Page 103 of Accidental Doctor Daddy
She squeezed my hand gently. “Well, if you ever need to talk, I’m next door.”
I nodded, unable to speak.
She left, and the apartment felt emptier than before. I gave up on the recipe notebook, deciding a hot bath might clear my head.
In the tub, steam curling around me, Dom’s face invaded my thoughts again.Was he mad at me or relieved? Did he know I left to protect him?A tear slipped down my cheek, lost in the bathwater.
The guilt flared the way it did every night.Maybe he’s dealing with Seth alone, maybe he hates me for that. But I had to do it.
When the water cooled, I trudged to bed, my phone silent on the nightstand. Before turning out the light, I paused to check on the twins. They breathed softly in unison, tiny fists curled. My throat tightened. “It’s worth it,” I whispered, as if they could understand. “He’ll never resent us if we’re not there to ruin his life.” The words tasted bitter, but I forced them out.
Time went by like that, my days filled with menus, staff camaraderie, short breaks with the twins, and late-night heartbreak. I refined the morning specials, introduced a few dinner items, and started receiving positive reviews from the local neighborhood blogs. “Steel Kitchen was on the rise,” the manager said, beaming as he showed me an online write-up praising my “inventive but comforting dishes”.
“See?” Tanya teased one afternoon, elbowing me. “The universe is rewarding you for trusting it.”
I smiled weakly, stirring a pot of rosemary-infused soup. “Maybe.”
That night, before heading home, I ventured out for a quick stroll to the corner store—milk, bread, small essentials. The evening air had that crisp Chicago feel. A few people I passed offered smiles or nods, and I managed to nod back.
On my way back, I paused in front of a window display showcasing baby clothes. A pink onesie with “Chicago’s Cutest”scrawled across it caught my eye. Dom would have teased me for buying something so touristy. But I walked in and bought two anyway, telling myself the twins needed new outfits.
Later, in the apartment, I held one of the onesies up to Summer’s sleeping form, imagining her wearing it and me texting Dom a photo. Except I couldn’t do that to him. No bridging that gap.
My tears splattered on the tiny garment, so I tucked it away.We’ll be okay,I told myself for the millionth time.
Like Tanya said, the world was full of possibilities and the universe…blah, blah, blah. That girl might have lived a charmed life, and I hoped she was able to continue doing so. But I had kids, so I had to accept the real world.
Crawling into bed, I stared at the ceiling, clutching a pillow. The ache throbbed in my chest, but Chicago had begun to feel like a real home—friendlier staff, a more balanced schedule, a calmer environment for the twins.
All I can do is keep going. I did the right thing. Now, I have to learn to live with it.Sometimes, you have to leave the people you love to save them.
Maybe that was what Katie thought when she left home. If she weren’t around, then Mom would stop using her as an accomplice in her scams, so she’d stop scamming. My sister had no reason to think Mom would turn to her youngest child to replace her lost teenager.
We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time.
A tear slid down my cheek. I held onto that phrase, letting it lull me into an uneasy sleep. Because if I doubted it for one second, the heartbreak might swallow me whole.
Chapter 40
Dom
Istepped off the elevator into a corridor lined with tinted glass walls and abstract art, feeling oddly weightless. The hush of expensive carpet muffled my footsteps as I approached the sleek reception area, where a practiced smile from the assistant greeted me. She recognized me easily—I was one of the three founders, after all—but there was no trace of warmth in her eyes. This was a world of polite formality, not personal attachment.
“Good morning, Dr. Mortoli,” she said, rising from behind her pristine desk. “They’re ready for you in the conference room.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, adjusting my lapel. My stomach churned with a nervous energy that felt misplaced. I had saved countless lives and successfully performed impossible surgeries. There was no reason for a business meeting to shake me this badly. But it did.
She led me down a quiet hallway, each office door etched with the names of people who’d become strangers. I’d once known every face in my company, back when it was a small startup in a cramped suite. Now, in this imposing Chicago high-rise, everything gleamed with corporate polish.
The truth was, this place had stopped feeling like it belonged to me a long time ago.
We arrived at the conference room—one of those glossy glass boxes with a panoramic view of the city skyline. The CFO, the CEO, half a dozen board members, and a handful of lawyers all rose to greet me with polite handshakes. There were murmurs of “Dom, congratulations” or “This is a monumental day.”
I forced polite nods, but the hollowness in my gut only grew.
“Come in, have a seat,” the CEO said, gesturing to a plush leather chair at the head of the table. That used to be my spot. For the final time, I sat there, hooking my fingertips under the armrests to keep them from trembling.
“We appreciate you coming in person to finalize everything,” the CFO began, folding his hands. “Your contributions have been invaluable, and we’re honored to take the reins from here.”
