His Secret Love by Ava Ryan

15

Jake

The secondI walk into the hospital café for lunch the following afternoon, I know I’ve made a grave error. The entire building is decked out for the holidays, of course, with enough garlands, Christmas trees, nutcrackers, Santa Clauses of all ethnicities and menorahs to decorate a good fifty percent of the houses on the eastern seaboard. All the relentless cheer is bad enough in my current morose state. What makes things even worse is the fact that invisible speakers pipe in cheesy smooth jazz versions of every holiday song known to humankind. You’d think they’d play Stevie Wonder’s “Someday at Christmas” or the Jackson 5 version of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” just to mix things up a little, but no dice. I can only take so many drowsy renditions of “The Christmas Song” and “Blue Christmas,” even on a good day. Since today’s not a good day and I’m determined not to let my foul mood devolve into a table-flipping spree that gets me arrested before my afternoon surgeries, I grab a slab of pepperoni pizza, an apple and a chocolate chip cookie and head for the atrium. I find a quiet table near the windows and settle in with my phone to get started on my backlogged emails. I could do without the bedazzled twenty-foot spruce tree in my direct line of sight, but at least out here I don’t also need to contend with “Santa Baby.”

I wolf down my food and make it through the first couple of emails. But then my thoughts kick back into self-flagellation mode, where they’ve been since my talk with Skye last night, and I let myself have it.

You really fucked that up, Jake.

Really. Fucked. That. Up.

Funny how quickly things can go sideways on a person and how quickly you can realize that the things you’ve focused on don’t matter at all. Exhibit A? My entire relationship with Skye, which trumps most of my prior life experiences. No question. I’ve been married. I’ve been divorced. I’ve had children. I’ve been happy (wedding day and birth of said kids). I’ve endured bitter disappointments and sadness (the divorce). I’ve saved lives and made a fortune doing it.

Yet when I think of the best point in my life thus far, I land on coming home from work the other day and knowing Skye would be there waiting to see me with open arms. Knowing that my kids and my mother were happy and healthy and would also soon be there. Hell, it wasn’t even fucking Skye up against the console, although that was certainly a highlight. It was the overwhelming peace of having everything I needed to be the happiest guy on the planet.

Even if I was too stupid to realize it at the time.

And if I had to choose the worst time in my life? That designation still goes to a divorce caused by infidelity. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. But this sick cratering feeling in my gut when I think that I’ve ruined things with Skye?

It’s not great, man.

It’s not great at all.

The only thing keeping me going is my determination to fix things between us or die trying.

I’m sitting there absently staring out the window while rubbing my belly and wondering if the pizza was a bad idea when the worst possible thing happens:

Two figures materialize out of nowhere and loom over my table.

“You’re not hiding from us, are you, Jake?” Liam asks.

“Course he is,” Michael says, punctuating the end of his sentence with a derisive noise. “Look at his face. His balls are still in a vise. Nanny-Gate rolls on.”

I scowl. The last thing I need right now is the Dipshit Duo.

“This isn’t a good time,” I say.

“No one gives a fuck, Jake,” Liam says as they drop into the other chairs.

I hold my phone up. “I’m catching up on emails before my next surgery. Kindly leave me in peace.”

Michael exchanges a look with Liam. “Jake wants us to leave him in peace, Liam,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest. “We really should. After he asked so politely.”

“Agreed,” Mike says with exaggerated concern. “Poor guy is clearly going through something. Probably needs a minute to himself.”

There’s a pause.

Then the two of them break into raucous laughter while I roll my eyes and suffer in silence.

“Good one, Jake,” Michael says, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes once the laughter settles down. “You almost had us for a minute.”

“So what’s the issue with you today, Mr. Grumpy Pants?” Liam makes a show of checking his watch. “Make it snappy. We don’t have all day.”

“Don’t think I will.” I pick up my phone and work on another email. “Why are you two here, anyway?”

“We wanted to grab you for lunch,” Michael says. “Your office said you were down here. Looks like we’re too late.”

“Tragically, yes,” I say. “I’ll catch you next time.”

“You know,” Liam says, tipping his head to one side to study me more closely, “you were acting like a reasonable human being for a while there. You were doing a lot of smiling. I was starting to think you and the nanny had come to some sort of a… What’s the word I’m looking for, Mikey?”

“A rapprochement?” Michael says.

“Exactly,” Liam says, snapping his fingers. “It was almost as if you were getting laid by that special someone on a regular basis. Now you just seem, I don’t know… Mikey?”

“Pathetic? Heartsick? Whipped? Ruined?” Michael says, furrowing his brow. “Spineless? Pitiful? Impotent?”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, abandoning all efforts to stay dignified and above the fray. Having learned the hard way with these two idiots over the years (they once got drunk and blabbed that my girlfriend at the time was planning a surprise birthday party for me), I try not to trust sensitive issues to their discretion. On the other hand, I could use the help, and I don’t think SEAL Team Six is on the way to rescue me anytime soon. More importantly, they both have their personal lives together and are engaged to great women. “You’re right. Skye and I had been seeing each other for a few months now.”

“Had been?” Liam says.

“On the down-low,” I say. “For various reasons.”

“Can’t blame you for that,” Michael says with a theatrical grimace. “I wouldn’t want to deal with Marlene, either.”

“The point is,” I continue loudly, shooting a glare in his direction. The two of them never liked Marlene, never thought our marriage would work and never let me forget about their foresight now that we’re divorced. Insufferable doesn’t begin to cover their ongoing smugness about the whole topic. “Things were going well with me and Skye. Really well. But we’re at a crossroads now. Her stint as our nanny is coming to an end soon. She’s sick of the secrecy. And I, ah, didn’t handle things well when my mother visited the other day.”

“What do you mean?” Liam asks.

I tell them the whole sad tale.

“Now I’m fucked and it’s my own damn fault,” I conclude. “I never told Skye in so many words how I feel. She thinks I consider her a convenient fuck buddy at best. I can’t blame her for that.”

“How do you feel?” Michael asks.

I’m not in the mood for more teasing, so I’m about to tell him to go fuck himself. But there’s less amusement and more compassion in his face now. And I really need someone to throw me a lifeline before I drown in my own anxieties here. Maybe Michael’s my guy. He’s relatively recently divorced, like me. He recently found the love of his life and seems ecstatic on a day-to-day basis.

Like…me?

The thought hits me hard. Some of my consternation must show on my face, because he leans in to give me a shoulder squeeze.

“Here’s the thing,” he says quietly. “Our marriages both ended. Mine caved in. Yours blew up. Doesn’t matter. There’s a reason they say divorces are worse than death.”

Well, he’s right about that.

“No one’s looking to get back on the horse right after that,” he continues. “I wasn’t. But Ally, man. Ally.” He shrugs helplessly, a brief glow working its way across his face at the mention of her name. “I told myself I was just dabbling. Just scratching an itch. But that was a lie, and part of me always knew it. What was I supposed to do? Throw away the good thing that happened because it showed up too soon after the bad thing that happened? Think about that. Does that make sense? If you lose your wallet and then find a hundred-dollar bill on the sidewalk, are you supposed to throw the Benjamin away because you don’t have anywhere to put it? Fuck no.”

“So you’re equating a divorce with losing your wallet?” Liam asks wryly.

“You,”Michael says, pointing directly at Liam’s nose. “I’m having a moment with Jake here. And you’ve never been divorced. So shut the fuck up.”

“I’m detecting a hostile vibe,” Liam says. “Faint, but definitely there.”

“Anyway,” Michael says, turning back to me. “How do you feel about her? What do you see happening?”

I see it all, a whole panorama of fun and adventure with Skye in the picture. The restaurants I want to explore with her, starting with the new Japanese place around the corner. I’d love to show her around the hospital and hang out at the bookstore with her. Breakfast in bed. Travel. Wherever she wants to go. The two of us could take the kids to the zoo in the spring. It’s time for me to get Christmas presents for the kids, and I need her input. Hell, even just jointly putting the kids to bed rather than this elaborately choreographed nighttime routine where we give each other space and pretend we don’t know each other very well sounds like a huge chunk of heaven to me.

I need it all. And I need it with her.

Meanwhile, Michael continues waiting for an answer to his question.

“I see her at the center of my life,” I say. “If I’m lucky.”

“If that’s what you want, then you’d better start fixing things, champ,” Michael says.

“I plan to,” I say with grim resignation. “Starting in a few minutes. Marlene’s meeting me here. I need to tell her about Skye.”

The two of them recoil as though I’ve told them to expect a visit from the Grim Reaper carrying his list of today’s souls to collect.

“Marlene?”Michael says with a frantic glance around to make sure there’s no sign of her yet. “Why didn’t you warn us?”

“I just did,” I say, bemused. “She’s not that bad.”

“Sure she is—”

“Not this fucking guy,” Liam interrupts in an undertone, glowering at someone over my shoulder. “What is it, Steele? I’m on my lunch break. A time when I do not like to be interrupted by residents.”

I turn in time to see the final approach of Atticus Steele, a senior resident I’ve had the misfortune of having on my service before. Surgical residents are not known for their humility. But in a world of overconfident Type A personalities, this cocky MF’er may well take the prize for smug swagger. The worst part of it all is that he’s got the brains to back it up. I still haven’t forgiven him for the time he challenged me on a diagnosis and was proven right once all the test results came back. On top of all that, he works overtime to drench himself in this bad-boy persona that includes tattoos, the kind of long and dramatic Hugh Grant hair that belongs in a shampoo commercial and, word has it, a motorcycle. By the time he gets fully credentialed, he’ll think he’s the Rock.

Bottom line? I don’t bother hiding my scowl because I don’t like him. Neither do Michael and Liam, judging by the similar expressions on their faces.

“This won’t take long,” Steele says, unruffled by all the malice coming his way. He pulls up a chair, flips it around backward and drops into it before handing Liam a tablet. “Mr. Jacobson’s latest numbers.”

“Which are…?” Liam says, scrolling through the results.

“Not good,” Steele says.

“Not good?”Liam says, glancing up again. “That’s your best medical opinion? Based on your Harvard education and four years at one of the top hospitals in New York?”

“If you want my best medical opinion, I’d say Mr. Jacobson’s latest numbers are shitty,” Steele says without missing a beat, the sardonic glint in his eyes shining a little brighter than usual. Then he glances around at me and Michael for the first time. “Doctors.”

“Does anyone like this guy?” Liam says, scraping his chair away from the table as he stands and thrusts the tablet back at Steele. “Just out of idle curiosity?”

“No,”Michael and I say together.

Steele stands and gives me and Michael a mocking little bow. “Always a pleasure.”

With that, he turns to follow Liam. And plows directly into Marlene, who’s got her head down and is absorbed in typing something on her phone as she gets closer to the table.

“Whoa,” Steele says, grabbing her upper arms in a deft move to keep her from toppling over backward. “Steady there.”

Marlene glances up and gets a good look at him, her eyes widening as she regains her balance and jerks free.

“Watch where you’re going,” she snaps, her trademark glower already in place.

Steele’s brows shoot up. “You’re walking while on the phone, but you want me to watch where I’m going?”

“Was I unclear?” she says.

Liam, Michael and I exchange sidelong glances as Steele looks her up and down, absorbing everything from her gleaming hair to her Chanel suit, a process that results in bright red patches of color in Marlene’s cheeks by the time he’s finished.

“You’re as rude as I thought you were,” he says, a silky tone creeping into his voice.

Marlene stiffens. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve seen you at the gym. Terrorizing the staff when the towels aren’t fluffy enough or they run out of your fancy flavored water. Dr. Atticus Steele, by the way,” he says, extending a hand. “Fourth-year resident. Pleasure.”

Marlene regards that hand the way she would if someone offered her a shit sundae with whipped cream and a cherry on top before turning to me.

“You didn’t mention that you’d started accepting everyone who applies to your residency program, Jake,” she says. “Is this one a Hells Angel or a recent parolee?”

Michael, Liam and I all repress a snigger while Steele watches her with open fascination. I’m also fascinated by this turn of events. The flying sparks are enough to set the table on fire, but nothing good can come of it with an odd couple like this. My urge to warn Marlene about Steele is almost as strong as my urge to warn Steele about Marlene. On the other hand, the two of them may be a match made in heaven for all I know, and I don’t care who Marlene hooks up with as long as her personal life—especially with an SOB like this—doesn’t affect the kids.

Before I can answer, Steele leans past Marlene and catches my eye.

“Is this your wife, Dr. Quinn?”

“Ex-wife,” I say, then decide that that doesn’t sound nearly final and emphatic enough, and I don’t want any confusion around the issue. “Very ex.”

“Good,”he says, drinking Marlene in again before striding past Liam and heading toward the elevators. “See you back upstairs, Dr. Wilder.”

There’s a weird pause while Marlene stares after him—she seems a bit dazed, frankly—and the fellas and I exchange another look. Then she snaps out of it and quickly captures her usual cool demeanor.

“Liam. Michael. Don’t let me keep you,” she says.

“That’s the one thing you never need to worry about, Marlene,” Liam says, turning to go.

Michael, meanwhile, can’t leap out of his chair and follow Liam fast enough.

“Godspeed, brother,” he tells me over his shoulder as he goes.

I battle back the urge to leave with them as I watch Marlene grab one of my unused napkins and wipe her chair before sitting her precious ass in it.

“What’s this all about?” she says when she’s finally settled, setting her little purse on the table. “I don’t have much time.”

“How was your, ah, trip?” I say, discovering that I haven’t fully girded my loins for this conversation.

She blinks, a funny look crossing her face. “Fine.”

I don’t believe her, but I gave up trying to read her various moods long ago.

“Good.” I scoot closer, dropping my voice because I don’t want to be overheard for this delicate conversation. “Thanks for meeting me on short notice.”

“Of course.”

She waits, her delicate brows half an inch above center.

I take a deep breath and decide to just jump in there.

“The two of us always agreed that we’d keep our personal lives away from the kids. Unless and until we, ah, got into a serious relationship with someone.”

Marlene goes very still. “I know. And…?”

“I’ve met someone.”

She blinks. “I see,” she says quietly, thus far showing no signs of lunging across the table to choke me out.

I breathe a little easier. So far, so good.

“It’s, ah, Skye,” I add.

I wish I could describe the look of absolute incomprehension on her face during the long pause that follows.

“Skye who?”

If only I could freeze time in that moment.

“The kids’ nanny,” I say.

Her expression slides into dawning horror.

“We actually met on a, ah, dating app,” I say quickly, determined to get it all out there before she regains her power of speech. “Before you even hired her.”

“You’ve been fucking the nanny under my nose? This whole time?” she says in an outraged whisper that probably carries halfway across the atrium.

My temper flares as if someone stupid just squirted lighter fluid on a raging bonfire.

I find the hypocrisy here staggering. This from the woman whose affair ruined our marriage. Even so, I keep a firm hold on my emotions and remind myself that this is a shock for Marlene. She’s allowed to be shocked. What I don’t want to do is exacerbate the situation by letting it devolve into anger.

“I’m not getting into all the details,” I say, infusing every syllable with finality and barbed wire. “The point is that we’ve been discreet, and the kids don’t know anything about it. But…the relationship is developing and there’s no reason why we need to keep hiding it. Especially now that she’s almost done with her stint as our nanny.”

“Skye?”Marlene’s gaping shows no signs of stopping just yet. “I asked her to keep an eye on your personal life for me. No wonder she never reported back.”

I shrug.

“I can’t believe my ex-husband is fucking Mary Poppins,” she says with a bitter laugh. “This is such a tired story. The husband and the nanny. And the wife never suspects a thing.”

I can’t let that point go unchallenged. “Ex-wife.”

“She’s even got the red hair and the sunny smile like Maria von Trapp. I should’ve known. She probably sings ‘Do-Re-Mi’ with the kids in the park. You’d better keep an eye on your drapes before she rips them down and makes them into play clothes.”

I grit my teeth and keep my big mouth shut, giving Marlene another minute or two to get used to the idea.

“Have you been laughing at me? Behind my back?” she demands.

“Of course not.”

“You must’ve thought that was the appropriate dose of karma for me after everything I’ve done,” she says, making no attempt to curb her bitterness. “I deliver a beautiful young nanny right into your lap. Make all your hookup dreams come true.”

“That thought never crossed my mind, Marlene. I told you. I met her before you hired her. It had nothing to do with you.”

“I guess not. Since you couldn’t have picked someone less like me.”

Well, she’s got me there. Skye is nothing like Marlene, and I’ve never been happier.

Not that I plan to rub Marlene’s face in it.

“Well, I don’t want that woman around my kids,” she says when I don’t argue the point. “Next thing I know, they’ll be calling her Mommy. They’re already too attached to her.”

“The kids only have one mom. We all know that. There’s room enough for you to love them and for Skye to love them. And if you want to spend more time with them, I’m sure they’d love that.”

Her expression suddenly shifts into something like despair.

“Funny you should say that,” she says, her voice cracking. “Since I got fired. From now on, I’ll have nothing but free time on my hands.”

“What?”I say, certain I’ve misheard.

“I got scathing reviews in Tokyo,” she says, her chin wobbling. “Everyone hated me. They said I’m way too abrasive and my output wasn’t commensurate with my salary. They bought me out just to get rid of me. So now, I’ve got no job, no boyfriend and a real competitor for my kids’ affections. But hey. Glad your life is going so well since the divorce.”

To my absolute astonishment, Marlene leans her elbows on the table, covers her face with her hands and sobs.

Sobs.

Sure, she does it quietly and for less than five seconds, but still. This is more emotion than I’ve ever seen from her, even during the height of our divorce.

I hastily pass her a clean napkin from my pocket.

“It’s okay,” I say uselessly.

The emotional display ends as quickly as it began. She takes a shuddering breath or two and dabs her eyes.

“What am I going to do? I’m a fucking mess, Jake.”

I don’t have to think twice about my answer. “You’ll figure it out. You’re the toughest woman I know.”

“You mean the bitchiest,” she says with a tired smile.

“Tomato, to-mah-toh,” I say, shrugging.

There’s a pause.

Then we both laugh.

“Thanks for that,” she says.

“Anytime.”

I reach my hand across the table. She takes it. I give her a squeeze. She seems grateful.

“Enough about you,” I say with a wink. “Back to me and Skye. She’s already been part of our lives. The only thing that’s changed is that now you know. Can you work on getting used to the idea of me and her?”

“Why not?” she says with an extravagant flap of her hand, as though she doesn’t have a care in the world. “What else am I going to do with all my free time?”

“Thanks,”I say, profoundly grateful for this progress. It’s not that I think that Marlene and I will have smooth sailing from here on out. I know we’ll hit choppy waters from time to time. Maybe all the time. But I’ve just cleared a major hurdle in getting Skye back. And I can’t wait to do whatever else it takes. As soon as possible.