Page 6 of Doctor's Surprise Twins

He nods. “Seriously. Just think about having those long legs wrapped around your hips as you?—”

I cut him off, smacking his chest with the back of my hand. “Seriously, kid. What did I tell you?” I glare down at the teenager again.

He turns back around just as we all step forward with the line.

Noah chuckles, thinking the nosy kid is funny. “So, you going to give it a go?”

“Give what a go?”

“Hooking up with this Ally.” He says it like I’m a dumbass for not following along.

“Of course not!” My tone of voice is drenched with annoyance. “I’m old enough to be her father.”

He grins and nods. “Notfather.” He points at me. “Daddy is more like it.”

The kid in front of us starts to turn again, but I say, “Don’t even think about it,” and he freezes and remains facing forward. I lean toward Noah. “This isn’t the time or place for this conversation.”

“Why? Because just hearing us talk about screwing the gorgeous nurse with long legs makes this shithead pop a boner?” He laughs. “It’s not like it’s his first.”

This time, the kid’s dad overhears us and glares at us before putting his hand on his son’s shoulder and pushing him forward. Now, there’s a small gap between us as they place their order.

I look over at Noah and can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips as we chuckle quietly. I pinch the bridge of my nose to get myself under control. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

That just makes him laugh harder. At nearly forty years old, he’s still a giant child who lives to make everyone uncomfortable.

The father and son in front of us get their food and move on, leaving us to step up and order.

When we’re given our food, we take it to a table in the far corner of the sandwich shop so we’re out of earshot.

He must have gotten whatever it was out of his system because the rest of our lunch is one that any adults would have.We mostly talk about work, drama going on with the staff, and what the rest of the day entails.

When we get back to the hospital, we go our separate ways.

I step into my office and take off my jacket, pulling my lab coat back on. I flop into my chair, leaning back to relax for the few minutes I have left of my lunch break.

My elbow is resting on the arm of my chair, and my hand is rubbing at my eyes as I get back into work mode. When my hand falls away, my eyes land on the framed photo on my desk.

The picture was taken the day I married the love of my life.

Her dark hair is swept up into a fancy updo hidden beneath her lace veil. Her white dress is striking against her olive skin. Her green eyes are looking directly into the camera and her smile is wide, showing her perfect, bright-white teeth as her head is thrown back in laughter as we dance.

Amelia was the love of my life. Four years, three months, and sixteen days was all I was allowed to have with her.

That’s not nearly enough time when you’re talking about your soulmate.

It’s been six years since she passed, and Noah is right. I haven’t moved on. I haven’t been interested in moving on.

Her clothes still hang in our closet. Her beauty products still line the vanity in the bathroom. Her favorite coffee cup still sits next to the coffeepot, and her vitamins are still on the windowsill, above the sink in the kitchen.

Everything is how she left it. I haven’t let another woman into our house.

I haven’t let another woman into my life in any way.

I can see where Noah is coming from. If the roles were reversed, I’d be worried about him, too. But this is my life, and I say how I live it.

If I want to spend it alone because I’ll never meet anyone who can compare to her, that’s what I’ll do.

He is right about one thing though: A man’s needs don’t go away just because his wife died.

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