Page 29 of Sinful in Scrubs

I hadn’t expected my son to turn into my unintentional wingman, but he’d learned more about Emma in one cab ride to our house than I had in the several weeks we’d been working together.

We stood side by side at the sink, the rhythm of washing and drying dishes creating a quiet intimacy that I hadn’t felt in a long time. It felt… natural. Easy.

“You know, I don’t do this very often,” Emma said, breaking the silence.

“Do what? The dishes?” I asked, glancing at her.

“Dinner at someone’s house. The whole… family thing.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged, her expression guarded. “My folks moved to Florida, and the only family I have that’s local is my grandmother. I don’t have any cousins, so this feels a bit like something out of TV or a movie. And work doesn’t exactly leave a lot of room for a social life.”

“Sounds familiar,” I said. “When Blair and I were first married, I spent more time deployed than I did at home. The military isn’t exactly known for fostering close-knit family dynamics.”

“I appreciate the invitation to the ball game and the company,” she said. “I know I can be standoffish at the hospital.”

“I don’t think I’d call it standoffish,” I admitted. “You’re maintaining a professional distance.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to be a complete bitch about it,” she said with a dry laugh.

I laughed at her choice of words because, well, she had been a bit of a bitch—not that I’d ever admit it to her face. But then again, there were plenty of surgeons who were the same way. It was almost a professional expectation.

“Being a surgeon comes with a certain amount of ego,” I said. “And that sometimes comes across as a potential character flaw in both men and women. Hazard of the profession.”

“Even so, thank you,” she repeated.

“My son hasn’t smiled this much in a long time,” I admitted.

“It’s none of my business,” Emma started, “but… their mother?”

I swallowed. I knew this was going to come up eventually. I couldn’t avoid it forever.

Emma glanced at me, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “How long were you married?”

“Fourteen years,” I said, my voice softening. “She passed away three years ago. Breast cancer.”

Her hands stilled for a moment, the plate she was holding hovering over the drying rack. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice sincere.

“It’s okay,” I said, though it wasn’t entirely true. “I mean, it’s not okay, but… we made the most of the time we had. And now, it’s just me and the kids trying to figure things out.”

“You’re doing a good job, you know,” Emma said, breaking the silence.

I raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

She smiled. “Jason’s a sweet kid. And Lily… well, she’s got a lot going on, but it’s obvious she cares about you. Even if she doesn’t always show it.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling a warmth I hadn’t expected. “That means a lot.”

We finished the dishes in companionable silence, and when Emma dried her hands and turned to face me, there was a softness in her expression that made my chest ache.

“I should probably get going,” she said, glancing at the clock. “It’s getting late.”

“You don’t have to leave so early,” I said. “You could stay, maybe watch a movie with me and the kids.”

She hesitated, her lips curving into a small smile. “Tempting, but I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“Not possible,” I said.

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