Page 40 of Doctor Mile High
“I had to. I didn’t have a choice,” I explain, pointing out the obvious.
“Yes, you did. You could have told everyone to go to hell and you could have birthed that baby alone if you wanted to.” His fingers slip down my arm and goose bumps arise on my skin. “I want you, Dove. You’re the only one I’ve wanted since that night. You’ve consumed my mind. My thoughts are no longer my own, as you control them. I’ve ached for you in ways that are dangerous to the heart. I don’t care about our age difference. I’m forty-five years old and I didn’t feel like I started living my life until the moment I met you.”
I can’t stop the tears running down my face. He’s saying all the right words. All the words I’ve dreamed about hearing all these months, he says so easily. I thought it would take more time for us to get to know one another. I’m surprised how easy our connection is, and how organic it is for us to fall into one another and say the hell with the rest.
“I’m twenty-five. Are you sure that doesn’t bother you? We are twenty years apart. Your family will be horrified.”
“Will your family be horrified?” he asks.
I furrow my brows together at the absurd question. “Why would they be?”
“Because I’m twenty years older than you. I could be your father, Love Dove,” he says, spilling the nickname seemingly without thinking.
I don’t want to ask him if he meant to say it. He did and I’m going to relish in it. “But you’re not,” I whisper as he leans in closer to me.
My eyes fall to his lips. Lips that have been haunting my dreams since the night I got to feel them against mine.
“My family won’t care,” I tell him. “They only want to see me happy.”
His gaze falls to my lips in return, the same want and need shining in his eyes as the day we met. “Then, I don’t see what the issue is. If you’re happy, if I’m happy, then that’s all that matters.”
Suddenly, I feel very seen. I know I don’t look the best since I just gave birth and had surgery. I glance away from Winston’s handsome face and stare at our son.
“Look at me,” he orders.
I shake my head, not wanting him to see me like this—vulnerable and exhausted. He’s seeing me at my worst, and we really don’t know each other very well.
“Love Dove.” His fingers grip my chin and with a stern pull, he has me turn my head to look at me. “There are those beautiful eyes that I’ve been dying to see up close and in person again.”
I blink away the tears, loving how good his touch feels, even if it’s an innocent one.
He leans down, his thumb pressing against my bottom lip. “You’re more beautiful than I remember,” he whispers. “I knew you were gorgeous, but you are without a doubt, the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.”
My cheeks flame. A small giggle slips free and I fan my face in hopes the redness isn’t too noticeable.
“What is it, Dove?”
“No one has ever spoken to me like that before. That’s all. And I know I look a little rough right now?—”
He places one finger over my lips to silence me and I wait for him to speak, wondering why he wouldn’t let me finish the sentence.
“Look at our son, Dove. He’s healthy. You went through hell to bring him here. You fought even harder to survive so you were here for him. You’re more beautiful now than I have ever seen you because of those reasons. You brought my son into this world. There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me view you as anything less than beautiful.” He bends down, ending the space between us.
His lips meet mine in a burst of confidence, yet sweet and gentle given the circumstance. His hand cups my jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of my cheek. The worry, the anxiety, it all begins to fade. My heart is at ease. My mind is at peace. My body is relaxed. And my soul?
It’s claimed.
This is how it feels to be found when my spirit has been searching for safety for far too long.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
The doctor’s voice has me pulling away from Winston, blushing even harder, if that’s possible. Winston isn’t done. He kisses my cheek, the top of my head, then takes one of my hands and kisses my knuckles before intertwining his fingers with mine.
Is this what it’s like to be liked? Maybe even one day, to be loved? I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I’m already thinking about our future. I’m dreaming of us having one more child, maybe a daughter, and having big property outside of the city for the children to run and play. The house is modest, not too big or small, and one level because I hate stairs. I’d love for us to have a wraparound porch so we can sit in rocking chairs and admire the beautiful view of our property.
Would it be wild for me to dream about having a few horses? Chickens? I don’t know anything about taking care of animals of that nature, but I’m so over the city. I’m willing to learn if it means having a happier, more fulfilling life.
“Miss Blair?”
