Phil slides out of me, causing me to wince a little as he’s fairly well-endowed. Once he’s disposed of the condom and brought back warm washcloths to clean us both up, he crawls back into bed. Stroking the hair on my chest, he murmurs, “Want to talk about what happened?”
I sigh because I really don’t. I know that if I share the burden with Phil, he’ll help support me through the holidays as I cycle through the emotions over the loss of a complete stranger. It isn’t the first time it’s happened since we’ve been together, and as long as I remain a doctor, it won’t be the last.
Holding on to him, I tell him about the events of the day before, as briefly as I can. I feel his hand tighten on mine during the tough parts—moving baby Grace to my vehicle and feeling Mary’s life start to fade away. He goes rigid with anger when I tell him about Mary’s fiancé.
“How dare he,” Phil hisses.
“He needed to vent his anger, babe,” I say wearily.
“Not at you. Not at a stranger who went so above and beyond to save everything he loves.”
I smile sadly, knowing it doesn’t work like that.
Phil pulls me tighter against him and says, “You, my love, deserve a day of pampering.”
“It’s too bad you have to work,” I murmur, wishing we could spend the day together.
“We’ll just see about that.”
* * *
A few hours later,Phil and I are seated in his BMW and heading into New York. I don’t know how he managed it, but somehow he talked his sisters into giving him the day off. Even Corinna, who is up to her golden eyes in cake batter, voted yes to throw Phil out for the day.
I know Phil likely shared the details of what happened with my extended family, and it warms my heart to know they fully support me, even if it means they’d all be working late to cover for his share of the burden.
Amaryllis Events, the wedding- and event-planning business my husband founded with his sisters, is one of the premier businesses of its kind in New England and New York. Even though Phil deflects the accolades he deserves for his magic with floral design, it’s as much for his artistry as it is for Em’s gowns, Corinna’s cakes, Holly’s photography, and Cassidy and Alison’s sharp business and legal eyes that run the firm that draws in as many repeat clients as it does first-time ones. For a man who grew up not only on the edges of poverty, but was weighted down in it with anvils tied around his legs, Phil made a hell of a life for himself and for the five sisters he adopted along the way.
As he turns the wheel, I catch a glimpse of the amaryllis tattoo on the inside of his left wrist—the Freeman family symbol. Each of the siblings has the tattoo in a different location. Phil wanted to be able to see his as he worked with the flowers that feed his soul almost as much as his family and I do.
It hasn’t been without tremendous struggle or personal sacrifice that he’s made himself into the man who can wear Gucci loafers with ease, but you would never know it from the pride he carries himself with. The pride he taught his sisters to have, who in turn will pass it along to their families when the time is right.
Reaching across the center console, I lay my hand on his thigh. “What are we doing when we get to the city?”
He casts me a quick glance through tinted sunglasses, he muses. “Oh, I thought we’d go visit Keene before I hit up a few stores for his gift. The city has a better selection of porn than Collyer does.”
Rolling my eyes, I state clearly, “You are not buying your sister’s brother porn for Christmas. It’s tacky. It’s inappropriate. And…”
“And he probably has enough as it is,” Phil concludes sadly. Shaking his head, he laments, “I’m at a loss, then, babe. I just have no idea what to get him.”
Grinding my teeth, I offer something bland. Banal. Boring even. “What about a gift card?”
Tapping his finger on the steering wheel, he appears to give it some thought. My spirits soar. This could be momentous—Phil actually listening to a suggestion about Keene without a knock-down, drag-out—
My hopes are dashed when he says, “Nah. I’ll think of something. Christmas is still a few days away.”
I turn to the door and immediately begin banging my head on the window. I’m almost positive the people in the car next to ours must think I’m a head case. I might be by the time the gift giving is done in three days.
3
“Holy crap, you weren’t kidding.” I say as we pull into the underground parking beneath Hudson Investigations, the company owned by Keene Marshall and Caleb Lockwood.
It wasn’t too long ago we met both of these intriguing men for the first time. Caleb happens to be the older brother of an old friend of mine who I became reacquainted with recently. Ryan, and his now-husband Jared, were looking for a wedding planner to coordinate their wedding in less than two months. Cassidy accepted the job and in doing so, met and fell in love with Caleb, Ryan’s older brother.
Little did she know, a large portion of her own personal past would be revealed, and she would uncover the early missing years of her childhood. When all the dust settled, Keene was floored to realize that the woman he’d had interactions with over Ryan’s wedding was actually his missing sister of twenty-five years.
Miracles. As a trauma doctor, I hope for them. After falling in love with Phil, I stand as a witness to them.
“Not at all,” Phil says cheerfully. He turns his sleek car into a parking spot, putting the car in park. “But only just for a minute. We need to get our parking ticket validated.”
