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you’re back,” she murmured into the awkward silence. At least it was awkward on her part. She had no idea what he was thinking.
“Uh-huh. I finished my fellowship a few weeks ago. Went to Europe for a vacation, then came here.”
A European vacation? She thought about how she’d spent the past month—as she’d spent the past seven or eight years. Working, dealing with whatever disaster her mother created, checking on the store. She had friends she hung out with, and she’d recently joined a book club, but now that she thought about it, her life lacked any level of excitement.
Not that she cared about impressing Dylan Harrington, she told herself. She didn’t.
“You’re still going to join your dad’s practice?” she asked, already knowing the answer to the question.
“Yes.”
“I thought you might change your mind.”
“Me, too.” He flashed her a smile. “But I didn’t want to break his heart.”
Because Dylan’s dad had spent the past decade waiting to say, “My son, the doctor.” Once he could, it was something he repeated endlessly. He’d told everyone who would listen that Dylan would be joining his practice. She supposed most fathers wanted their sons to go into the family business. Doctor and Son, she thought, imagining the sign outside the front door.
“You stopped working for him,” he said.
She glanced at him, then away. “Yes.”
Until last fall, she’d been one of Dr. Harrington’s nurses. Mostly because he was the only doctor in town and she’d hadn’t wanted to commute to the mainland. But with Dylan potentially returning, she’d wondered about job security. Fortunately, Andi had moved to town and decided to open her pediatric practice, giving Nina the perfect job.
“Like working with kids?” he asked, obviously aware of where she’d landed.
“Yes. There are enough families on the island to keep us busy, but not so many that we’re swamped. Andi’s great to work with.”
“Did you leave because of me?” he asked, stopping at the corner and checking before making the turn.
A blunt question she hadn’t expected. “I was excited about the opportunity with Andi,” she said, sidestepping the issue. In truth, she would have left regardless. There was no way she could spend day after day with Dylan. Talk about weird. He’d been her first boyfriend, her first time, her first broken heart. He was a good-looking guy, a doctor, and it was just a matter of time until he fell in love and got married. Not that she wanted him for herself, but she sure didn’t want anyone thinking she was hanging around, pining.
She leaned back in the seat and sighed. Why hadn’t she planned better? This would be so much less awkward if she’d married some rich guy, preferably with a yacht. Or moved to Tibet to open an orphanage. Something remarkable and important. She could at least be studying to be a neurosurgeon. Instead, she was a nurse in a pediatrician’s office, and her romantic past had little to recommend it. She had been married once. For five days. Not exactly her proudest moment.
She and Dylan were supposed to have been doctors together, she thought grimly. That’s what they had talked about. Going to medical school and opening a practice. She hadn’t decided on her specialty, and he’d thought he would go into emergency medicine.
But then they’d broken up, and somehow finding the money to follow her dreams had become impossible. Between dealing with her mom and her baby sister, the store and everything else, she’d lost her way. Nursing school had been so much more practical. She’d only needed two years away at a four-year university. She couldn’t remember making the decision—somehow life had happened.
Dylan pulled into the driveway of her house. Rain still pounded on the windshield, and she wasn’t looking forward to the dash into the house. Not with her scrubs clinging to every bulge and him watching. Just as unfortunate, she could see the general shabbiness of the house from where she sat. It hadn’t changed at all in the past ten years. It needed paint and a new roof. She’d had plans for both, but a plumbing disaster last October had pretty much sucked up her savings.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said, turning to him and offering a smile she hoped looked pleasant and confident. “Great timing. It would have been a long, ugly walk home. I’m sorry for dripping on your seats.”
“They’ll be fine. Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
Before she could respond, he was getting out of the driver’s side and walking around the car. What? He was coming with her?
She quickly scrambled out and met him on the walkway. “I’m fine. You don’t need to come in. Seriously. Go on with what you were doing. You saved me from the long walk home. That should be enough for one day.”
He gave her an easy smile and put his hand on the small of her back. “For someone soaking wet and cold, you’re sure arguing a lot.”
Then they were moving toward the front door, and she was opening it. As she stepped inside, she kicked off her soggy shoes. Dylan moved past her. She tugged off her socks and dropped her purse on the tiles of the foyer before walking barefoot into the living room.
She was aware of several things at once. First, there was a suspicious dampness in the stained ceiling in the corner. As she watched, a single drop fell onto the carpet below. Which meant her mother hadn’t called about the roof. Tim, their general handyman, was always timely about taking care of whatever crisis they had. So if the roof was still leaking, he hadn’t been told he was needed.
Second, she realized she couldn’t remember the last time a man had walked into their house. Well, a man-man, not a service guy. Dylan looked tall and masculine. Very out of place in a room crowded with too much furniture and “treasures” from the store. Every corner, every shelf and all surfaces were littered with figurines, wooden or glass boxes, picture frames and vases that her mother couldn’t stand to sell. In Bonnie’s mind, some objects were meant to be shared with the world and others were meant to be saved for family.
Last, and maybe most unsettling, was how having Dylan standing in the living room made her see just how scruffy everything had become.
The sofa was old and worn, with permanent dents in the cushions where they sat night after night. Nicks and dings marred the coffee table. The lampshades had faded from cream to a dingy yellow.
Nina stared at the room as if she’d never seen it before, shocked by how she’d ceased to see what was all around her. For a second, she had the realization that her hopes and dreams had suffered the same kind of neglect, becoming invisible due to inattention. Sadness swept through—the loss nearly painful enough to make her gasp.
“I’ll wait while you get changed,” Dylan said, walking over to one of the chairs and sitting down, as if he planned to stay a while.
She blinked at him. Why? Then she felt the damp chill of her clothes and water dripping down her back from her hair.
“Sure,” she told him, then hurried toward the hall, feeling the burn of wet cotton rubbing against her skin.
Ten minutes later she was in jeans and a sweatshirt. She’d done the best she could with her hair, towel drying it before combing it. She wasn’t going to take the time to blow-dry it. That would imply... She wasn’t sure what, but either way, she wasn’t going there. She shoved her feet into flats and went back to the living room.
Dylan sat where she’d left him. He stood as she came into the room. “Better?”
“Much.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “You didn’t have to stay.”
“I thought we could catch up. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
Simple words that genuinely confounded her. The obvious question was why? Why would he want to catch up? They hadn’t seen each other in forever, and aside from living on the island, they had nothing in common.