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384 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2010
Leigh saw her patient’s eyes move expectantly again to the exam room door. Hoping for a glimpse of her husband. Praying, perhaps, that the promises of love and fidelity made before God would be restored. Leigh knew how that felt. And she knew, too, that though this shattered woman had chosen to cooperate with having her stomach pumped, swallowing the truth was much, much harder. Even with vows . . . nothing lasts forever.
Sam glanced at Nick’s older-model black BMW, parked next to a trio of Vespa scooters. “Okay if I ride with you to Golden Gate Mercy?
He’d made it clear long ago that their brief affair last November had been a mistake, and they’d managed to settle into a casual, if awkward, friendship.
“I’m going there. That’s my job. And this was bound to happen sooner or later. Your work, mine, hers—they all intersect, you know?”
The same morning she’d finally meet Samantha Gordon—the reason she’d given up on their marriage.
Leigh nodded. Nick gave everything his best. Except our marriage.
From Nick, my broken marriage . . . and the miscarriage he knows nothing about.
He resisted the urge to look toward where Leigh sat on the bench, imagining how she’d react when he told her that the Child Crisis investigator standing in her ER was the woman he’d taken to bed in a grief-induced blur of confusion, anger, and pain after Toby was killed. It wasn’t going to be easy.
“I thought you did, Nick. I tried to believe it. But how can that ever happen with her around?” She looked over her shoulder toward the ER. “She was there when I drew that baby’s blood. I read her name badge: Samantha Gordon.” Caroline glanced toward Leigh. “This isn’t going to work. She’s leaving us both.”
Leigh had trusted Nick too, but it hadn’t worked out. And if she hadn’t had the miscarriage, she could have been a single mother herself.
“She’s as uncomfortable with this as you are.” “Uncomfortable?”
“Don’t. Don’t touch me, Nick; don’t try to talk to me. And don’t use that calm, rational, police officer voice to tell me that your lover is standing in my ER, and that she’s as uncomfortable as I am.”
But now, his guilt, his distance, the pain in his eyes . . . She glanced toward the doorway, at staff in scrubs in the distance. And at the female doctor in a white coat. She’s divorcing him. I can wait another week.
“My doctor’s last name is Stathos. Is she his wife?” “Yes,” Sam said, watching the white coat in the distance. Until next Friday.
Caroline gathered her long hair into one hand at the back of her head. “How’d you like to mediate between your wife and your mistress in the middle of a jam-packed emergency department?”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t know who to place bets on, my big sister or that sorry home wrecker, Samantha Gordon.”
“Being with me and my little daughter helps him.” She has a child? Leigh’s breath stuck.
Sam saw it and smiled. “Elisa’s three. Nick’s good with her. I’m sure you know how much a family means to him. Losing his mother the way he did, being raised in foster care—”
If Leigh had wanted Nick, she’d have taken him back. He’d tried so hard. Sam took a long swallow of the wine, remembering his gut-wrenching remorse. He’d told Leigh the truth immediately afterward, begged her forgiveness, asked the police chaplain to intervene when she wouldn’t accept his pleas.
His visits had been infrequent over the past year: brief stops to see Elisa, fix a faucet—nothing else. He’d made it clear he couldn’t offer more. But Sam wasn’t giving up.
Leigh gritted her teeth. Sam had passed through the ER just to do it. Purely territorial
Sam Gordon walking the floors of her ER, staking a claim on Nick for herself and her small child. Encroaching on the stable. And invading my dreams
“But if you’d feel more comfortable at Buzz’s . . .” Sam’s voice trailed off. “I’ll shower, then be at your place in half an hour.”
A shower. A kitchen. A daughter waiting for a story. Was he here because he wanted this? Or because he knew she did and what he needed was to be somewhere that he was wanted?
He held his breath, watching her violet eyes and noticing the faint flush on her cheeks, her parted lips, the warmth of having a woman in his arms again, and thinking how easy it would be to fall into this. Too easy. “I need you, Nick,” she whispered. “I want you here with me. I’m alone; you’re alone. It’s crazy for you to be sleeping on that couch at Buzz’s.” She startled and then frowned as his cell phone rang.
And Sam had been giving and warm, and very, very smart. She’d seen his need and filled it, held Nick in his sorrow, watched him rail and curse and slam his fist against a wall. Then heard his tearful prayer when he thought she was sleeping. She took him in, lay in his arms, and now . . . he’s back with her.
“And how would I believe you, Nick? How would I trust anything—anything—you had to say?”
“And what about Sam?” “What about her?” “She’s around. She’s everywhere.” Her body tensed.
Like a woman dressing for a date. With my husband.
“You’ve seen Nick since the shooting?” “Yes . . .” Riley paused, as if considering her words. “He was in with Sam Gordon.”
“I can’t really discuss his condition.” “I’m not asking you to,” Sam said, gasping against an apparent stab of pain. “Nick will tell me what I want to know.”
His critically injured lover had nailed it: Leigh hadn’t wanted to treat her. The truth was that she’d asked Bartle to take over because, in the confusing and chaotic moment that Sam was rushed, bleeding and helpless, into the ER, Leigh had remembered: I killed her in my dreams again last night. The memory had horrified her. A doctor dreaming of murder—how could that be?
“It means,” she said, pulling her hand away, “that Sam needs you. And things are going to stay very complicated. It’s good we didn’t make the mistake of fooling ourselves into something that can never be.”
OW“I love you,” she blurted. “I wasn’t going to tell you yet, but in case something goes wrong . . .” Her heart sank at the immediate discomfort in his eyes.
She refused to accept that Nick had whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t stand there and pretend that everyone doesn’t look at me and see one thing: the tramp who broke up Dr. Stathos’s marriage.”
“You went after him.” Leigh gripped the arms of the chair, felt her face sting. “Don’t deny it. You took advantage of Nick when he was in shock, grieving his best friend.” She caught the change in Sam’s expression.
Nick hadn’t stayed more than twenty minutes yesterday.
He’d patted the top of her head the same way he did Elisa’s. As if she’d never said she loved him. As if they hadn’t made love, fallen asleep in each other’s arms in those long, gray days after Toby died.
You slept with my husband, and now it’s my fault?
“He’s crazy about my baby girl,” Sam said. “And that’s what I’ll give Nick that you can’t. That you wouldn’t.” Her frosty eyes pinned Leigh. “A family. Children. You know how much he wants that.”
“And everything I suffered because of you. What your ugly intrusion into my life cost me.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, knowing she was about to say words she’d never spoken aloud before. “I was pregnant. . . . I was carrying Nick’s baby. I miscarried after I found out about you, and—” She stood up so quickly that the chair tipped over. She tried to breathe, felt it stick in her chest as a wave of anger and pain rose with suffocating ferocity. I hate her, hate her. It’s all her fault.
“Before I could come to grips with it, Nick’s best friend was killed and then Sam was in the picture.” Leigh shredded the Kleenex. “While I was struggling to deal with that, I had a miscarriage.” “So many losses, so fast.”
Sam’s lips pressed together. “I called her here to gloat over something I’d done to destroy her marriage—stick it to her one last