Page 34 of Between Our Hearts

She swallowed against the obstruction in her throat. “I might be late tonight. I’m booked through this afternoon.” His lip began to downturn. “But I only have two-thirds of a day of office appointments tomorrow. Maybe we can grill something and eat dinner together on the deck.”

Clark’s gaze was unnervingly steady on her. “They’d like that.”

Though birdsong, buzzing insects, and the conversation and laughter of many others surrounded their circular table, it felt as if they were encapsulated in stagnant ice compared to the vibrant life surrounding them.

“Is your sandwich good?”

“Mmm.” She mumbled an affirmative sound over the large bite she’d just taken, nodding and blocking the view of her mouth. “Yours?”

Clark’s eyes were on the uneaten sandwich held between his calloused fingers. Instead of answering her question or taking a bite, he set it down so slowly that a shiver raced down her vertebrae, stinging the base of her spine.

“What’d I do wrong, Sadie?”

“What do you mean?”

Her husband pinched the bridge of his nose with a loud exhale. “I’m trying. I’m trying to reconnect with you, with the dates and”—his hand swept over their discarded sandwiches—“and things like this, but you keep disappearing on me. Even now, you’re looking at me like the sight of me makes you sick.”

She cringed because it did, but only because she was reminded of how much she was disappointing him.

A tautness pulled at her right temple. If someone had told her that at thirty-eight she’d be the head of orthopedic surgery with a ridiculously attractive husband and an adorable daughter, she would’ve conducted a mini-mental exam to evaluate their connection with reality. But now that this was her life, she wanted to complete the vision that Clark had always detailed so realistically to her. A future she’d have never dreamed for herself—a happy little family of four.

That was why each time was so much harder than the last. That’s why her brain couldn’t reason away the overwhelming emotional pain as each life was ripped from her.

Sadie felt as if her lungs were paralyzed—air wouldn’t leave or enter them. Stagnant carbon dioxide poisoned her from the inside.

“You don’t make me sick,” she finally managed.

“Then what is it?” His eyes bore into her, forcing her to focus on the shiny quality of the sandwich paper beneath her fingertips.

“You know what it is,” she whispered.

His exhale pushed a few breadcrumbs closer to her. “Then let’s talk about it. Let’s work through it together.” He paused. “Maybe we even need help. What do you think about seeing a therapist together?”

The muscles of her back pinched. The same thought had occurred to her only yesterday standing in line at Nash’s Hardware Store, but having to talk to someone else made everything too real. If she told a therapist, if she told Clark, about what she’d done over the last year, they’d classify her as insane. Then she wouldn’t be allowed in an OR, the only place that brought her any semblance of happiness right now.

“I don’t—”

“Do you still love me?”

An aggregation of various nonverbal objections came out of her mouth, but no words. That question was ridiculous.

Across the table, Clark waited, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

“Of course I do.”

“Because I haven’t stopped loving you, not for a second, since that first night.”

That statement hit her like a three-hundred-and-sixty-joule resuscitation pad to the chest, altering her consciousness. In the aftermath, stubborn intellect took its chance to grab the reins. “There’s no way—”

His humorless laugh interrupted her. “Not every woman completely blows my mind in bed and then spends fifteen minutes explaining how she reassembled a splintered femur that day. I’d never met anyone like you. Of course I fell in love with you.”

She could feel her cheeks reddening and fought hard against it. Everything that night had been in stark contrast to every previous romantic relationship in that she hadn’t hidden any parts of herself. Before she’d always downplayed her assertiveness, her intelligence, and her love for her career.

That night, she’d gone full tilt, knowing that in the morning, she’d walk away and never see this handsome stranger again. Why bother making herself more digestible when it was just one night? The catch was that Clark hadn’t seemed to mind. He’d only listened with this entertained spark in his eyes and insisted they see each other again.

Her husband frowned. “But I guess it wasn’t the same for you.”

Heaviness snaked through her chest remembering the rest of that evening. How after the hottest sex of her life and babbling about her surgical case, she’d accidentally fallen asleep in the nook of his strong shoulder. The loud pop of a three a.m. firecracker had brought her to consciousness first, but then his masculine, woodsy scent had snagged and held her attention. A few seconds later, he’d run his hand over her hair and down her spine in a way she’d never experienced before. When they’d made love for the second time, she’d struggled to mentally override the floating feeling beneath her sternum.

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