold and sparkly and matched her accent jewelry.
She glanced around the room before her eyes landed on the dress crumpled on the bed.
My heels were tossed haphazardly and my purse hung over the back of the chair.
“Long night?” she asked with a knowing smile.
“You could say that,” I replied with a laugh.
“The price of beauty.”
She scrunched up her nose.
“I get it. My feet are killing me, and this push-up bra is threatening to drive my boobs straight up my nose.”
“I didn’t wear a bra. The dress was the bra. And the vise. I believe it’s a twist on some sort of medieval torture.”
“What did you think of the ceremony?” she asked.
“Did you get to meet any of the other staff?”
“It was… an experience.”
Clair chuckled.
“I can imagine. Those things are always a bit much. Too many egos in one room, if you ask me.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered, thinking of Jared Welch and his ridiculous advances.
“So, you work at the lab too?”
“I do,” Clair said, leaning against the desk.
“I’ve been there a while now. Mostly in oncology research, but I assist in surgeries when needed. It’s a great team, but it’ll be nice to have another woman around. It’s mostly men right now.”
“I can imagine,” I said, smiling faintly.
“I’m looking forward to starting. I just need to get settled in Key West first.”
Clair nodded.
“Yeah, Shawn mentioned you’re heading down tomorrow. I’ll be back at the lab in a week or so myself. I’m here for the awards and to visit my mom and dad. They live nearby.”
At the mention of “mom,” I felt a pang of regret.
My own mother was thousands of miles away, her memory fading a little more every day.
I pushed the thought aside and forced a smile.
“That’s nice. Family is important.”
“It is,” Clair agreed.
She glanced at her watch and sighed.
“I should probably get going. I’ve got an early surgery tomorrow, and I still need to prep.”
“Of course,” I said, walking her to the door.
“It was nice meeting you, Clair. Thank you for coming to see me. I appreciate that I’ll have a friendly face when I get to Welch Labs. I’ll see you soon?”
“Looking forward to it,” she said with a smile.
“Get some rest, Amelia. You’ve got a big week ahead.”
I closed the door behind her and leaned against it, letting out a long breath.
At least Clair’s kindness had cancelled out Jared’s obnoxious attitude.
But the mention of family had stirred up emotions I’d been trying to ignore.
I crossed the room and dug through my suitcase until I found the information packet about the memory care facility in Miami.
I’d been carrying it with me for weeks, ever since I’d made the decision to move to the States.
My mother’s condition had been deteriorating rapidly, and I’d been desperate to find a place that could give her the care she needed.
This facility had come highly recommended, but it was expensive—more than I could afford on my salary back in England.
Still, I’d been hopeful that the position at Welch Labs would change that.
I wanted to help her.
I thumbed through the pages of the brochure with a heavy heart.
The glossy photos of smiling residents and state-of-the-art facilities felt like a cruel joke.
How could I possibly afford this?
And even if I could, would it be enough to give my mother the life she deserved?
Would it change anything?
I tossed the packet onto the bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling.
My mind wandered back to the awards ceremony, to Jared Welch and his infuriating smirk.
I’d spent years idolizing him, reading every paper he’d published, following every breakthrough he’d made.
But the man I’d met tonight was nothing like the hero I’d imagined.
Was this really the man I’d uprooted my life for?
Was this really the dream I’d been chasing?
As I lay there, I thought about my mother’s face the last time I’d visited her in the care home.
She’d been sitting by the window, sunlight streaming in, but her eyes had been distant, unfocused.
She’d looked so small, so fragile, like she was already halfway to somewhere else.
I’d tried to talk to her, to tell her about the job in Florida, but she’d just smiled vaguely and said, “Your father always loved the sea.”
It broke my heart every time.
And yet, it was moments like those that fueled my determination to make a difference in neuroscience—to find a way to help people like her reclaim the pieces of themselves they’d lost.
Jared Welch crept back into my mind.
Despite his arrogance, there was no denying his brilliance.
His work had already changed countless lives.
Maybe there was something I could learn from him.
Or maybe he was just another obstacle to navigate.
Either way, I wasn’t about to let him derail me.
If I could use this job and his resources to help people, then nothing else mattered.
The next morning, at half past six, I woke to my phone buzzing on the nightstand.
With blurry eyes and a fuzzy head, I rolled over and swatted around trying to find my phone to silence my alarm.
When that failed, I realized it wasn’t my alarm but a notification.
I sat up groggily, unplugged my phone, and squinted at the glare coming off my screen.
I had an email from Welch Labs.
My stomach plummeted.
Had they changed their minds?
Was my dream job about to be pulled out from under me before it even started?
I opened the email with trembling fingers, my heart racing as I read the message.
It was short and to the point: my chartered flight to the lab had been rescheduled to later that evening to accommodate a few other passengers.
That was it. No explanation, no apology, just a cold, clinical update.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and flopped back onto the bed.
So, my job was safe—for now.
So was my mother’s placement at the care facility.
A delayed flight was no big deal.
Acutely aware of the fact that all these moving pieces were being held together by fate, which could betray me at any second, I got moving and ready for the day.
There was no sense lying in a dark hotel room waiting for my flight while the hours ticked by, even if that was what I was compelled to do.
In her earlier and clearer years, my mother would have told me to get out and explore—to see what the city had to offer before it was in my rear-view mirror.
I felt like I owed her that.
My shower perked me up, and by the time I’d dried my hair and got dressed, my stomach had started to rumble.
I wandered downstairs to the hotel restaurant, where a gangly server with giant glasses and an unruly head of hair brought me to a window table for one.
He handed me an obnoxiously large menu and rattled off the breakfast specials in a monotone voice that rivaled some of my medical school professors.
When he was done, he blinked expectantly at me.
“Are you ready to order?”
I looked from him to my menu, then back up at him.
“Um, I need a few minutes, please.”
He sighed.
“I’ll be back.”
Yikes.
Was this the kind of service I could expect in America?
A clearly stoned kid with lackluster enthusiasm and, I noticed as he walked away, a stain on the rear end of his pants?
God, I didn’t want to know what that was.
Feeling every bit the fish out of water that I was, I decided to order the eggs benedict, a classic American breakfast I’d heard plenty about but never tried.
When it arrived, I poked at the egg until golden yolk poured out onto the plate, and I took a delicate first bite, unsure what to expect.
My eyebrows lifted. “Not bad.” I took another bite.
“Not bad at all.”
Even if everything went belly up from then on, at least I could say I enjoyed a good American breakfast.
And that I’d met Jared Welch face to face.
Despite how much he’d rubbed me the wrong way, I couldn’t deny that he’d left an impression.
A bad one, admittedly, but an impression nonetheless.
His annoying smirk still played in my mind whenever I closed my eyes.
Dangerously brilliant, obnoxiously charming, and impossibly egotistical.
I couldn’t let him distract me from my work at Welch Labs.
This was my big break—and perhaps the big break for those who would benefit from the success of my research.
I owed it to them and to myself to stay focused.
Jared Welch was off limits.