doubled as a storage bench, with a cup of tea, and thought about Wesley. His situation broke her heart and she’d proved it with her meltdown on his doorstep earlier. He’d always been her hero, the guy with the world at his fingertips. The Prince of Westwood! Invincible. He’d made her want to be better than who she was, to build a dream then follow it to the end. Because of him, she’d pursued a doctorate after her post-graduate P.T. degree. She took a sip of hot black tea, thinking of his intelligent eyes, hers welling up again as her heart pinched.
The man might be considered disabled by everyday standards, but he was also a skilled neurosurgeon, and the world still needed him. She couldn’t allow him to hide away in his gym day in and day out.
It seemed he had to relearn how to be himself. The confident, outgoing guy he used to be. That was a task far beyond her physical therapist’s pay scale. All she could hope was for their once shared friendship and mutual respect to pull him back to what he’d been before the accident. Not the gym rat he’d become. Didn’t he know that true strength came from inside, not from muscles?
Her phone rang. It was Alexandra. “How’d things go?”
“A little rocky at first, but he’s agreed to let me stay for now.”
“How does he look?”
Great! Sexy as ever. “Determined, and obviously buffer than I’ve ever seen him.”
“If anyone can get through to him, I know you can.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Promise?” Mommy! Mommy! Mary heard children’s voices in the background. With three kids, Alexandra never seemed to make it through a phone call without interruption.
“Promise.”
“I’m going to have to cut things short.”
“I understand. I’ll keep you posted. Give those kids a hug from me, and two for Rosebud, okay?”
“Can you believe little Rose is one now?”
“Unreal.” She’d missed her birthday from being out of state, but had seen videos, and had also had face time with her on the computer when little Rosebud had opened the gift she’d sent—a small rocking horse that talked to the rider. Rose had loved it and the grin on her face when she’d opened the package had managed to wrap around Mary’s heart and change her life forever.
They hung up, and Mary remembered the day she’d first held Rose when she was less than a week old. The tiny bundle, completely helpless, had still managed to get her needs across with grunts and stretches, cries and flailing pink spindly arms. And the newborn had felt more amazing than anything Mary had ever held in her life.
Her education and traveling had kept her away from the births of Alexandra’s first two children, Oliver and Bailey. But she’d been given the honor of becoming Rose’s godmother so she couldn’t very well miss out on meeting her right off. That meet and greet had changed her life.
A loving warmth fanned over her skin as she remembered how deeply she’d been moved by holding her goddaughter. How the tiny baby had reached into her heart and planted a need she’d never dared to dream of before.
As she stared out of the two decent-sized windows of her tiny home, looking out toward the beach, she thought of her own situation. She was at a crossroads in life and, at nearly thirty-four, she finally admitted what she really wanted. More than anything. A child.
It was little Rosebud’s fault. And Matthew’s, the sturdy little six-month-old she’d held just last week. Her patient, his mother, had been instructed to do some exercises and the baby had needed to be held. Mary had thought nothing of helping out until the sturdy boy with those chubby dimpled hands, two chins and a Buddha belly had looked into her eyes and squealed with joy. She’d never wanted to cuddle, squeeze and kiss a baby more in her life. Oh, yeah, she wanted one.
Now she dreamed of having a child. Illogical, yes, with no man in her life. Living completely without roots. An inconsistent job that took her all over the country. Yet she’d finally heeded the whisperings of her body that had been building for years, and with the recent help of two little ones, that whisper had turned into a scream. She wanted to be a mother more than anything. To have a baby all her own...before it was too late.
Finishing off her tea, she stood and walked the few short feet to her kitchen sink. How exactly did a woman go about such a task on her own?
She glanced at the mansion up the walk, which may as well be a prison for its current purpose of shutting out the world for Wesley Van Allen, M.D. Then she put her yearning for a baby aside. Wes needed to be her first priority for now.
She was adamant about setting a time limit with him, though. Two months. Tops. She’d allowed for the lapse in a paying job into her annual budget for exactly that amount of time. If she intended to pursue her dream of having a child on her own, she’d need to change jobs to one where she could settle down in one place in order to be a stable parent. It was her chance to provide for her baby what she’d never had herself. Permanence, unconditional love, protection and opportunity. And, father or no father, she wanted it with all of her might.
She washed her teacup, deciding to take a walk on the gloriously beautiful beach. Maybe when she got back she’d crack open that bottle of wine she’d been saving, sit on her cozy front porch, have a toast to her latest post, and lift a glass to her future plans. Truth was, she could spend the entire evening daydreaming about becoming a mother, but...
Right now, her long-ago—but never forgotten—first crush had to come first.
THE NEXT MORNING, Rita met Mary at the door and escorted her as far as the stairs, which Mary took two at a time, priming herself for a fight when she reached the gym. Instead, she found Wesley dressed, freshly shaved, and with his hair tied up, waiting for her. Surprise.
“This is a change.” She smiled, entering the workout room, but Wesley, dressed in a black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, didn’t exactly return it. At least he didn’t scowl.
“The sooner we get on with this, the sooner...” He stopped himself.
But she had a hunch what he’d planned on saying was, the sooner you’ll be gone. “Two months. Remember? Give me two months and you’ll be a different man.”
Now came the deadpan stare. “I already am a different man.”
She refused to take the bait. “You may be buffer than I ever remember, but there’s more work to be done, though the outcome will be less obvious...” she held up her index finger “...but necessary.” Without giving him a moment to protest, she grabbed a stool on wheels by the nearby wall in his top-of-the-line equipped gym and rolled over to his wheelchair. “I need to do a complete evaluation of your muscles and reflexes.”
He pulled in his chin and his brows pushed down.
“You didn’t think I was going to start you on exercises without first evaluating your motor and sensory status, did you?” From her large shoulder bag she pulled out a multi-paged form. “Let’s get started.”
“I’ve already been through this.”
She’d
