him aside after rounds.
“What’s with you, Noah?” Jill Marshall asked. “I’ve known you since the first day you set foot in this hospital, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen you be abrupt with a patient.” She gave him a long look, then added, “Ray Simpson.”
He regarded her with dismay and went over his conversation with Ray in his head. He winced when he realized she was right. He’d practically cut the man off in midsentence.
“I’ll go back in there and apologize,” he said at once. “I have a lot on my mind, but I shouldn’t be taking it out on a patient.”
“It must be pretty serious,” she said, regarding him worriedly. “How about a cup of coffee instead? I’m a good listener. Maybe you should get this off your chest before you tick off another patient. You can go back to see Mr. Simpson afterward. He’s in traction. He isn’t going anywhere.”
Since Jill was in her fifties and had been a head nurse long before he’d turned up at the hospital as a green intern, Noah knew the offer was well-meant. She might treat the physicians with the utmost respect, but she mothered the med students, interns and even the residents. If anything other than Caitlyn’s pregnancy were on his mind, he’d accept her offer eagerly. She’d proven herself to be a good sounding board on many occasions.
“I could probably use the coffee,” he admitted. “But can we skip the heart-to-heart?”
She frowned at that. “How am I supposed to help if you won’t tell me what’s worrying you?”
“Just knowing you care helps a lot,” he said.
She rolled her eyes at that, but led the way to the empty nurses’ lounge and poured them both cups of coffee strong enough to keep the most exhausted person on staff wide-awake and alert.
“I thought you took this weekend off so you and Caitlyn could have some time together,” she commented as she handed him his coffee.
Noah chuckled at her attempt at an innocent interrogation. “Something came up. She had to drive down to Chesapeake Shores to see her family.”
“And you didn’t want to go along? You had the time off, after all.”
“It wasn’t the right time,” he said.
She gave him a direct look. “Okay, I know I’m butting in here, but are the two of you serious or not?”
“We are,” he said a little too emphatically.
“Then I really don’t get it. Have you even met her family? They live practically up the street.”
“It’s a little farther away than that,” he responded, then sighed. “But I know what you mean. It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“I can’t explain it,” he admitted.
“Because she won’t explain it to you,” Jill guessed. “Noah, you know we all love Caitlyn to pieces. She’s going to be an incredible physician, every bit as talented as you. Personally, I think the two of you are perfect for each other. But if she’s holding you at arm’s length, whatever her reasons for it, maybe you need to think about moving on. It’s not normal for a woman supposedly in love to be deliberately keeping you away from her family.”
She allowed that to sink in, then added, “You’re an incredible man. I know a half-dozen women on staff who’d give their right arms to have you glance at them twice. Believe me, any one of them would be thrilled to drag you home to meet Mom and Dad.”
Noah appreciated what she was saying, but he wasn’t interested. “That’s very flattering, but Caitlyn’s the one for me.”
She held his gaze and asked gently, “But are you the one for her?”
“I am,” he said readily.
He had to be, he told himself. Especially now.
* * *
Caitlyn managed to get through dinner with her mother and Trace without giving anything away. She even played with her little half brother, Patrick Donovan Riley, for a few minutes before he went down for the night. Her last words as she tucked him in were, “Don’t you dare let Grandpa Mick insist on calling you Paddy, okay? It should be enough for Grandpa that your cousin Luke has an Irish pub called O’Brien’s right here in town. We don’t need to be obsessive about the whole Irish thing.”
“’Kay,” he mumbled sleepily as his eyes drifted shut.
She lingered in his room, trying to imagine herself with a child his age in a few years. How crazy would that be? And how on earth would it work if she were in some isolated part of the world? Would Noah insist that their child remain with him wherever he located and opened his practice? Was that one of the possibilities? Could she accept being separated from her child, even temporarily? And what about Noah? Could she live with being separated from him? Until now it had seemed a distant problem, one it would be years before she had to resolve. Now it was all too depressingly complicated with no obvious solutions, at least none she’d managed to come up with on her own.
When she got downstairs, she found her mother in the kitchen, putting the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.
“Where’s Trace?” Caitlyn asked.
“I told him we wanted some mother-daughter time,” Abby replied. “How about going for a walk? It’s a mild night for this time of year. After the endless winter we’ve had that dragged on through April, I can almost believe that spring is finally right around the corner.”
“It’s a little too dark for a walk on the beach,” Caitlyn responded, regretting that. She’d done some of her best thinking and planning on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay.
“We could walk along the road into town, burn off a few calories from that cake,” her mother suggested. “We could even grab a cup of coffee or shop. I imagine one or two of the stores are still open, even though most of them won’t start extending their hours for the summer season until Memorial Day weekend.”
Caitlyn smiled. Her mom had always loved shopping, a trait she shared with Grandma Megan. She’d been in heaven living in New York. There was no comparison in Chesapeake Shores certainly, even though the small downtown area was thriving.
“We can certainly window-shop at least,” Caitlyn agreed. “No more food, that’s for sure. That cake is so rich I may not eat for the rest of the weekend.”
“You’ll eat at Grandpa Mick’s on Sunday,” her mother said. “Otherwise, you’ll never hear the end of it. He’ll lecture you on insulting Nell.”
“Don’t I know it,” Caitlyn said. “Besides, sometimes I actually crave Gram’s pot roast and her chicken and dumplings and her Irish stew.”
“Any preference for Sunday? I’m sure she’ll make whatever you ask her for.”
“Irish stew,” Caitlyn said at once. “I tried making it myself a couple of weeks ago. It was awful, and I know I followed the recipe you gave me.”
Her mom winced. “Maybe you
