Hot Latin Docs Collection. Tina Beckett
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“Have you ever thought of coming back?”
“What, to Miami? You mean, once I get deported when this whole marriage sham doesn’t work out?”
“No.” Amanda pressed her palm down, signaling Saoirse to keep it quiet. And she was right. Of course. Being the center of hospital gossip was the last thing she needed. “I meant, Murph, have you ever considered coming back to NICU?”
“Not really.” She’d been so intent on making her life look as different as she could when she’d moved here, a return to a job she had genuinely enjoyed hadn’t factored. “Why?”
“Well, there are a couple of reasons. And don’t think I’m saying this because I agree with you. You’ve been working your backside off these past few weeks and, I suspect, burning a bit of the naughty midnight oil with your new housemate, so you’re probably just—”
“I am not tired and emotional!” she whisper-growled. What was it with these Americans, flinging about their tireds and emotionals like they were going out of style? And so what if she was? There was no point in highlighting the bleedin’ obvious, was there?
“All I was going to say, if you could zip it for a minute and listen—” Amanda fixed her in her best shut-your-trap glare “—is that if you came back to NICU, even though I know it would be tough and you’d have to slay some demons, it would give you a bit more breathing space. You and Santi work together all day, then I don’t even know what all night. That’s a lot of together time.”
“You and James are always together!” Saoirse shot back defensively. She hated being the object of scrutiny, particularly with her cherished best friend hitting the nail on the head with every verbal blow.
“No, we’re not! I work here. He works at a law firm. Both of us work long hours. And mine are erratic, which means I see him even less. The reason I make him come swimming with me is so we have at least an hour together two or three times a week that isn’t filled with me trying to pry him away from the mountains of paperwork he’s always reading so we can afford our dream house and have our dream baby if he would ever, for once, not be so tired he falls asleep at the kitchen table. Or on the sofa. Or in the armchair. Am I painting a picture of reality here? Life’s not perfect. But you can find a way to make it work if you’re willing.”
She had a point, but Saoirse had worked herself up into a right old tizzy and that beast needed purging.
“If he’s sick of me already, then he’s certainly not going to want to fake marry me and have me mooning all over him until he can file divorce papers.” Even saying the words made her stomach surge in protest.
“In which case...” Amanda made a hear-me-out face. “If you transfer to NICU, maybe you could renew your student work visa and sign up for some specialty course? Quit shaking your head. That was the plan in the first place. Maybe in transplants—”
“No way!” Saoirse protested. “Santi’s brother does that. I am not going to spend my days with another Valentino if this goes south.”
“If,” Amanda repeated pointedly. “That’s the key word. And I’m pretty sure Alejandro’s single—”
Saoirse clapped a hand over her friend’s mouth in midflow. “I am not participating in another marriage that doesn’t happen and another career veer! And I am definitely not putting myself in the path of another Valentino. No. Way.”
“For goodness’ sake, Murphy! Look at the bright side, would you?”
“I’m not really seeing one right now, isn’t that obvious?” She swiped at another bonus spill of tears on her cheeks.
Without Santi in her life, it just didn’t feel like there could be a bright side. She’d be just as well returning to Ireland and living the life destiny had made for her. Spinsterhood and caring for children she would never have herself...
Santi was a man who would want children. She could see it in his eyes every time he picked up an injured child or sick baby. Just the sight of his large, capable hands cupping the head of an infant... Despite her best efforts, a sob of pure grief left her throat.
She could never give Santi a family of his own—so stealing two years of his life just so she could get a visa would be little short of cruel.
She vaguely saw Amanda zooming in and out of focus as her friend tried to get her attention back from Never, Never Get What You Want Land.
“You’ve got me as a friend!” Amanda chirped lamely.
Saoirse accepted the hug she was being pulled into, arms hanging limply by her sides. Amanda was right. She had a great friend...and a few weeks left on her current visa. Plenty of time—ish—to sort out something new. But if she was going to make the rest of her life something worth living, she would have to proceed with her dignity and pride intact, which meant there was only one course of action she could take.
Her mind made up, she gave her friend a grim smile. No point in testing the boundaries of Amanda’s friendship more than she already had.
“Go find James. I don’t want to mess with swim time.” She hooked her arm through Amanda’s, a feeling of determination taking hold. “I’ll walk you out.”
“You sure you’re going to be all right?” Worry was strong in her friend’s voice. “No going loop-the-loop or drowning your sorrows in a swimming pool of margaritas or anything stupid, right?”
“Absolutely not. I’m feeling better already,” Saoirse said solidly, turning their pace into a jaunty hop-skip. Faking it would have to work for now. “After all, we’re in Magic City!”
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