The Doctor and the Naughty Girl (23 page)

But not this.

There was a divide now. Kate wouldn’t understand this, even if she said she did. Amity wasn’t even sure she understood it herself.

Kaitlyn put her palm over her phone, looking over at her. “Want me to see if Brandon will come down?” She pushed out her lower lip, seeing the loss Amity couldn’t hide anymore. “No? Okay, sweetie.” Kate reached across and squeezed Amity’s hand, then went back to her conversation.

You’re a good woman, Kate. Too bad I don’t deserve it.

Chapter Nineteen

“You sure this is the right place?” Dane watched the people packing the bar around him. Yes, there were mostly women, but there were more than a few men too. It didn’t seem any different.

“Jesus Christ,
you
straights.” Cathie shook her head, sipping from her beer. Her pale blue short-sleeved t-shirt revealed most of her toned upper arms, the thin fabric stretched tight over her breasts, showcasing a not inconsiderable amount of cleavage. “We aren’t all cigarette-chomping buzz-cut leather dykes, you know.”

Dane chuckled, hoping it didn’t sound as hollowed out as he felt.

“Why’d you drag me here, anyway? I get dumped—so you bring me to the one place on earth I’m
least
likely to get laid.”

“Don’t be so sure, smart guy.” Cathie glanced over her shoulder. “At least two of my bi friends knew you were coming tonight. You want, I’ll bring ‘em over.”

“Just the cure a man needs, Nurse Severin. Another gaggle of women who want to fuck me because I have an MD after my name. Brilliant.”

Cathie shrugged, tipping back her bottle. “You’re missing out—they’re total fucking
freaks
. You’d love ‘em.”

Someone began singing loudly at the bar, a chorus of others quickly joining in, their voices rising to a roar. Either they were too drunk to enunciate the words, or Dane was too buzzed to understand them.

Cathie looked over. “Fucking lushes.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I’d drink your narrow ass under the table any day of the week, boss.”

“Might not be boss for much longer,” Dane muttered, staring at the rim of his beer bottle.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cathie shoved his shoulder.

“Huh? Nothing. Forget it.”

You know what has to be done, Dane.

The people around him did help, at least a little—he didn’t feel like he had a spotlight on him anymore. And the fact that he was in a bar with virtually zero sexual energy directed toward him was, oddly, a relief.

Of course, it didn’t matter. The only sexual attention he cared about was from a girl who’d walked out on him. The girl he couldn’t stop thinking about. Her absence—it was a raw wound, a hurt that cut deeper than he was sure he could survive.

“I just—I can’t believe it. Yet another one run off.” Dane gestured toward himself. “Am I that bad? Am I that scary? Why does this keep fucking happening?”

“Oh, shut up,” Cathie said, her voice softer than her words. “Of course you don’t deserve this shit. Despite your many shortcomings, you’re a good man.”

Cathie looked away a moment. “As often as I wanted to put her through a wall, she grew on me after a while. She was good for you.”

“You’re doing just a world-class job cheering me up. You should get paid for this.” He lowered his voice in mock earnestness. “Ever think about taking up couples’ therapy?”

“Asshole.” But she winked at him, her gaze warm.

Pitching shit at each other was good. It was
normal
. He’d take all the normal he could get.

They drank in silence for a few minutes, people watching, Dane smiling to himself at the few ‘What the fuck is he doing here?’ looks he got from passing women. He tried to ignore the raised eyebrows and the shy smiles that said ‘What the fuck is she doing with
you?
’

“It’s gonna be fine,” Cathie said, finally, not yet looking at him. “When Leah… happened. I felt like the entire world had been yanked from under my feet. Like I was falling, and I’d keep falling. Forever.”

“I—I didn’t know, Cathie. I’m sorry. I thought you two made a great fucking couple.”

“We do, you know?” Her lips curved with unexpected happiness.

“
Do?
”

She shrugged, finishing off the bottle and looking around for a waitress. “Yeah, she… she called me a couple weeks ago.”

“And?”

“She agreed to come back.”‘

“That’s great!” He felt genuine joy for Cathie, even as the knife twisted deeper in his heart.

She touched his hand, her blue-eyed gaze meeting his. “Life—it sucks a lot of the time. It doesn’t work out the way we want it to—the way we plan it.” She squeezed his fingers gently, her skin warm. “But sometimes, in its own frustrating, fucked-up
messy
way, it leads you right where you need to go.”

Dane knew the truth though, the truth he’d learned the hard, agonizing way. The truth was that nothing made sense, that chance and fate were both cruel mistresses. And sometimes life… just didn’t. For some, the happy ending was a real thing, a wonderful thing.

For others, it was nothing but a cruel mirage.

Chapter Twenty

Monday had been a long day. It hadn’t helped that each time he’d walked out to the lobby, he’d seen Debbie, a prim, cheerful, and efficient temp, sitting at the lobby desk. He still missed seeing Amity’s big brown eyes peer up at him every time she saw him.

All morning he’d gotten more and more tense, waiting for that moment when he’d walk in, when the point of no return would arrive. The sonofabitch.

It was past four and still, nothing. Thankfully, the schedule had a lull so Dane retreated to his office, leaning back in his creaking chair and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He needed a drink.

His phone rang, and his heart was instantly jackhammering in his chest. He picked up the phone.

“Doctor, I tried to get him to wait while I called you but—he just walked back. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Debbie. Don’t worry about it. I was… kind of expecting him.”

Prick.

His door opened before he could hang up the phone. Chuck closed the door slowly, turning to Dane. The charcoal suit looked more expensive than Dane’s truck, the crease in the slacks so crisp they looked like they came straight off the dry cleaner’s rack. Chuck shoved his hands in his pockets, his gaze cool, neutral.

“Chuck. Have a seat.”

“I’ll stand, thanks.” Chuck reached into his suit coat, pulling out a folded set of papers, opening them, and spreading them on the desk. He laid a gold filigreed fountain pen down next to them.

“What’s this?”

“Please, Dane. We’ve just got this one detail to take care of. It’s a formality, yes? I know you’ve chosen the right thing here. Let’s get this past us.” Chuck’s lips quirked. “Good things come to smart men.”

Dane stared at the contract, at the gold gilding of the pen glinting under the lights.

He pulled the contract across the desk. Chuck straightened the cuff of his jacket, a victorious smirk on his face.

Dane remembered the pain he’d seen in Amity’s eyes as she sat there in her car, as she plunged the knife not just into him—but into herself. He knew then that her leaving hurt her just as much as it did him. And it wasn’t until that moment that it finally registered, that it hit home fully how much he missed her, how much he ached without her.

He slid the contract back across the desk.

Chuck froze, his eyes going to narrow slits. “Dane. Sign it.”

“I won’t be signing anything from you now—or ever. You’re not going to dictate to me—or your daughter—who we choose to see, or how we choose to live our lives. You may think you can control everything, but I assure you, you sure as hell can’t control me.”

Chuck strode to the desk, laying his hands on it, leaning over. “Sign the fucking contract, doctor. You don’t have a choice, and we both know it.”

Dane leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his back, belying the incredible tension strumming through his body. “I’m choosing to tell you no, Chuck. I think we’re done here.”

Chuck ripped the papers from his desk, stuffing them back into his suit. Dane loved seeing that practiced, arrogant facade crumble, revealing the ugly selfishness beneath. For all his power, Derrington was nothing but a child, nearing a tantrum for not getting his way.

The man’s face was beet red, his nostrils flaring like an enraged bull. “Last chance, doctor. Either you’re done with her—or you’re done working here.”

“I don’t recall seeing your name as director of this medical group, Chuck?” Dane stood, walking around his desk, stalking toward the door.

“That name doesn’t mean shit, doctor. The board is all that matters.”

Dane knew it of course, knew he was hanging himself here. He didn’t give a fuck anymore. All he did care about was her—the girl who’d left him, the girl who was everything to him, the girl he’d probably never see again.

He pulled the door open, swinging it wide, squeezing the handle to keep himself from putting a fist through Derrington’s ten thousand dollar veneers. Dane met his gaze, his voice dropping to a rumble. “I’ll see who I want, when I want, how I want. And what I want? What I’ll always want? It’s Amity. A woman who’s a far better person than you’ll ever be, who deserved a far better father than you’ve turned out to be. I love her—even if she doesn’t love me. Nothing you do or say is ever going to change that.”

Derrington’s lips drew back into an enraged rictus, his teeth gritted. “I know she left you. You’re torching your entire fucking career over a woman who doesn’t want you.”

Dane almost went after him at that, a murderous rage building within him, red at the edges of his vision. He knew it was bullshit—she hated her father. She wouldn’t have told him.

“You’re a liar, Chuckie.” Dane pointed out the door. “Now, get the fuck out of my office before I throw you out.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Dane threw the last box into the rear seat of his truck, pausing to look back at the building he no longer worked in. He was surprised they didn’t have security walk him out. He looked up at the cold, opaque sky, freezing cold drizzle beginning to fall.

It made sense though, he thought bitterly. He’d made the right choice—and just like with Steph, his girl had still walked away. Sometimes life didn’t have happy endings. The best he could ever hope for was bittersweet—minus the sweet.

“It’s the middle of the day. Where’re you going?”

He spun around. There, wrapped in a button-down wool coat, was Amity, looking as beautiful as he’d ever seen her, her dark hair falling over one shoulder, its luster swallowed up by the inky black of her coat, her soft pink lip caught between her white teeth.

“Why are you here? Didn’t you quit?” He winced at the bitterness in his voice.

“I did—and I’m not coming back.”

Of course not.

The girl didn’t feel anything for him, did she? He couldn’t blame her. This felt like gloating, like twisting the knife, and for the first time since he’d met Amity Derrington, he didn’t want to be around her right now. This just made things worse.

“Then why’d you come? Did you want to see if I still wanted you back? Am I that pathetic to you, Amity?”

The pinched look in her brown eyes said it all. That one had hit home.

“Dane, I—”

“As of this morning, I don’t work here anymore. Courtesy of your father.”

“I know. He told me.”

Dane pointed back at the building. “If you think you can just come down here and—what?”

She stepped closer, lowering her chin, looking up at him through the fringe of devastatingly long eyelashes. “I want to come back.”

“I’m not your boss anymore—maybe your dad can pull some strings. He seems to get what he wants.”

“Shut up, sir.”

“
What?
”

“I came here because I want to come back—to you. And I came here to… beg you for something.”

“Beg
me?
” he whispered, his mind blanking. Dane backed up against his truck, stumbling as his heel caught the sidewall of one of the big tires. “I don’t—beg me for what?”

What the fuck is going on?

“For your forgiveness.”

“You—you don’t need my forgiveness, Amity. You need to find a man who’s right for you, who can give you what you need.” He gave her an ironic shrug. “Preferably one who’s employed, too.”

“I’ve already found that man—and I was stupid enough to let him go.” She walked to him, taking his hand, looking down at it. “All I can hope for now is that he takes me back, even if I don’t deserve it.”

Dane’s heart was pounding, the blood rushing in his ears. He didn’t want to hope—but he did. Why had she come back?

“Amity.” He caressed her cheek and she turned her lips to his palm, kissing it. “I can’t go through this again. I can’t… lose you again. Please—if this is just a game to you, you’ve gotta stop this now.”

“I was so stupid, Dane. I’m
so
sorry. I—I was afraid. Afraid that if you were forced to choose, I wouldn’t be your choice—so I made the choice for you.”

It was never a choice, bad girl.

A tear ran down her cheek, and he wiped it gently away with the side of his thumb, a painful lump in his throat.

“I-I’m so sorry, Dane. I should have listened, listened to my conscience—and my heart.” Her overflowing eyes looked up at him and all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and never let her go, never let her feel pain ever again.

“I wasn’t just running from that fear, I was running from something else. I’m in love with you, Dane. I think I’ve been in love with you since the first moment I laid eyes on you. Please forgive me, please take me back.”

Then he did take her in his arms, and he hugged her tight, kissing her forehead, the wonderful smell of her hair filling his senses again. He’d feared he’d never feel it again, something so simple, something so right.