“Like what happened to me?” She glances down at her wheelchair in fear.
“Yes and no. Both of you were hurt because of someone else’s actions, but how you were hurt was very different.”
“How? I know my bones were hurt, and the doctor said I may have hurt my big mints ...”
“Ligaments,” I correct with a grin. Big mints. God, I can’t wallow in pain when Bailey lights me with nothing but happiness.
“My bones broke because of the hospital.” Her reality because of my actions, crashes me back to Earth. Then she frowns. “What happened to Cia?”
“Well, Dr. Rosenthal . . .”
“You know him?” she blurts out.
“He used to be my boss.” One of many. I remember my orthopedic rotation before I accepted emergency medicine as my sub-I.
“Really? Like Mr. Caleb and Mr. Keene are Daddy’s bosses?”
“Yes.” Giving her a moment to absorb that, I blow on her fingers, making her giggle. “Dr. Rosenthal knows when he looks at pictures of your bones if they’re going to heal in a few days, months.”
She lets out a dramatic sigh that reminds me of Kalie. I snicker when she flings her hand to her forehead. “It feels like a million years.”
To a seven-year-old, I bet it does. I pick up my story. “Well, long ago, Dr. Rosenthal looked at Cia’s pictures—”
“He looked at her pictures too?” Bailey’s grin is obviously because she and her new friend have something else in common.
“He did indeed. But in Cia’s case, he had to tell her mommy and daddy she’d never be able to walk.”
“Never?” Bailey whispers. Her lower lip quivers.
“No, sweetheart.”
Bailey’s silent for a moment as I continue to stroke the polish on her nails. “Is she really sad?”
I answer honestly. “Sometimes and sometimes, she gets really angry. Both are normal, healthy reactions.”
“I’m going to get out of my chair soon.”
“You will,” I agree.
I hear a car pull up the driveway and the garage open and close just before Bailey questions, “Will Cia still want to be my friend if I’m not in a wheelchair like her?”
In my time as a doctor, I’ve had my heartstrings tugged. I always understood being a doctor was more than a career, but a calling. But until this moment, I’m not certain I appreciated that I could fall in love with a heart without listening to it through a stethoscope unless it was with a member of my family. I pass a hand over her silky hair before reassuring her, “I’m certain she will.”
Relief fills her face briefly. Then she looks over my shoulder and excitement replaces the worry when she shouts, “Daddy! You’re home!”
I twist in my chair to find Liam leaning against the opening to the kitchen. He’s lost his jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up his shirtsleeves so I can see the beginning of the impressive tattoo that runs up his right forearm. His eyes hold mine for a nanosecond. His expression leaves me wondering if I’m reading his face correctly because, in his eyes, I spy more than just a man appreciating a woman for looking after his daughter.
There’s a simmering hunger.
For me.
My pulse starts racing. It’s one thing for me to admire how gorgeous Liam Payne is. Wondering what he might think of me is dangerous territory for my mind to wander into. Shoving the image of what his face looks like at this moment to the back of my mind for going through later when I’m alone, I refocus on Bailey as Liam approaches us. He reaches down to lift Bailey into his arms when she squeals, “Daddy! My nails! You have to wait!”
“Excuse me, Princess Buttercup. I do beg your pardon.” With that, Liam does a fairly impressive impersonation of a courtier as he bows low to his daughter.
I grin hugely at the haughty expression Bailey assumes. I clear my throat and get into the spirit of things. “You, sir, are late.”
He gives a smacking kiss on his daughter’s forehead before addressing me. “Forgive me, your ladyship. I was caught in traffic.” He glances down at Bailey’s green finger and toenails. “It seems you two found a way to amuse yourselves.”