Page 13 of Doctor Do-Over

“What? You can’t take my website down. It needs to be up. I just had a release.” Wryan looks around in a panic. “I need to call Cortney and have her compensate the bookstores in some way.”

“I don’t think you’d want your loyal readers to see those pictures of you or read the words that were scrolling across the screen. Besides, the agency is working to track this person down and keep your true identity and location secret. Now I need to assign you a new detail because Shakespeare can’t keep his emotions out of it. If he had, he would have protected you downstairs instead of jumping into the fray.” Julian shakes his head and stares her down. “Thank goodness Rogue was nearby and got you out of the way.”

The machine starts beeping, indicating her heart rate has increased. I stroke her foot gently, but it isn’t helping.

“Where’s Eddie?” Dr. Harker asks.

Who the fuck is Eddie? Am I going to have to beat another man to get to my child? I need to start a list of everything I have to do. First, I need to get an attorney to protect my child and myself. I don’t know what Wryan has planned, but I need to be prepared.

“J.D. wouldn’t let him come in. He’s in the truck.”

“Julian, have one of your guys go get him,” Dr. Harker says, and now I’m really confused. Why would her brother not allow Eddie to come in?

“Baby, you need to tell us what really happened in London,” her mom demands.

“It’s just a fan who’s upset I’m changing my writing.”

“A fan?” I look between all of them.

“I’m a graphic novelist and author,” Wryan says as she turns to me. She’s working her bottom lip hard.

I push her brother aside and move closer. He grumbles at me, but I don’t care. “Wryan, you need to calm down for the baby.” I lean over her and watch as her eyes close. A tear slips down her cheek, and I’m broken in that moment. I did this to her. If I could have held my tongue and waited for her to explain, she wouldn’t be in this bed. I did this. I’ve always struggled with my temper, but I’ve never been jealous until her.

“I’ll be back.” I stand up straight and move to the door. When I turn to look at her one last time, I find her watching me. “My attorney will be in contact with you, Wryan,” I say before walking out. As soon as the door closes behind me, I look up to see Shakespeare standing there.

“She’s been pining for you. She needs to be protected—both her and her daughter. You don’t need a fucking attorney. Just give it a moment, and you’ll see what you’re doing isn’t good for anyone.”

“I’m having a daughter?” The words slip out, and my throat tightens.

“No, she is. You’re not unless you fix what you just broke.”

“I won’t let her use my child to get to my money.” Bitterness seeps into my voice, and I hate how the words taste wrong on my tongue.

He guffaws and shakes his head. “You have no clue who she really is, do you?”

“Wryan Westerbrook,” I answer.

“Yeah, that’s her real name, but watch this.” He walks over to the nurse’s station, and I follow. “Who here knows who Desiree Collins is?”

Several of the nurses blush, and a couple pull out books.

“I just bought the book her friend Elary Tanner wrote. It’s supposed to be an erotic romance, but it sounded so good. A one-night stand turns into forever,” one of the nurses says, and sighs.

I turn and make for the elevator as the nurses continue to gush. I need to figure this all out.

By the time I get home, I’m angry again and convinced she’s trying to get something from me. I take a long shower, debating whether or not to take myself in hand. I could easily fantasize about those bigger breasts of hers. In the end, I get out and towel off. I dress in a pair of loose sweatpants and head down to my gourmet kitchen. As I warm up some food prepared by my housekeeper, I take in the large house I purchased.

It's perfect for a family. Seven bedrooms, a gym, theater, playroom off the kitchen, and more. I went a bit overboard, imagining that I would find Wryan and talk her into having my babies and be with me. Now, as usual, I’m blindsided by the truth—she’s a liar. I sit down at my desk in the office and eat as I look her up online.

Wryan’s personal social media is private. Even her Pinterest boards are secret. But when I search for the two author names Shakespeare and the nurse mentioned, I get pages of results. I click on images, and thumbnails of Wryan as Desiree Collins at various comic conventions and book signings fill my screen. She was right there in that convention center with me. I could have found out who she was before, but it would have been her alter ego, not the woman I met.

Digging further, I find that a London Comic Con ended with an unnamed celebrity being shot by paintballs. This must be the incident they were talking about. I have to do something and decide to email my attorney for help.

When I finally head to bed, I lie there, tossing and turning, thoughts of Wryan and my daughter haunting me—imagining them dead at the hands of a faceless man. I also relive our night again, recalling the number of times I purposely didn’t use a condom, leading to the state she’s in now.

The next afternoon, I’m sitting at my desk at the hospital, going over a few patient notes, when my door bursts open without a knock.

“Hello, Ridley. Have a seat.” I’m sure she can hear the sarcasm in my voice. She smiles before pulling out a chair and sitting down. “What can I do for you?” I helped save her husband’s life when he was shot, and she’s told me over and over that she owes me.

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