He melts against me when I reach up to kiss him. The test in my hand reminds me I might not even be pregnant, and I’m surprised at how much that thought upsets me.
“It could be a false alarm.”
“I guess there’s only one way to find out. Now take the fucking test, darling.”
“Bossy asshole.”
52
Epilogue
Chiara
Six years later
Iswear loudly when I look up from my screen and realize my favorite show has started. Thankfully, I’ve only missed the first five minutes, which is mostly a recap of the previous episode. Slamming my laptop shut with a bang, I toss it aside and grab my drink, ready for the latest episode of All Saints General on the flat-screen TV across the room.
This week’s episode begins with a major incident, which is pretty normal. There are very few hospitals in real life that haveto deal with terrorist attacks, earthquakes, and serial killers on a weekly basis. Still, it makes for compelling viewing.
Maggie Karns, the show’s resident cougar ER trauma surgeon, sashays onto screen, hair immaculate and her red lipstick on point, despite having spent the last two hours (allegedly) sewing limbs back on.
“I’m taking a break,” she barks at a nurse. “Call me when Mr. Hudson’s test results come back.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Nurse Blair says. Dr. Karns steps away before pausing dramatically and turning to face the camera. She bites her lip. “Is Doctor Carelli in yet?”
“Yes, Doctor Delicious…sorry,Carelli, arrived ten minutes ago. He was called into the Medical Director’s office.”
Maggie Karns inhales dramatically, gripping her stethoscope against her boobs, before rushing off-camera. I know what’s about to happen, but I’m still on the edge of my seat, eager for the latest drama to unfold. This might be a daytime soap, but it’s addictive as hell.
The scene shifts to the office, where Doctor Delicious, All Saints General’s resident heartthrob, has the sexy Medical Director, Alicia Constanza, pressed against a filing cabinet.
Damn, they look like fire together, but in real life, Monique, a.k.a. Alicia, is happily married to Holly, who’s expecting twins any day now.
“Baby, I can’t do this any longer,” Luka, a.k.a. Dr. Carelli, a.k.a. Doctor Delicious, groans. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
“I know, my angel, I feel the same way!” The camera zooms in on Alicia. Her gorgeous caramel eyes swim with tears, and when she reaches up and cups Luka’s chiseled jaw, I lean forward.
Fuck, he’s hot. The camera loves him. The guy has no bad angles. No wonder the audience ratings have gone stratosphericsince he joined the show. I swear, he has the most rabid fans, but tough shit, he’s all mine.
“I booked us tickets, so we can—” The office door slams into the wall. Several framed certificates fall off. Dr. Karns bursts in, her eyes bulging with rage.
“You bitch!” she screams. There’s a flash as she raises a gleaming metal scalpel. I gasp as it swings down toward Luka and Alicia, but before we can find out what happens next, the show cuts to the credits.
“For fuck’s sake!” Luka refuses to tell me where this storyline is going, even after I threatened to withhold sex for a week. He just laughed and said there was no way I’d stick to it.
Well, the joke’s on him.
“I thought you were working?” Angelo glares at me from the doorway of my office, his arms folded. How that man fills out a suit is criminal, I think, before I cackle to myself. Criminal indeed. Just as well he has me to make sure the company pays its taxes on time.
Like I love to remind him, it was unpaid taxes, not violent crimes, that led to the downfall of Al Capone.
“I am working. This is my lunch break.” I point to a wilted cheese sandwich still in its plastic wrapper. He frowns when he sees my half-eaten lunch, which I grabbed from the vending machine earlier.
“Is that all you’ve had to eat?” The minute the words leave his lips, I know I’m in for a lecture. The man just can’t help himself.
“Um, yes?”
“Grab your things. We’re going to Carloni’s for lunch.”
