Loving the Nurse by Piper Sullivan
Antonio
Augusta Thompson was a knockout. And a smartass. The latter didn’t prevent me from enjoying the former, because I stared for a long time as she marched away from me, probably calling me every name in the book in her head as she did so. He purple scrub pants were just tight enough to let me appreciate the roundness of her ass, the slight jiggle that made my fingers itch to touch it. The soft thighs I had too many fantasies about parting with my hips. My shoulders.
Damn those curves, they haunted me with every trip I made to this medical center, which was too often for my liking.
But the smartass made a good point about Rosie. I needed to let my daughter speak for herself when she could. I knew that. Augusta wasn’t the first person to tell me that. In fact, my sister Teddy and my older brother Vincenzo said the same thing to me on a regular basis, but I didn’t want to hear it. It had taken a long time to get a handle on her constant asthma attacks, and now that we had it under control, they couldn’t just expect me to take a step back.
I hated that Augusta had made a good point, but I hated it more that I didn’t have a ready comeback for the know-it-all nurse.
Next time, Augusta.
“Something wrong, Antonio?”
I turned at the sound of Dr. Knox’s voice and shook my head. “Nah, just another run-in with Augusta.”
He let out a booming laugh and shook his head, opening the exam room door with a nod for me to enter first. “You two will figure it out. Eventually.”
I ignored that and took a seat beside Rosie, waiting to hear what the doctor had to say. “Anything I need to worry about?”
“Nothing at all,” he assured both of us with a smile. “Rosie is responding to treatment in just the way we were hoping. There will be small flare ups on occasion, but as long as you can identify them and treat them in a timely fashion, Rosie will be fine.”
Fine. For most people it was such a small word, such a little thing to hope for, especially when it came to a child as lively as Rosie. But she hadn’t been fine back in Los Angeles, and it turns out that it was more than the clean, crisp Oregon air that was responsible for her improved health. It was Dr. Knox. And yeah, it was also Augusta. The medical staff and my family, they were the dream team that would help me keep Rosie healthy and happy. That was my only goal when I packed up our lives and moved back to Jackson’s Ridge.
Not many men would give up a career that was on the rise as a celebrity chef to become what was basically a glorified vlogger. Sure, I was one of the most popular YouTubers within the home cooks sphere, and I had a best-selling cookbook, not to mention guest spots on morning talk shows at the local and national level. The success was a good thing, but it wasn’t working in a kitchen. It wasn’t making sous chefs shake in their chef’s whites for not meeting my exacting expectations. It wasn’t creating menus that critics said made me a culinary genius. The photo shoots and endorsement deals were still there, but they just weren’t the same.
But I’d given Los Angeles a solid shot when Rosie’s health started to fade. I tried for twelve long, arduous months, visiting specialist after specialist, trying any and every new drug promised to work wonders against the plagues of asthma. But none of it had made a difference, so I’d moved back home, and this was my life now. Cooking and being the best damn dad I could.
Every sacrifice was well worth it to see my little girl so happy and so full of life. It was better than catching her wheezing on the sofa, struggling to breathe. And being surrounded by my three brothers and my sister Teddy, meant she had plenty of adults who thought she was just as wonderful as I did, something every kid should have in their lives. Lots of love and attention.
“Daddy’s daydreaming again!” Rosie’s words pulled me from thoughts of the past, from my nonstop, dissatisfied career musings. “Are you listening, Daddy?”
I blinked away the image of Rosie struggling for breath when I walked into my ex-wife’s apartment more than two years ago. Her face was a terrifying mix of pale white and sickly green, her brown eyes filled with fear and hope that I would be able to ease her pain, stop her fear. I turned with a smile towards Rosie.
“Of course I am. Don’t you recognize my listening face?” My brows dipped low and I put my chin on top of my fist, leaning forward until she giggled.
That sound, it was the sound of a happy child, a little girl who knew she was loved. And each time I heard it, I knew moving back home had been the right choice.
