Chapter 9
Sydney
“Sydney, you have a nice man here to see you,” our receptionist Beatrice’s sweet voice lilts over the phone like butter on a biscuit. Heck, I’m starting to sound like Carol Ann. I giggle to myself. As my mind dares to consider who could be in reception, my heart skips a beat.
Is he here?
Looking at my watch, I realize it’s my usual lunch hour. Normally, I’d head to the cafeteria, grab a salad, and sit in the atrium listening to my Italian language app. I haven’t made it far in my lessons, but I’m excited to finally master the language.
Standing from my chair, I swipe my hands down my dress nervously before heading to the waiting room. If it’s him, I should be bracing myself for an argument, not trying to look my best. Shaking my head at my preposterous behavior, I have to wonder what’s gotten into me. Why on earth would I think my ex-husband would be visiting me here? And why does the possibility have my heart racing in anticipation instead of dread?
As I approach the counter, my eyes connect with the handsome man in front of me, and I deflate faster than a bald tire on a highway baked by the summer sun.
Geez. What is wrong with me?
“Sam?”
It’s obvious my lackluster response isn’t lost on him. “Hi, Sydney. Sorry to interrupt your day. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Sure. Come on back.”
Following me down the hallway, I open my office door for him and move to sit at my desk. He places a white paper sack down in front of me. “I felt like I owed you a meal.”
Retrieving the takeout container from the bag, I note a Buckhead’s sticker on the side of the box. “Wow. Really?” I force a smile.
“It’s the least I could do to apologize for running out on you.” Sam lowers himself to a chair across from my desk. I can’t help but wonder if he’s here for a second try at this. My stomach suddenly starts to churn. And not in a good way.
“Sam, I…” I pause, trying to find the right words. “I’m not sure—”
“Sydney.” He holds his hands up as if surrendering to the enemy. “Trust me, I’m not looking to repeat the other night. You’re an incredible woman. I meant everything I said. But your husband is scary as fuck. I joined a dating app to avoid that nonsense.”
“Ex-husband.” My recent conversation with Carol Ann over breakfast comes to mind. Exactly what nonsense has he encountered? “You really didn’t need to do this.”
“Yes, he did.”
Sam lets out a screech in response to the voice behind him.
“Did you just squeal, Lee?”
“What the hell, Broadie?”
My eyes flick up to my surgical partner and friend, Dr. Broadie Weston. “You two know each other?”
“Sebastian said he was sending him over to make amends for his immature behavior the other night,” Broadie adds. “Buckhead’s. Not bad.”
“Right?” Sam responds.
“Sebastian? Wait. The hand surgeon? Dr. Sebastian Lee is your brother?”
Sam smirks. “I got the brawn, and he got the brains.”
“Well, you’re half right, anyway.”
Another high-pitch squeak escapes Sam’s lips at his brother’s interruption. I can’t help but laugh out loud this time.
“Boy, you’re jumpy.” Sebastian chuckles. Observing the brothers’ side-by-side is fascinating. While Sam doesn’t appear to be much younger, his maturity level is noticeably different.
Sebastian Lee is one of the most poised, accomplished surgeons I’ve ever known. He’s since left the medical field, focusing on his family and the arts. But for years, he was widely regarded as the top reconstructive hand specialist in his field. He and Sam are of similar build, both lean but muscular, both with dark hair and deep blue eyes. But where Sebastian carries a confidence unmatched by anyone else in the room, Sam resembles an overly cocky but easily frightened puppy.
“Very funny, asshole. What are you doing here?”
“Just making sure you did the right thing.”
“Listen, I appreciate all of this. But Sam doesn’t owe me anything. It wasn’t his fault my crazy ex stormed into the restaurant like that.”
“See!” Sam bellows as he turns to face his brother, as if making his case. “Thank you, Sydney.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. What’s it going to take for you to grow up?” Sebastian goads.
“Honestly. You weren’t there. My ex was ridiculous. This isn’t on Sam.”
“Well, I think you’re giving him too much credit. He should’ve stayed to make sure you were okay.”
My eyes connect with his brother, and he gives me a curt nod of agreement before coming to his feet. “I really am sorry, Sydney.” He gives me a lopsided grin before heading to the door. “Take care of yourself.”
I watch as the three men file out of my office and slump back in my chair at the unexpected visit. “Small towns,” I mumble to myself, laughing.
Peeling back the lid of the to-go box, I inhale the aroma of the still warm steak and asparagus within. Licking my lower lip, I excitedly open my plastic silverware packet to dig in to my food. Groaning as the buttery filet hits my tongue, I close my eyes and enjoy this out of the ordinary luxurious lunchtime meal.
Reaching for my cell phone, I bring up my Italian language app. While Matteo always spoke fondly of his native country, he had no interest in returning to Italy. I’d been so busy building my career, I hadn’t had the opportunity to travel internationally as an adult. But Italy had long been on my bucket list. And I wasn’t letting my husband’s past keep me from going there. Between the food, the language, the culture, and my desire to take in all of the sights, I decided when the time finally presented itself, I no longer wanted to be reliant on others to translate for me.
As the recording on the app enunciates various Italian words, I recall Matteo using in the company of Luigi and his family, my mind wanders to how sexy I used to find it. I hadn’t the first clue what he was saying, but the Italian would roll off of his tongue and cause a stirring in my lower belly. When he’d slip into his native tongue during sex, it was like pressing a remote control on my thighs.
Hate him or not for what he’s put me through, his sexy Italian words live rent free in my mind. Not to mention coming in handy when I need a little help with self-care. Because nothing can get me to the finish line like Matteo and his sweet and spicy Italian dirty talk.