Page 109
A year later
Iglanced at my watch with a sigh. Matthew was late again. It happened more and more these days. There were never enough doctors. Nurses. More patients than ever. With the shortage of family doctors, more people were forced into using urgent care and ERs to treat their minor medical issues when the walk-in clinics were closed or overflowing. He often worked long past his shift.
I turned down the soup I had bubbling on the stove and curled up in the chair by the window. Matthew had bought it for me as a “welcoming” gift to my new home. Smaller than most of his furniture, it was the perfect size for me to sit in and read, with the arms a comfortable height and, if I wanted, my feet hitting the floor.
I sat for a moment, lost in thought. Today had been an unexpectedly happy, anxious sort of day. I couldn’t wait to share it with my husband.
Moments later, I heard his key in the lock, and he strode in, looking handsome, tense, and exhausted. His gaze found mine and he smiled. It was a different smile than most people saw. It was mine. Warm. Sexy, with one side slightly pulled up higher than the other. Combined with his heated gaze, I had no doubt he was pleased to see me.
Dropping his messenger bag, he crossed the room, bent down, cupped my face, and kissed me.
“Hello, Mrs. VanRyan. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
I grinned. I loved it when he called me Mrs. or “my wife”—they were two of my favorite names he had for me.
“Dr. VanRyan. How was your day?”
He threw himself onto the sofa across from me. “Exhausting. One extreme emergency after another. It never stopped.”
“At least tomorrow is the start of your days off.”
He let his head fall back with a groan. “The three days off are great, but the new ten-hour days are killing me.”
“I know. I find them long too.”
He sighed. “The worst part is we’re not working the same shift. I feel as if I’ve hardly gotten to see you since we got married.”
I laughed. He complained about that all the time.
We had wed four months after our trip to Port Albany. We returned there, using the winery that was owned by the family and getting married in the pretty setting. Sue was there, and the girls I had roomed with and their plus-ones were all guests. Other than our close friends, it was family only.
The service was at six. Dinner at seven. Dancing started at nine.
The party broke up around three.
We kept it simple, wanting merely to enjoy the day. Matthew cried when he saw me walking down the aisle on his father’s arm. Richard didn’t give me away that day. He added me to the family instead. Sue sat in the spot usually reserved for the mother of the bride. Bentley sent the plane for her and Grams and Gramps, refusing to allow them to fly commercial.
I didn’t even bother contacting my parents. I had made peace with their absence from my life a long time ago, and I saw no reason to pretend I wanted them there.
I had a whole group of people wanting to love me now. Who chose to be a part of my life—good or bad.
I wore a pretty gown that Cami designed. It was ivory with tiny flowers embroidered over the bodice, exploding onto the full skirt with more embroidery. As I walked down the aisle, I glanced down, feeling as if I were strolling through a garden.
Matthew loved it.
We spent a week in Port Albany. Alone most of the time but sharing some meals and evenings with our family. Then we flew to a mountain retreat and spent seven glorious days alone with each other. No family, hospital, or anything else to distract us.
We made love everywhere. Every room in the cabin. The hot tub, on the forest floor one crazy afternoon. Even the hood of the car. We were loud. Messy. Crazy in love and filled with passion.
And that hadn’t changed a bit.
“Not much we can do about that,” I replied, breaking out of my musings.
Matthew cleared his throat. “Perhaps there is. I wasn’t working overtime today. Or the days I was late last week.”
I was confused. “Oh?” The look on his face made me anxious, and I strove for levity. “Having an affair with a hot nurse?”
He laughed. “The hottest. My wife.”
