She hurried over to Cuppa Joe, one of her favorite coffee places. It wasn’t too far from the hospital, so she and Nic dashed over there for breakfast sandwiches and large coffees whenever their schedules synced up, which wasn’t often. That was why they were meeting, she assumed. The schedule had just been handed down, and they usually sat down once a week to see when they could block out time to be together. She was lucky enough to have the night off, and if he did too… well, she had some plans for what they could do to fill the time.

  It had been two months. Two exciting, glorious months. Two months of longing glances and knowing smiles, of sneaking into the supply room to make out, of the occasional nights together that would be burned into her memory for the rest of her life. Sure, two months of an actual relationship wasn’t much in the scheme of things, much less two months of stolen moments, but it was the closest thing she’d had to being part of an actual couple in her entire life. She’d had the occasional fling here and there, always with guys she trusted, but never with guys who she felt she had any future with, and that was fine—her future was medicine. Her career was something she could count on.

  Then she’d met Nic, with his midnight black hair and shocking, mesmerizing blue eyes, and she’d felt chemistry so strong she was surprised other people didn’t feel the heat of it coming off of them in waves.

  No, more than chemistry. Connection. Their off-the-chart chemistry was evident in the heated glances and flirty banter, but it had been that first night that had convinced her that what they had was different. They hadn’t made any promises—they hadn’t needed to, and she didn’t want to jinx it. The future between them was uncertain, but they had a few months before their respective residencies ended, and they had to go their separate ways.

  Maybe it was foolish, but she’d learned the hard way to value what she had, when she had it. Life was too short to do otherwise.

  She saw Nic, sitting at the table, a cup of tea and a scone in front of him. She had yet to place his rich, sexy-as-hell accent, which wasn’t American. Still, she hadn’t pressed, because he disliked talking about his family or his past. Besides, it made life easier for her. She didn’t have to discuss her family, or rather her lack thereof, either.

  Pushing it aside, she leaned down, giving him a quick kiss and a smile. “Hey, you.”

  He smiled back, but a frisson of nerves skittered down her spine. This wasn’t the smile she was used to. She sat down, carefully.

  “Hi,” he responded, his rich, deep voice still able to make her toes curl.

  “Everything okay?”

  He sighed heavily. “No, I’m afraid.”

  She tensed more. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m leaving the States.”

  “What?” Now her stomach knotted. “When?”

  “As soon as possible.” His expression was mournful, tinged with deep regret.

  “As soon as…?” she echoed. “But… I thought… your residency isn’t up for months!”

  She thought they’d have through Christmas, at least. She thought they had more time.

  He shook his head. “Something came up. I need to go home for a bit, then I’ll be finishing my residency abroad.”

  She blinked slowly, still in shock. “Oh.”

  What does that mean for us?

  “I’m so, so sorry,” he said, and to his credit, his voice and his expression looked pained. “But there’s nothing I can do.”

  “Of course.”

  She waited. Waited for him to say something, anything, that might help the situation. Maybe suggest that they could—what? Skype? Text? Send carrier pigeons, for God’s sake?

  But he wasn’t saying anything. He was just sitting there, sad and silent, staring at her.

  “This is it, then, I guess.” She swallowed hard.

  “I wish I could stay.”

  She couldn’t stop herself, and she flinched. Unbidden, she was hit with memories.

  It’s harder for older kids to get adopted, Summer.

  This foster home is just temporary, Summer.

  You’re a great girl… it’s not your fault.

  She sat up straighter, pasting a smile on her face. “Well, it was fun while it lasted, right?”

  God, that sounded bitter. More bitter than she’d meant it to. Possibly because, no matter how hard she’d tried to guard herself from it, their two-month interlude had somehow transcended fun and become more meaningful, whether she wanted it to or not.

  He tilted his head. “Summer… I’m…” He took a deep breath.

  She waited.

  “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, his voice sounding gruff.

  It was like a hammer strike on an anvil, ringing in her head. The regret. The finality.

  “Goodbye, Nic.” Her words were calm, almost numb. She got up slowly, pushing back her chair with care, deliberately turning away from him and his sorrowful expression, and those damned hypnotic blue eyes of his. She didn’t need his pity. Other café patrons were studying her with curiosity and concern. I don’t need their pity, either, she thought angrily. Her stomach railed, and her heart pounded as she somehow made it to her car without looking back.

  She blinked hard to clear away the tears that flooded over as she pulled out of the parking space and rushed home. It wasn’t until she got into her own apartment and shut the door behind her that she really broke down, but not before texting her best friend, Rachel, a fellow resident at the hospital.

  Rachel made it there in record time, grocery bag in hand. “Your text said 911,” she said, taking in Summer’s tear-stained face. “And you look like hell. Who do I have to kill?”

  Summer let out a sob-tinged laugh. “Nic’s leaving.”

  “Oh, crap.” Rachel quickly rushed over, hugging her. “No wonder you wanted ice cream. I thought he was staying until after the holidays?”

  “Something came up.” Summer gulped, glancing in the bag. Rachel had brought over a selection of her favorites. Summer grabbed a pint of salted caramel ice cream and pulled out a spoon, quickly digging in.

  “And he didn’t say anything else? Nothing about what came up, nothing about where he was going? Nothing about staying in touch?”

  Summer’s stomach churned. She kept eating, waiting for the ice cream’s magical cheering powers to kick in. “I should’ve known he was too good to be true. Shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.”

  “Aw, c’mon,” Rachel said, grabbing a pint of mint chocolate chip and a spoon of her own. “I always thought he was really into you. Anyone who saw the two of you together would’ve thought that.”

  Summer shook her head. “I’m over it. I don’t need him.”

  Or anyone.

  Without warning, she felt her stomach lurch, hard. She dropped the ice cream and bolted to the bathroom, barely making it in time to throw up in the toilet.

  “Oh, honey,” Rachel said, quickly holding her hair back. “You are upset.”

  “I’ll get over it,” Summer croaked.

  Somehow.

  Three weeks later, Summer slammed the “end call” button with her thumb, grabbed a throw pillow, and screamed into it.

  “Another dead end?” Rachel asked sympathetically.

  Summer dropped the pillow. “Nobody has any idea where the guy went. It’s like he vanished into thin air!”

  “He wasn’t really friends with anyone,” Rachel agreed. “I mean, other than you. I liked the guy, but…”

  “I was sleeping with the man, and he wouldn’t tell me what country he was from!” Summer felt a combination of anger and the edge of panic creeping into her voice, and forced herself to calm down.

  It’s not good for the baby.

  “I tried everything just to figure out where he might’ve gone, but no one at the hospital would tell me anything. ‘Privacy issues’, yadda yadda. Even though I made it clear that this was an emergency.” She felt tears pricking at her eyes and blinked hard to force them back.

  “That sucks,” Rachel agreed, “but I guess it is their job…”

  “No. You know what sucks? Discovering that Nic Thomas isn’t even his real name.”

  Now Rachel’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No! I had to bribe Jenna from H.R. with a dozen cupcakes, but she told me that the higher-ups had made some kind of special dispensation for him, and that he’d insisted on complete anonymity!” Summer sank down into the couch. “Who does that?”

  “That is bizarre.” Rachel got up, pouring them both a cup of ginger-lemon tea. It was helping to settle Summer’s stomach, and she accepted it gratefully. “Maybe… I don’t know. He was in witness protection or something?”

  “At this point, I keep asking myself this: who was Nic?” Summer said, shaking her head. “I mean, if he couldn’t tell me any of the basics about where he was from, if he lied to me about his name, what else was he capable of?”

  If he lied about that—had it all been a lie? Had she been wrong about the handsome, caring, wonderful man she’d given so much of herself to?

  She rubbed her stomach absently. There was only the barest of bumps showing, but she knew it was just a matter of time.

  “Have you made…” Rachel gestured to her stomach. “Any, uh, decisions?”

  Summer closed her eyes for a second. “I’m keeping it,” she answered decisively. “No matter what.”

  When she opened her eyes again, Rachel’s expression was sad. “You know I’ve got your back whatever you decide, but it’s going to be hard.”

  “I know.” Summer sighed.

  “Like, really hard,” Rachel pressed. “You’re still continuing your residency, and that means a lot of stress. And then there’s your actual practice. Juggling that with childcare…”

  “I’ll figure it out.” It sounded like an oath. When Rachel still looked doubtful, Summer turned to her, trying to put as much emphasis as possible in her words. “When my parents died, I didn’t know how I was going to keep going. I was crushed. I loved them so much.”

  “Aw, hon…” Rachel’s gaze was sympathetic, but Summer brushed the pity away.

  “But I knew that they wouldn’t have left me if they could help it. That car accident wasn’t their fault. And I know they would’ve wanted me to keep going. So I did. Even when it was really hard,” Summer continued, tilting her chin up. “All I’ve wanted in life is to be a doctor, and to have a family like we had. My parents loved each other and me so much.”

  “So even without Nic…”

  Summer straightened her shoulders and took a sip of her tea. “Two out of three isn’t bad,” she said resolutely. “He could’ve been a part of this. He chose to leave. He chose to keep me in the dark and lie to me about who he was.”

  She rubbed her stomach again, this time making a promise to herself and the little person growing inside her. “We don’t need him,” she emphasized. “This baby is going to know it’s loved every single day, and I’m going to do whatever I need to to keep it safe and happy.”

  Rachel raised her mug in a toast. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  Summer returned the salute. “And let’s make a deal, okay?” She sighed. “From now on, Nic is nonexistant.” She took another sip. “Let us never speak of him again.”

  Rachel frowned. “But what about when the little bean there,” she gestured at Summer’s stomach, “wants to know about their daddy?”

  Summer sighed. “When that day comes, I’ll figure something out,” she said, even as doubt nipped at her. “In the meantime, I am pretending that Nic Thomas—or whatever the man’s name really is—does not exist.”

  3

  Two years later…

  Nic looked over the chart, then smiled at the family in the hospital room. A young girl with dark brown hair and huge brown eyes looked sheepish, as her dark-haired mother wore a frown of concern. “We’ll keep an eye out for concussion, but I think your daughter is going to be fine,” he quickly reassured the mother. “Just make sure she’s a bit more careful on her skateboard, hmm?”

  He watched as the mother’s face flooded with relief. “Oh, thank you, your Highness!”

  “Just Doctor in here,” he said, as he often did, before waving and going back into the hallway.

  Nic rubbed at his temples before glancing at his watch. Six o’clock—almost the end of his shift, although he’d been there since seven that morning. It had been a long day in a series of long days, but on the plus side, the Mynian Royal Hospital’s pediatric ward was taking shape. He still had a few more hours to put in, not for patients, but for policy. His father and several of his ministers were expecting his thoughts on some proposed changes to the kingdom’s health care system.

  Did it mean long hours? Yes. And sure, he didn’t have a personal life to speak of, but he expected that. Hell, he’d known that was going to be the case for years, since…

  He sighed.

  Since Summer.

  He tried not to think about the last woman he’d been serious with, but it was hard. He’d let himself get way too involved back then, to the point where two years later, he was still dreaming about her.

  “Your Highness…”

  Nic gave the resident addressing him a wry look.

  “I mean, Dr. Hansen,” he quickly corrected, looking apologetic. He looked young and just a bit tired, in the pale seafoam green scrubs that they all wore. “We’ve got a new patient, boy, five years old. Fever, but nothing too high. Parents were saying that he’s been complaining of leg pain for a while, though. I told them to keep an eye on it, and it’s not like we’re admitting him, but someone told me you might be interested.”

  “Leg pain?” Nic repeated, even as his muscles tensed reflexively.

  The resident nodded. “I think it could just be growing pains, maybe coupled with a mild virus, but according to the parents the leg pain has been fairly persistent, so I was thinking, should we keep an eye out for JIA?” He looked like a student fearful of failing a test.

  “Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis,” Nic mused, his mind scrolling through what he’d studied on the topic. “It’s a possibility.”

  Nic swallowed hard as images flashed in front of him. His young brother, Tom, complaining of leg pain, which his parents had brushed off as the typical aches of childhood. His difficulty climbing stairs. The clumsiness that no one had realized was so much more serious than it seemed… until it was too late.

  He could picture Tom’s brilliant smile, even as the muscles in his face started to weaken. I’m going to be a doctor, Nicky!

  Nic shook off the memory before it could hit harder. “Add a genetic test for the parents, would you? The mother, especially. And schedule an EMG.”

  The resident’s eyes widened. “You’re thinking Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy? That’s fairly rare, isn’t it?”

  Not rare enough.

  “Just a test,” Nic said, but it sounded like a croak to his own ears. He felt a desperate compulsion to look at the patient’s charts himself, and probably would that night. For now, he needed to change the subject before he broke further. He heard some commotion down the long, brightly lit hallway, and saw a small group of doctors in scrubs and white coats. “Who are they?”

  “Them? Oh! They’re Dr. Buckham’s new fellows,” the resident chirped, thankfully distracted from Nic’s no doubt pained expression. “Just started today. He’s been showing them around and such, walking them through human resources, establishing schedules.”

  “Oh.” Nic probably ought to go, say hello. After all, he’d helped establish the fellowship and the benefits for the program, even if Dr. Buckham was responsible for hiring the fellows themselves. Still, he had all those white papers to go through after his shift was over. There were some questions his father had about elective surgeries covered in the health care policy that might need adjusting. “Well, I’m sure I’ll talk to them…”

  He stopped, thrown off, when one of the fellows—a vivacious blonde woman—let out a peal of laughter as Dr. Buckham told one of his typical jokes.

  Summer?

  He blinked. It couldn’t be.

  Could it?

  “All right. We start tomorrow, then you’ll have a weekend to recover,” Dr. Buckham said jovially, and the group of fellows disbanded, some chatting with each other. Summer was looking down at some notes, and he found himself walking towards her. She almost ran into him.

  “Oops! I’m sor—” she started, then goggled.

  She’d dyed her hair, he realized, her shoulder-length tumble of wavy curls more blonde than the brunette of his memory. It made her look even more Californian. More like sunshine. She was staring at him with her full lips slightly open. Not in passion, of course, but in outright shock.

  “Nic?” she breathed.

  His heart seemed to stop for a second, then trip-hammered in his chest, beating like crazy. “Summer,” he murmured back.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He looked around. The question had an edge to it—one of accusation, with just a tinge of anger. The shock was going to wear off. He knew that he’d ended things poorly with her. It was one of his biggest regrets. But he wasn’t quite sure how she was going to react to the idea of them working together during her tenure as a fellowship recipient. Especially once she discovered who he really was.

  Glancing around, he shepherded her into an empty exam room. “I live here,” he said. “I mean, I’m a doctor here.”

  “Of course you are.” Her laugh had a hint of hysteria. “What’s your real name, anyway?”

  He stiffened. “You found out. That I was working under an alias, I mean.”

  She nodded.

  “Does that mean,” he asked slowly, “that you looked for me?”

  Was it crazy that the fact she might’ve made him feel hopeful? He’d had his reasons for cutting off contact. He had way too much on his plate to get involved in a long-distance relationship, especially with someone he felt as passionately about as Summer. But the idea that she cared enough to seek him out made his chest heat in a way it hadn’t in… well, two years.

  Anger crossed over her expressive face, and her hazel eyes blazed. “I find out you lied to me, that you weren’t at all the person I thought you were—and that’s what you’re focusing on?”