nearly ignored the call, but finally swung his feet to the side of the bed and stood, striding to the bathroom so as not to disturb Gabriella. “To what do I owe the honor, Alberto?”
“Unfortunately, I have bad news. Mother has had a heart attack, and you need to come home right away.”
GABBY DID HER best to focus on work but, despite repeatedly yanking her attention back to her job, she kept making silly mistakes. Thankfully none had been too important, but still. How often did she normally drop things? When was the last time she’d walked into the storage room before completely forgetting what she’d needed? It had happened twice already. And giving a patient still water when she’d asked for sparkling...? Never.
And she knew it was because Rafael and his family were weighing on her mind. When he’d told her he had to leave and why, he’d sounded very matter-of-fact, but she knew him now. Knew that behind that suave and confident exterior was a man with a sensitive heart who cared passionately for others. No matter what he’d said about his family, about his conviction that they were disappointed in him, that he’d let them down when he’d decided to take a different path than what they’d planned for him, she could see he wasn’t indifferent to it. That he cared about that more than he’d ever let on. And when she’d looked into his eyes after he’d told her his mother was ill, the calm mask on his face hadn’t concealed the worry in his eyes.
Of course he’d been worried. No matter what kind of relationship anyone had with their parents, they were still important. Still loved.
She stared, unseeing, at the tray of supplies in her hands. Love. Such a complicated and confusing thing. She’d been so sure she’d loved Ben, had made a baby with him and had been planning to marry him. But now? Now she knew the truth. That it had all just been easy. They’d dated, he’d seemed like a good, stable man, and when she’d gotten pregnant had figured it was time to get married. Wasn’t that what most people would have done?
But she’d never really loved him.
She knew that now. Knew because she was crazily in love with Rafael Moreno. Arrogant prince, excellent doctor, and tender lover. The knowledge balled her stomach, and her heart swelled at the same time it pinched tight. How had she let herself fall in love with the man? A notorious playboy, an international jet-setter who didn’t stay in one place very long, and a man who freely admitted he didn’t believe in forever-after love.
Truth was, though, she couldn’t blame herself. It hadn’t been a question of letting herself fall for him. It would have been like trying to stop an ocean wave as she swam in the Pacific, because Rafael was a force of nature every bit as mesmerizing and powerful.
She loved him. And when he’d kissed her goodbye, she’d known there was a good chance he might never be back.
The ball in her stomach rolled and her knuckles whitened on the tray, but she lifted her chin as she picked up her pace down the hallway. Somehow she had to focus on what she did best, which was work. It wasn’t Rafael’s fault she’d fallen so hard for him. If he called to report back about his mother, which he’d promised to do, she’d do everything in her ability to listen like a friend would and not let him know how much she missed him. How much she hoped he’d come back to L.A., but at the same time part of her hoped he wouldn’t.
The love, the connection she felt with him seemed huge and overwhelming and uncontrollable. But the thought of having a real relationship with someone again? Something more than the short fling she’d decided to allow herself with him? Just the idea of it scared her to death.
“Why do I even care, Freya?”
Gabby hesitated at the sound of Mila’s upset voice, not wanting to walk by the open lounge door while she was obviously having a personal conversation. “He already broke my heart once—shouldn’t that have been enough to make my feelings turn to stone where he’s concerned?”
“We can’t just turn our feelings on and off like a faucet, Mila,” Freya said in a soothing tone. “It’s okay to feel the way you do.”
“I mean, it almost seems like he’s flaunting his new girlfriend, doesn’t it? Like he’s deliberately waving her in my face to upset me.”
“I think James...well, he might be having his own struggles, Mila. He’s never been one to let emotions control him, you know? Maybe his behavior is some unconscious reaction to seeing you again. I don’t know what else to say, except you should tell him what you just told me and give him some time to think about it.”
Now tearful, Mila continued to talk, and Gabby pivoted, deciding to go back the other way so as not to embarrass her. Her already aching heart hurt a little more, feeling bad that Mila was so upset. Why did life have to be so hard? Why did love have to hurt?
Giving your heart to someone made you horribly vulnerable, she knew. So where, exactly, did that leave her when it came to Dr. Rafael Moreno?
* * *
Everyone walking the hospital hallways drifted toward the walls to leave an open path as Rafael strode through, murmuring to one another and bowing as he passed, and his lips twisted at the sure sign he was home. He’d grown up with that kind of deference. Hadn’t really even noticed it until he’d left the country. Now most people just saw him as a doctor, and it struck him how much he greatly preferred that to this kind of respect, based only on his birthright and not his accomplishments.
Something his parents and brother still didn’t understand.
He pressed his lips together and forged on until he got to his mother’s room. Then surprised himself when he had to stop outside it to inhale long calming breaths, fighting for composure. It wasn’t as though he didn’t practically live in hospitals. Between medical school and residency and working around the world, doing basic medicine and not the specialized obstetrics he did elsewhere, he’d seen thousands of sick people. Had seen plenty of them die. Had seen patients make miraculous recoveries too.
But none of them had been his mother.
Yes, she aggravated him, insulted him, berated him and lectured him. But she was still his mother and, damn it, he loved her. She’d been so angry about the recent press brouhaha and the various photos and lurid details, half of which had been made up, and he wasn’t proud of the things he’d said back to her when she’d scolded him about it. He couldn’t remember what they were, exactly, but he knew his words had hurt her feelings.
All that felt pretty unforgivable now that she was lying in a hospital bed in Intensive Care. Even though her heart attack had been fairly mild and the prognosis was good, he also knew things could go downhill fast.
Bracing himself, he forced his feet to go through the doorway. Then stood feeling slightly off balance at the end of the hospital bed, gripping the railing tight, because the pale woman hooked up to machines, with an I.V. in her arm and an oxygen hose in her nose, didn’t look like his mother at all. She looked a good ten years older than the last time he’d seen her, and in that very second he vowed to never let so much time go by again between visits.
He swallowed hard then looked past the scary things to the one thing that seemed normal and familiar. Her hair was remarkably well coiffed and tidy for someone lying in the ICU after a heart attack, and it helped him manage a smile. Yes, this woman was his mother after all. The vain queen of the land who was always perfect and
