could have pointed out that he’d have marched Ellie down the aisle on the day he’d first told her he loved her, on the day that she’d first told him she loved him.
He’d known he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. In the months that passed, he’d not changed his mind or his heart. The way he felt about Ellie just kept growing, getting stronger with each day that passed.
Ty and Harry joined the rest of the wedding party on the lawn of the Triple D. Row after row of white chairs were filled with Texans in their best Sunday duds and New Yorkers in the latest European fashions.
His father held Levi in the front row. Ty grinned at the tiny white Stetson that his dad had insisted the six- month-old wear. William fidgeted next to Harry, toying with the ring pillow he held.
The live band began to play the wedding march and all eyes, especially Ty’s, went to where Ellie rode up in a white carriage with crushed red velvet seats. Her beaming newly reelected to the Senate father stepped up to the carriage and assisted his lovely daughter down.
Ty’s breath caught at the beautiful woman who would officially become his during this ceremony. In reality, she’d been his from the moment they declared their love and he’d been hers.
He took in her long dark hair in a mass of curls about her neck and cascading down her back. Her gown was strapless and accented her beautiful curves and nipped- in waist. Never had a bride been more beautiful.
Never had a woman been more loved.
Her gaze met Ty’s and she smiled.
A smile that told him everything words never could convey.
A smile that told of a love that would last always and forever.
* * * * *
NYC Angels: Unmasking Dr Serious
Laura Iding
To the Thursday Morning Breakfast Club,
I value your support more than I can ever say.
“No-o-o-o!” JOSH WAILED, throwing his arms around the nanny’s neck when Dan tried to lift the boy off the sofa. “I want Gemma to take me!”
Dan Morris gnashed his teeth, his gut burning with guilt as Josh showed him once again how much he preferred the company of Gemma, the middle-aged woman who’d been caring for him the past six months, over that of his father. But with the ease of long practice he buried his true feelings and kept his tone soft as he gently prised Josh away from Gemma, lifting his small frame into his arms.
“It’s okay, Josh. Remember how I told you I’m going to be home with you for the next few weeks? We’re going to attend physical therapy together. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m going to be with you the whole time.”
Josh didn’t look too impressed with his vow but thankfully stopped struggling, leaning against his father’s chest as if willing to accept his fate. He’d stopped crying too, but the occasional loud sniffle was just as difficult to bear.
Dan tucked Josh into his booster seat in the backseat of the black BMW, buckling him securely into the harness before he himself slid into the driver’s seat, trying to think of a way to breach the chasm between them. He wanted Josh to know he was loved. Cherished. But how? Words alone hadn’t worked so far.
“Daddy, is therapy going to hurt?”
Helpless fury and guilt nearly choked him at his son’s innocent question. How many times had Josh asked him that same thing in the hospital? How many times had he been forced to answer yes? He cleared his throat and smiled at Josh, using the rearview mirror. “No, Josh, therapy isn’t going to hurt. The therapist will exercise your legs. There won’t be any needles, I promise.”
Josh settled back, seemingly reassured. Dan drove carefully through the busy Manhattan streets to the physiotherapy clinic located within the brick walls of Manhattan’s Angel Mendez Children’s Hospital, affectionately known as Angel’s, where his pediatric cardiothoracic surgery practice was located. He hoped physical therapist Molly Shriver was everything she’d been reported to be.
He’d wanted the best, demanded the best for his son. He couldn’t bear to think about the grim possibility that Josh might never walk again. If this Molly Shriver was half as good as her reputation heralded her to be, he was convinced she was the one who could make that happen.
He and Josh arrived ten minutes early because he despised being late. They’d barely settled into their seats in the waiting room when a young woman with bright green eyes and reddish-gold hair pulled back in a perky ponytail came out to greet them.
“Good morning,” she said, smiling brightly, her attention focused, rightly so, on Josh. Dan had stood when she’d entered the room, but Josh was obviously still seated in the waiting-room chair, wearing shorts and a T-shirt as requested. She knelt beside Josh so that her eyes were level with his. “You must be Josh Morris, although you look much older than seven. Are you sure you’re not eight or nine?” she asked, her voice full of doubt.
Josh giggled, and shook his head. “Nope. I’m seven but my birthday is in three weeks.”
“Oh, goody! I love birthdays! We’ll have a party to celebrate!” she exclaimed, making Josh giggle again. “And that must be why you look so much older. My name is Molly and I’m so happy you came in to see me today.”
Dan tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and watched, reluctantly impressed with how she’d immediately established a connection with his son. She seemed to know a lot about kids.
No doubt, far more than he did.
“We’re going to have lots of fun today, Josh,” Molly confided. She held out her hand to his son. “Are you ready to play some games with me?”
All evidence of his former tears gone, Josh nodded eagerly as he reached for her hand. Fearing that she didn’t realize his son couldn’t walk, Dan quickly swooped down to swing Josh into his arms. “We’re ready,” he said gruffly, sending her a dark look.
For a moment her gaze narrowed and her smile dimmed. “Did you leave Josh’s wheelchair out in the car?” she asked with feigned sweetness.
Just the thought of seeing his son confined to a wheelchair made him break out in a cold sweat. He could spend twelve hours in surgery, meticulously reconnecting coronary arteries and veins to repair tiny damaged hearts, but those hours he’d sat at his son’s hospital bedside after the car crash had been the longest, darkest hours of his life. “No,” he said bluntly. “Josh won’t need a wheelchair. He has me. And now he has you, to help him learn how to walk again.”
Her lips thinned and her smile faded even more. He thought she was going to pursue the issue, but instead she led the way through the doorway into another, much larger room. There were all kinds of exercise equipment scattered about, along with what appeared to be toys. Lots of toys, like brightly
