“From everything I’ve seen, Camilla D’ Angelo makes you happy.”
“There’s a reason a windshield is bigger than a rearview mirror.”
“Who says you can’t have another?”
Doc had been feeling guilty about possiblysleepingwith Cami. Imagine the state he’d be in if he was thinking about…
He couldn’t even finish the thought. It was too ludicrous. He’d found the love of his life, and she’d died. Period. End of story. A second wife would be…what? A consolation prize?
Camilla D’ Angelo plays second fiddle to no one,he thought adamantly.She’s someone’s first place trophy. Someone’s gold medal.
“Cami?” He knocked softly on the door. “Can I come in?”
All his ruminating and reasoning had gotten him no closer to knowing what to do.
It’s time to play the game and let the chips fall where they may.
Chapter 19
8:58 PM...
“Come in!” Cami yelled, using the excuse of twisting a messy bun onto the top of her head so she didn’t have to meet Doc’s eyes when he pushed open the bedroom door.
She’d heard.
Heard him assure John there wouldn’t be any white dress or wedding bells in their future because he’d already had them. Heard him admit, quite adamantly, that he considered a second chance at love to be out of the question.
And now, she could say she truly understood heartbreak.
It felt similar to death in that the grief came in quick waves. One second she felt like she was drowning. The next she could breathe, and she would tell herself,It’s okay. You’re okay.And then another wave would crash over her head and suddenly there was no oxygen to be had in the whole damn room.
And the worst part? The one person she wanted to tell, the one person who would have brushed away her tears and assured her there were plenty of fish in the sea, was dead.
Carlotta!She silently screamed into the void.Help me do this! Help me be brave!
That’s what the situation required.
Courage. The mental fortitude to keep all her thoughts and feelings bottled up because it wasn’tDoc’sfault she’d fallen in love with him. It wasn’thisfault he didn’t feel the same way about her. And itcertainlywasn’t hisfault her heart was broken.
When he said, “How you holding up?” she hitched one shoulder.
“I’m managing. You?”
“Still dog-ass tired.”
She finished with her bun and pressed her back against the headboard. She was glad she’d thrown the coverlet over her legs because they were shaking. So were her hands, so she shoved them under the covers too.
When she finally dared to glance up, it was to see him closing the door and setting a burning candle on the dresser beside the one she’d lit earlier. Then he turned and strode toward the bed.
It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to watch his loose-hipped swagger and not to break down into a puddle of snot and tears at the thought of not getting to see it every day for the rest of her life.
“Mind if I join you?” He kicked out of his flip-flops and waited for her to throw back the covers in invitation.
The mattress depressed under his weight, causing her to slide in his direction until their hips touched. He threw an arm around her shoulders automatically, like they’d been friends for years,loversfor years, and thatmade her want to cry even more.
She bit the inside of her cheek—hard—to refocus her mind and latched on to the first subject that came to mind. “How are Will and Brady?”
“They’ll live.” He grimaced. “Which is good. I don’t think I could’ve handled another black mark on my soul.”
