I think about the first time I saw Carmen standing in the blazing sun waiting for me outside the hospital. I think about going to get her out of jail and how adorably undone she’d been by the time she’d spent in that cell. I smile, recalling how her hair had gone from ruthlessly straight to wildly curly in the two hours since I’d last seen her, thanks to my convertible and the south Florida humidity. I thought she was stunning the first time I saw her, but even more so the second time when her prim, perfect veneer had been upset by her time in jail.

  I remember her telling me she’d never even been to detention before she met me and landed in jail less than an hour later. God, she’d been adorable that day, so frazzled and worried about her parents finding out about her stint in jail. What a refreshing change of pace she’d been from the start, unlike anyone I’ve ever met.

  I recall finding out she is a widow and wanting to know everything about what she’d been through and discovering, one detail at a time, how she’d survived it with her particular brand of strength, courage and determination. In many ways, she reminds me of my mother. She would love Carmen. Almost as much as I do.

  That thought stops me short.

  Hell, I love her. Is it too soon? Absolutely. Does that matter? Absolutely not. I love her, and I think, maybe, she might love me, too. Why else would she feel it was so vital to take a step back, to protect herself from whatever damage I might inflict on her with my ongoing turmoil? If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have done that. She would’ve stuck around, enjoyed the time we had left and walked away unscathed when I go.

  After the fantastic time we’ve spent together, neither of us will walk away from this unscathed. The thought of never seeing Carmen again is unimaginable to me, and the possibility of that fills me with panic. I pick myself up off the floor and, hoping Ginger has taken off by now, go downstairs to get a new key.

  I’ve got a lot to do and not much time left to do it.

  CARMEN

  I hardly sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of Jason and Tony and dreading having to put my life back together once again. I hate being back in this place of grief and loss. No, it’s not the same as when I lost Tony, but the ache is all too familiar and unwelcome.

  I try to shake it off as I go through my morning routine, which includes a stop at Juanita’s.

  She immediately senses something is up. “Oh, no. What happened? Where’s your sexy doctor?”

  “I… Um…”

  Juanita surprises me when she shuts her window, flips the Open sign to Closed, comes outside to take hold of my hand and marches me inside. In all the years I’ve been buying coffee from her, I’ve never been in here.

  “What’re you doing? This is the busiest time of day for you.”

  “They’ll wait. What’s wrong?”

  “He’s probably going back to New York.”

  “Que lastima.” She hugs me tightly. “Lo siento, mi vida.”

  I’m determined not to break down, to soldier through this and get to the other side of it as quickly as possible. Two weeks ago today, I didn’t even know he existed. I refuse to allow him to ruin the life I worked so hard to put together for myself after the last time my heart shattered. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

  Angry customers knock on the window, but Juanita doesn’t seem to care in the least as she hugs me long and hard. “So many people admire you, mi amiga—the way you’ve carried on after losing your sweet husband. Everyone wants to see you happy and smiling the way you’ve been with that hot doctor. It was a sight for sore eyes.”

  I frantically blink back tears, determined to get through this day without them. “Thank you, Juanita. I truly appreciate the support.”

  “If it doesn’t work out with him, you’re going to find someone else. I know it. A heart like yours is too big to hold all that love you have inside you. You gotta give it away, amiga.”

  I never knew she felt that way about me. “Thank you. That means so much to me.” I hug her again. “Now, get back to work before you have a riot on your hands.”

  “Eh.” She waves a hand at the window as she hands me my cortadito. “They’ll wait. They’re addicted.”

  I laugh because that’s the God’s honest truth. Like me, they can’t get through the day without a shot of Juanita’s magic. When I try to pay her, she scowls fiercely at me. I send her a grateful smile and emerge from the shop, feeling the glare from everyone in the long line directed at me as I make my way to my car.

  “Don’t you be looking at her that way,” Juanita says. “I brought her in here, and if you want your fix, you’d better be nice to my girl. Now, who’s next?”

  I smile at her sauciness as I get into the car, perching my coffee carefully in the cupholder because God forbid I should spill it. Juanita’s cortadito is liquid gold deliciousness.

  I’m about to pull out of my parking space when Priscilla roars into the lot, stopping next to my car. I’m frozen in place, unable to move or think or breathe or do anything other than drink in the sight of Jason’s gorgeous face. I’d have to be blind to miss the yearning in the lovely eyes that always look at me with affection and desire. Now is no different. He conveys so much with just a look.

  He gets out of his car and comes around to mine, knocking on the passenger window. I eye the unlock button warily. It took every ounce of grit I could summon last night to take a step back from him. If I let him into my car, I’ll be right back to square one.

  I glance at the passenger window. He’s bent at the knees, staring at me imploringly through the glass. Every part of me wants every part of him. Even as I curse my lack of willpower, I unlock the door.

  He gets in, closes the door and turns to face me.

  I crank the AC so we won’t roast to death.

  A quick glance tells me he’s tired—as tired as I am. He didn’t shave, and his hair looks like he “brushed” it with an impatient sweep of his fingers.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Sure. Never better.” I take a sip of my coffee so I’ll have something to do with my hands besides reach for him and beg him to stay with me forever.

  “You willing to share your fix?” Offering a small smile, he tips his chin toward the cup.

  I hand it over to him and try not to react to the moan that’s become far too familiar to me for reasons that have nothing to do with cortadito.

  He gives the cup back to me. “Ginger was at my hotel last night.”

  I gasp, nearly spill the coffee all over myself and realize my efforts to remain detached from him are for naught. I can no more remain detached from him than I can suddenly decide to quit breathing. “What did she want?”

  “Who knows? I told her to get lost.”

  “How’d she find you?”

  “That’s an excellent question, but I didn’t care enough to ask. I just wanted her gone.”

  “Wow, she came down here to find you. That’s pretty crazy.” Suddenly, I’m chilled to the bone and not just because of the AC that I turn down to low.

  “She’s nothing to me, Carmen. Surely you have to believe me when I tell you that.”

  I tell myself it doesn’t matter. He’s leaving. I’m not. What do I care if he feels something for his ex? Except I do care. I care more than I’ve cared about anything in years, despite my futile effort to stay removed from him and this crazy situation. With him sitting next to me, his familiar scent filling my senses and reminding me of so many intimate moments with him, remaining removed is all but impossible. “I do. I believe you.”

  “I miss you.”

  “You saw me yesterday.”

  “I missed sleeping with you last night. I slept like shit.”

  “I did, too.”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but will you please give me a couple of days to figure out my life before you write me off forever?”

  “I haven’t written you off forever. I’m just trying to avoid, you know…”

  “Heartbreak?”

  “Yeah,” I reply, sighing. “I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime.”

  “The very last thing I want to do is cause you more. I hope you believe that as well.”

  “I do.”

  “The offer from New York was unexpected. It’s thrown a wrench into things, and I’m trying to figure out how to proceed. You’re very much a factor in my decision-making process.”

  “Which I absolutely should not be. Eight days, Jason. You’ve known me for eight days.”

  As if he can’t resist the need to touch me for another second, he takes my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing my palm and the inside of my wrist where he has to feel the thundering beat of my heart in the throbbing pulse point. “The best eight days of my whole life, Carmen. Hands down.”

  “Really?” My voice sounds high and squeaky.

  “Really. I need you to have some faith in me and us. We’re going to figure something out, okay?”

  Hope swells within me, a wave of happiness so big, I can’t hold it back even if I wanted to, which I don’t. I nod because what else can I do but put my faith in him?

  He leans across the center console but can only go so far.

  I have to meet him halfway, so the choice is mine to make. As if there’s any choice at all. I lean in.

  His hand curls around my neck as his lips meet mine in a kiss that starts sweet but quickly becomes about the frenzied need and intense desire.

  We resurface many minutes later, hands buried in hair, lips tingling and other parts on fire for more.

  “Whoa.”

  His single word sums it up rather well.

  “I have to go to work.” I glance at the clock. I have fifteen minutes to get there on time and will need every one of them at this hour.

  “Me, too.” He kisses the back of my hand and lets it go, seeming reluctant. “Can I call you later?”

  I think about that before shaking my head. “Call me when you figure out what you’re doing. We’ll go from there.”

  He groans dramatically and drops his head back against the seat. “You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Giordino, but okay. We’ll do this your way.” He rolls his head my way and looks at me with those beautiful eyes. “Don’t fall for someone else before you hear from me, okay?”

  My lips quiver from the effort not to laugh. I sense he wouldn’t appreciate that right now. “I’ll try not to.”

  “You do that.” He reaches for the door handle but looks at me one more time, seeming to take visual inventory, before he gets out of the car and closes the door behind him.

  I watch him walk over to join Juanita’s line, noting the subtle hunch of his shoulders as he goes. While I hate to see him hurting, it helps to know we’re both unsettled. I’m thankful for that as I leave the parking lot and head for work, running frightfully late.

  Chapter 22

  CARMEN

  Traffic is more of a beast than usual, and I end up jogging on heels from the parking lot, juggling my cortadito, my work bag and my purse. The effort is worth it when I roll into the executive suite five minutes after nine.

  Fortunately, only Mona sees me come in late, and I doubt she’ll tell anyone.

  “Good morning,” she says, apparently chipper in the morning, which is super annoying to a non-morning person.

  “Morning.”

  “Did Dr. Northrup’s sister find him last night?”

  That stops me dead in my tracks. “His sister?”

  “She’s very pretty. I could see the resemblance.”

  “That’s interesting because Dr. Northrup doesn’t have a sister.”

  Mona stares at me, her eyes wide. “He doesn’t?”

  “He only has a brother, so it seems you gave his location to someone who isn’t a family member, Mona. That could’ve been very dangerous if she’d been looking to harm him.”

  I feel like shit when her eyes fill with tears, but it’s true. She can’t just give out a colleague’s personal information without their permission.

  “Is he… He’s all right?”

  “He’s fine, but he was not at all pleased to be confronted by the woman who caused the scandal in New York.”

  “That’s who she was?”

  “That’s who she was.”

  “Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry. I feel terrible.” She looks up at me with eyes gone shiny with tears. “You won’t tell Mr. Augustino, will you?”

  I offer a smile and a wink. “You kept my secret, and I’ll keep yours.”

  “Oh, thank you, Carmen. You’re the best. I’m so glad you’ve joined our team.”

  “Me, too.” I go into my office and get settled for the day. I send Jason a quick text to tell him that Mona was the one who gave his “sister” the address of his hotel.

  Well, that’s one mystery solved. Leave it to Ginger to lie about everything.

  I told Mona she shouldn’t be giving out that info without permission. She’s very sorry.

  Tell her no worries.

  I put down my phone and get started with my email, where I find a message from Terri, the nurse administrator friend of Jason’s from New York.

  Hi Carmen,

  Here are some more testimonials that came in from former patients and colleagues of Dr. Northrup’s. I heard the board here offered him his job back. Tell him we’re all delighted to hear that and can’t wait to have him back where he belongs. I texted him but haven’t heard from him. I hope he’s holding up all right amid all this nonsense. Anyway, I’m not sure if you still need the testimonials, but I figured I’d send them along anyway. Thanks for all you’ve done to help Dr. Northrup.

  All best,

  Terri

  I feel dead inside reading that message, hearing how excited his former colleagues are to have him back where he belongs. I read through the testimonials from thankful patients, family members of patients who died despite Jason’s heroic efforts and colleagues who sing his praises as a physician and human being.

  I add each one of them to the PowerPoint presentation, which includes a cascading array of testimonials. I realize there are probably too many of them, but I included them all in light of what we’re trying to accomplish.

  I add the bullet points Jason emails me about his research, save the file on our internal server and share a link to the latest version with Mr. Augustino.

  An hour later, he comes to my office, knocking on my open door before he steps inside. “Good morning.”

  “Morning.”

  “I saw the latest version of the presentation. It’s very well done. Kudos, Ms. Giordino.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you’re happy with it.”

  He sits in my visitor chair, seeming morose. “It may all be for nothing. Did you hear that New York invited him to return?”

  “I did hear that.”

  “I spoke with the chair of our board earlier, and she feels it would be inappropriate for us to proceed with him in light of this development.”

  My heart sinks. “So that’s it? It’s over then?”

  “I believe it is.”

  “Oh, well.” I can’t break down in front of my boss. I won’t cry at work. But I want to. I really, really want to.

  “You did great work on this project, and I’m pleased to offer you the director’s position if you’re still interested. You’d be in charge of hiring an assistant to replace yourself.”

  Crushing lows, soaring highs. I can’t keep up with this rollercoaster ride I’m on. “I… Yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you for the confidence you’ve placed in me.”

  “The board is interested in doing more of the kind of community outreach you coordinated for Dr. Northrup. I’d like you to oversee that as part of your new duties.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Excellent.” He leans across my desk to shake my hand. “Congratulations, Ms. Giordino.”

  “Please, call me Carmen.”

  “I’d be happy to. I’m Roy.”

  I should be thrilled. I’ve received a huge promotion in my second week. I get to hire my assistant, and I’m on a first-name basis with the hospital president. But I’m not thrilled. I’m heartbroken for myself while happy for Jason. The wide array of emotions is almost too much to process.

  A terrible wrong has been righted. That’s what matters here, or so I tell myself.

  I force myself to keep my emotions locked away until I can fully wallow in them later. “I talked to my parents, and they said to let them know when you and Mrs. Augustino would like to come in for dinner. They’d be delighted to have you.”

  “That’s wonderful. My wife will be so excited. She loves the Cuban food at Giordino’s. I’m partial to the Italian myself. Our anniversary is on July 12th.”

  “I’ll get you a reservation for seven?”

  “That’s perfect. Thanks again.”

  “Any time.”

  Mr. Augustino—Roy—leaves my office. I try to refocus on the notes the former director left me about ongoing projects, upcoming events and other things that’ll require my attention as the new director.

  I can’t concentrate on anything, so I decide to take a walk to clear my mind. I wander through the hospital, getting to know the place as I go. In the elevator, I randomly choose the fourth floor, which is labor and delivery. I pass the closed doors to the neo-natal intensive care unit where premature babies fight for life. I watch as nurses escort a happy couple to the elevator from the other side of the long hallway. The woman is in a wheelchair with a baby in her arms as the man follows behind her, carrying the baby’s car seat.

  I wonder what it would be like to be that woman on my way home to start the next phase in my life with my child and the man who loves me. If Tony had lived, that would’ve been us, at least twice by now, if not three times. We’d debated how many children we wanted. Two for sure, with more open for negotiation we never got to have.

  On the sixth floor, home of the oncology department, I encounter a young male patient attached to a rolling IV stand, walking with a nurse, who encourages him to take a few more steps as he grimaces in pain. I say a silent prayer for his full recovery.