Page 52 of Devaney's Doctor Daddy

His buttercup shook her head and started snapping the fibrous ends off a bundle of asparagus. “It’s not as bad as that. Being a doctor is your calling, I can’t imagine you doing anything else. I liked my job, but I loved the times when I could be a full time mom.”

He offered her an olive which she took from between his fingers, her kitten tongue grazing the pads of his fingertips. Again he itched to tell her she didn’t have to work at all—well, not outside the house anyway. Keeping a house in order and those boys on track, playing taxi and getting food on the table, dealing with smelly lacrosse laundry, hell, keeping two growing boys fed and in clothes and shoes that fit was a full time job by itself.

But he’d already overstepped once this evening so he’d keep that to himself—for now.

“You know I don’t even know what kind of job you’re looking for. Maybe I know someone who could help.”

“Oh. I, um, have a master’s degree in consumer psychology. Mostly I’ve done market research but I’ve helped develop some marketing campaigns too. There’s a lot of data involved, and then basically telling my clients or my boss a story with all those numbers since a lot of people are uncomfortable with math. Once I’d given them all the information, sometimes I got to help decide what to do with it.”

Eric didn’t know what he’d been expecting—he knew Devy was smart and hard-working—but he was impressed.

“Damn, girl. I bet you were great at that.”

Devy nodded but blushed too as she put the asparagus on to blanch. “I was pretty good.”

“But your favorite job has been mom?”

“Yeah. I made it through school, made good grades, and got a handle on how to do my job but nothing ever felt as natural, as intuitive as being with the boys. Not that it’s easy,” she added with a rueful smile.

“Don’t have to tell me twice. I see kids for what, fifteen minutes to an hour depending on what’s up? And then I hand them back. It’s a different ballgame when they’re your own. You don’t have anyone to hand those kids off to.”

She drained the asparagus and then got the mushrooms sautéing in some butter and oil and seemed pensive. He could’ve pressed, asked her what was up but he wanted to see if she’d open up on her own instead of him having to prize her open. To keep his mouth busy, he grabbed a few almonds to chomp on.

“Do you…” Devy shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Ah, you’re not getting away with that, babygirl. What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you wanted to have your own kids someday. Or if you’ve got all the jam hands you can deal with at work.”

She didn’t look at him as she asked but focused her gaze on the onions she was scraping into the pan to join the mushrooms. What was the answer she was hoping for?

But having babies wasn’t one of those things you could fudge just because you wanted to be with someone. It wasn’t like saying you liked frogs and getting frog everything from your in-laws for the rest of your life or even telling your partner you liked bananas when in fact they were your least favorite fruit. Nah, you had to tell the truth about whether you wanted to have kids because that was a dealbreaker.

“Yeah, I always thought I’d have my own kids. Like I said, different ballgame from seeing them all day at work though I do like getting to watch my patients grow up. Even if I’d have to deal with jam hands more often.”

Eric cleared his throat, getting ready to ask Devy if she wanted more children. She clearly loved being a mom, but maybe being a mom of two was sufficient. Maybe Chase and Logan made her family feel complete.

Before he could get there though, Devy swore and waved her hands at the stovetop.

“Shit, forgot to add the garlic.”

There was a flutter of activity and the moment was gone. He’d ask about it later, because goddamn right there was going to be a later.

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