CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Thursday, April 27
Amy
Spring break would be the death of her, Amy mused as she scrubbed her fingernails beneath the rushing tap. Her shift had ended six hours before, but as she was bracing to leave, the ER had exploded with activity. The patient fated to meet her was wheeled in. Golf cart accident. Blunt-force trauma to the chest. Six hours of saving him from his own drunken stupidity. Another win.
Amy’s body had adapted to layers of exhaustion, but she was near delirium when she stepped into her warm kitchen that evening to a waft of roasted potatoes. “Dinner’s almost ready,” Andrew said in that way of his, soothing her worries. He planted a kiss on her forehead, and she devoured the meal he’d made. She was foolish to think it had been Andrew’s car at Lombardi’s Steakhouse that rainy night. This was the man she loved, nurturing and gentle.
She set her fork on her clean plate. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been so ravenously hungry. “My schedule might get more intense over the next few months. They’re shifting some people around.” She dabbed her lips with a napkin.
Andrew frowned. “You’re already working seventy hours a week, maybe more.” Then a shift in his expression, and he lifted his iced tea. “But if you can handle it, I’ll hold down the fort, no problem.”
Andrew’s adaptability was one of his sexiest qualities. Yes, he’d make an excellent father. Beneath the table, Amy smoothed her shirt over the physical evidence of her own secrets.
At first, the bruises were tender, but after a few days they faded to a dull, sick yellow. Earlier that week, when she was in the shower, Andrew had cracked the bathroom door, and her heart had skipped. He’d loved to meet her there, their mouths on each other before he lifted her against the tile. What would he say about the bruises? But he’d just quipped, “Need the floss,” and closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the steamy space, relieved and disappointed.
“How are things at work since you turned down the promotion?” She hadn’t brought it up since their fight, but maybe it was time to clear the air. Andrew’s shrug was resigned, but his face remained smooth. Maybe he’d let it go after all. Andrew was a natural caregiver. Ultimately, she could picture him finding fulfillment in their home. She saw him throwing a football in the backyard with a boy who shared his sandy-blond hair, and smiled.
At work Amy sipped the bitter teas made from the strange herbs she’d bought, swallowed the large tablets, mixed powder into her smoothies, and tried not to feel guilty about her secrecy. It would all be worth it.
That night, after Andrew brushed his teeth and slipped in the bed beside her, he leaned to peck her good night. The kiss deepened, and then he was leaning into her, his strong body, the man she remembered. The man she craved. Amy clicked the light off before she pulled her shirt over her head and thought, See? Everything is going to turn out beautifully.