Page 25 of Facial Recognition

“Please, Tom,” I whispered. “It’s been seventy-two hours. Thankfully the neurologist says we should give you more time. And good news, your EEG says you have brain activity. I bet you’re arguing with yourself right now. Debating whether your life is worth waking up for. Well, it is,” I cried. “June’s been here, and let me tell you, she’s looking pretty fine. She still has some meat to her, as you would say. And Carly, she’s so sorry. She wants you in her life. She’s even staying at the house. Isn’t that great?”

I dealt us each a hand. “I know you’re wondering about Brooks. He hasn’t been by in a couple of days, but we don’t need him. He’s probably been going to TED Talks about how to properly tie your shoe, or something just as ridiculous.”

I peeked at my cards. “Yikes. I should have worn my magically delicious shirt. I think you really are cheating.”

The sliding door opened, and my head popped up. I was expecting to see Tom’s overnight nurse; instead I was greeted by a familiar but surprising face.

“Knock, knock, I hope I’m not intruding.” Julian Bronson, or should I say Dr. Bronson, Morgan’s brother, walked in, wearing green scrubs and looking dog tired with red eyes and a serious layer of scruff on his chiseled jaw.

I set my cards down on Tom. I hoped he didn’t mind that I was using him for our card table. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in labor and delivery?”

He chuckled lowly. “Just came from there. I delivered a ten-pound baby tonight.”

“Yikes. That makes my insides hurt.” Not to say I wouldn’t do it in a heartbeat. What I wouldn’t give to pop out a chunky baby. The question still remained, though. What was Julian doing here?

His tired violet eyes livened up the closer he got to me. “Rumor has it you’ve been living here for the past few days.”

I tilted my head. “Who have you been talking to?”

He flashed a smile reminiscent of his sister’s. Big and toothy. They probably both had gotten caps. “Didn’t you hear? I’m practically related to the Hamiltons now.”

I accidentally inhaled the gum I had been chewing and started choking on it, sputtering and hardly able to catch my breath. While I embarrassed myself and tried to hack up my gum, horrible scenes flashed before my eyes of Morgan and Brooks walking down the aisle. Dang, did Morgan look perfect in her trumpet gown. Brooks was dashing in his black tux. Ryker and Axel were darling ring bearers, except they started fighting and the rings went flying. Carly dove to catch them in slow motion. Okay, that was pretty hilarious.

What wasn’t funny was that I was choking to death. Julian rushed over to me and started pounding on my back. “Are you okay?”

I finally coughed up my gum and took a huge breath. “I’m fine,” I eked out. You know, except my heart felt as if it had been bludgeoned to death. I thought Brooks had sworn off marriage.

“Good. For a minute there I thought you might need mouth to mouth.” He wagged his brows.

I thought he was married. “Um . . . why are you here?”

Without an invitation, he pulled up the extra chair and sat next to me. “Brooks and Morgan mentioned last night at dinner that you’d been staying here.”

So, Brooks was throwing dinner parties while his daddy was dying? Or maybe . . . “Did Brooks and Morgan get engaged last night?”

“Engaged?” he chuckled. “Let’s hope not. Those two are like moths to a flame—eventually they’ll go up in smoke. They always do.”

Huh. That was an interesting take. One I would have liked to get more information about, but I was too busy internally breathing a sigh of relief. Which was dumb, as I had sworn off Brooks forever. “But I thought you said you were practically related.”

He rested his masculine, missing-a-wedding-ring hand on my shoulder. “Figure of speech, darlin’.”

I stared at his hand. “Oh. Well . . . how’s your wife? I’m sorry, I don’t remember her name.”

Julian dropped his hand. “Our divorce was finalized last month.”

Holy crow. Three divorces. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged. “You win some, you lose some.” His eyes drifted toward the cards on Tom. “Looks like you are about ready to lose this hand.”

“Tom’s cheating,” my voice cracked, betraying my emotions. I normally held it together during the day, but there was something about being here late at night, alone with just Tom and the nurses. Hope faded in the darkness.

Julian took my hand. It caught me so off guard, I numbly let him. It’s not like I felt anything.

“Would you like to talk? I’m told I have an excellent bedside manner.”

I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or propositioning me. Either way, I took my hand back. “I appreciate it. Although I’m sure you’re tired and want to get home.” It was nearing midnight.

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