can’t believe you haven’t figured all this out already.” Conor looked from Jill to Beth, then back. “She’ll be coming back tomorrow to get the cast off, right? And what about the dogs? Plus, your sister’s work schedule is almost as bad as mine, so how can you count on her to get here soon?”
“You know, I appreciate your concern, but frankly I don’t see how this is any of your business,” Jill said, her chin jutting out with that mulish look he was all too familiar with. At the same time he could see plain as day that she felt anxious about how she was going to manage everything post-op. “The dogs and I will be okay.”
“Considering you’ve seen hundreds of patients, and know how they feel the day the cast comes off and you work with them to make a splint, I’m pretty sure you know how much pain you’ll likely be in. How completely non-functional your arm and hand will be at first. Hudson’s a big lug—not to mention there’s no way you can take them outside for a walk. Not for quite a while—until your bones and the titanium plate and screws have fused. If you fall again before that happens it could be a disaster.”
“I won’t fall. And there are dog-walking services, you know,” Jill said. “I... I didn’t think to look one up before surgery, but I’m sure I can find one. And, like I said, Briana is coming as soon as she can.”
“Let me check to see if there’s a nurse or one of the office staff who wouldn’t mind making some cash by helping you tonight and bringing you back tomorrow. Walking the dogs, too,” Beth said, looking from him to Jill, then back. “Meanwhile, we have to get you into twilight sleep and to the OR—or the whole day’s schedule will be messed up, which nobody wants.”
Obviously Beth’s calm tone was designed to keep Conor from getting upset about this, but it wasn’t working. Jillian might not be his anymore, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still care about her. Wouldn’t worry about her.
“I have a light surgery schedule this morning, so I can take you home,” he said. “Though I do have a—”
Abruptly, he closed his mouth. He’d almost followed his comment about taking her home by telling her he had an appointment at one o’clock with some of the decision-makers from Urgent Care Manhattan, to go over the details of the potential collaboration with HOAC. Telling her that he’d take her home when the meeting was over. But his work and business schedules had been part of the reason why she’d left and how badly he’d failed her.
But this was an emergency, damn it. Much as he hated any delay in getting the deal closed, his competitor shut out and the urgent care department up and running, he’d just have to reschedule the meeting.
“I’ll come to Recovery as soon as I’m done with my last surgery and I’ll take you home. Get you settled.”
“Conor, no.” Despite her obvious need, her beautiful eyes widened in clear dismay. “I—”
“Perfect,” Beth interrupted cheerfully. “I’ll meet you in Recovery. And now, Jill, it’s time for Dr. Fixit to fix you up.”
Jillian opened her pretty lips to protest more, which tightened his chest. Was it really that horrifying for her to have to spend a few hours with him?
Conor watched the anesthesiologist administer twilight anesthesia through Jill’s IV. Her long lashes swept her cheeks as her lids slid closed, and he forced himself to turn away from her beautiful face in sweet repose. She looked very much as she had back when he’d held her in his arms every night as she fell asleep.
Damn. That ache pressed in on his chest again, but at the same time his heart strangely, bizarrely, lifted. He was going to get to be with her this evening for the first time in nearly a year. Drugged up and in pain, she wouldn’t be like the smiling Jillian he’d loved. But knowing that she needed help, that he could be there for her at least for a few hours, made him feel better than he’d felt in a long time.
And never mind that the hollow loneliness he knew he’d experience when he went back to his regular life without her in it might feel every bit as bad as when she’d first left.
CONOR DOUBLE-PARKED IN the loading zone outside Jillian’s apartment building and prayed he wouldn’t get a ticket—or, worse, towed. Presumably it wouldn’t take long to get her into her apartment and comfortable, and he could get the car to the parking garage down the street after that.
He jumped out of the car and ran around to open the passenger door. “Okay, I know you’re still feeling weak and weird, so I’m going to hold you up in case your legs feel wobbly.”
Her eyes blinked up at him and she nodded. He reached into the car to place his hands around her waist, pretty much lifting her out of the seat—which wasn’t easy, considering she couldn’t help much and he was worried about jostling her arm. Not that he needed to be concerned that he’d hurt her. It was covered in a cast and an elastic cover and would stay totally numb from the nerve-block for at least twelve hours.
“You’re doing great,” he said as she walked slowly beside him to the front doors of the building, keeping his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her steady.
Thank God he’d had the foresight to get her keys before they got out of the car. It would have been a serious juggling match trying to get them out of the pocket of the jacket he’d draped over her shoulders without her falling down right there on the concrete steps.
Once they were in the building, maneuvering her to her apartment wasn’t difficult. He’d only been there once—the day he’d brought the dogs over to live with her after she’d moved out—but he remembered exactly where it was. Had often pictured her there when he was lying in bed at night. Wondering how she was doing. Wishing he was a different kind of man. Wishing things could have gone differently for them. Wishing she hadn’t stubbornly refused any money from him so she could live in a bigger place. He had hoped she was happier now, even as the thought of her being happy with someone else tore him up inside.
The moment he unlocked her door he heard the dogs running across the hardwood floor. Worried that Hudson might accidentally knock her over in her current wobbly state, he turned her sideways and put his body in between them as a buffer, reaching to scratch the dog’s head.
“Sit, Hudson. That’s a good dog. Good boy.”
It tugged at his heart that the dog obviously remembered him, whining and thrashing his tail back and forth so hard his hind end went along with it. Yorkie leaped up and down on his short legs, too, equally excited to see him.
Damn it. Letting down Jillian had been the worst, but the dogs’ happy greeting reminded him he’d let them down, too. She’d wanted them to have dogs and he’d gone along with it. Had wanted her to be happy. Wanted to know what it would be like to live a completely different kind of life from the one he’d grown up in. To love someone who loved you back and have a family that was always there for one another.
Instead he’d turned out to be a bad husband and bad dog dad, incapable of giving any of them what they needed. Thank God they hadn’t had children for him to hurt, too. He’d failed at being there for his mother the way he should have been, and he had failed at being there for Jillian.
That dismal reality had shown him that the focus of his life had to be only on what he was
