Dr. Fake It - A Possessive Doctor Romance

She went slow. She didn’t move like she used to, and had some partial paralysis on her left side. Her fingers on that hand didn’t work well, and she needed a cane to get around—but she was alive, very alive, and she was all there.

After we left Philadelphia, we went straight to Boulder, Colorado, in the shadow of the mountains. They loomed in the distance, a horrible and impossible reminder of the grand majesty of our great Earth, and it took me a while to get used to them. Gavin found a house that would take cash, and we moved in a few days later—it was unconventional, but the sellers were motivated, and not all that interested in following the rules. It was small, at the end of a gravel driveway, tucked in the back of a tiny cul-de-sac, and I loved the hell out of it. Gavin got into woodworking and spruced the place up, even renovated a bathroom, although that took way longer and cost way more than we’d ever anticipated.

Mom woke up six weeks after we got settled. One day, she was completely out, and the home nurse Gavin had hired was busy taking care of her—and suddenly her eyes flittered open, she let out a groan, and the nurse started screaming.

It was a miracle. Gavin said that sort of thing really does happen, but still—it felt like a miracle. And the strangest part was—she no longer wanted to smoke. It was like she went into that coma addicted to nicotine, and woke up without any cravings.

She took a while to heal and acclimate to her injuries, but soon enough she was back to her old self. She lived with us, of course, though she constantly talked about getting her own place. Gavin would never let her do that though.

“Here you go,” she said, sliding a plate of pancakes across from me.

“Thank you kindly.” I dug in, wolfing it down in seconds. Mom leaned back against the counter, sipped some coffee, and laughed at me.

“Easy there, hon. You’ll choke.”

“Mom, I’m not going to choke. I’m really, really good at eating pancakes.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Don’t I know it.”

I glared at her. “Is that a comment about my weight?”

“Now, hon, you know I’d never talk about a pregnant woman’s weight. I have more class and tact than that.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed the plate toward her. “Another, please.”

She grinned and got to work making me a third. “Do you know how late Gavin’s working today?”

“I’m not sure. I think he should be home soon.” I glanced at the clock. “He had the graveyard shift.”

“Poor guy.”

“I think that’s how it goes when you join a new hospital.”

“I’m happy he’s practicing again though. He’s been a little lost, you know, drifting around out here.”

“I’m happy too.” I touched my belly, right where my baby was growing, and smiled at the ring on my finger. We were still married and didn’t plan on changing that anytime soon.

By the time I finished my third pancake, and mom finished talking about our weird neighbor that liked to shoot beer cans in his back yard with a BB gun, Gavin’s car came crunching down the gravel driveway. He came in a few minutes later, wearing his scrubs, looking exhausted, but his face lit up when he saw me.

“Hey, you,” he said, coming over. I kissed him and hugged him.

“How was your shift?”

“Boring,” he said. “But good. Hey, Linda.”

“Hey, yourself. Hungry?”

“I’m good.” He squeezed me tight. “How’s my baby?”

“Still growing.”

He knelt down and kissed my belly. “I’m going to love the shit out of you,” he said.

I laughed and pulled him up. “You gotta stop doing that.”

“Not until he’s born.”

“Or she.”

“He, she, I don’t care.” He hugged me tight. “Now, I have to go shower the hospital off me, then get some sleep.”

“Sounds good. Want me to wake you up?”

“Around three, if that’s cool. Let me get a few hours.”

“Enjoy.”

He grinned, kissed me one more time, then headed upstairs.

I watched him go with a smile on my face then sat back down.

“I have to say, hon, your little family’s looking pretty good.”

“Yeah? I don’t know. The baby’s not here yet.”

“It’s here. Maybe it’s not born, but it’s here.”

I smiled a little. “That’s true.” I put my hand on my belly again, and for the first time in a while, I thought about everything we’d left behind, about Fiona, the hospital, and the mafia.

We hadn’t heard anything from them since we left. Not a peep, not a comment. I knew Gavin called Dr. Chen at last once to press him for information, but apparently Chen said the family had their own problems, and didn’t plan on bothering us anytime soon. And besides, we’d left them a large sum of money—more than enough to buy off anyone that was pissed about Cosimo’s death.