PACKING UP HER apartment proved to be difficult. Jillian was thankful that Briana had gotten quite a bit done for her before she’d had to leave, and that now Michelle had been willing to stop by after work to help with the things she couldn’t possibly do with one hand.
“I really appreciate this,” Jill said, running the packing tape dispenser across a box as Michelle held the flaps closed. “Clothes and stuff weren’t hard, and even putting things into the boxes just took me some extra time. But getting them secured and stacked? No way.”
“Happy to help.” Michelle lifted the box and put it on top of the others waiting for the moving company that would arrive at any minute. “But you know I’m still wondering if this is really what you want to do.”
“It is. I’m sure.”
Well, maybe she wasn’t completely sure she wanted to leave New York. But did she want to have to see Conor’s handsome face and infectious smile and think about how good it had felt to be together again for a few wonderful days? Think about how much she still loved him?
She briefly closed her eyes, picturing the face she missed so much, and swallowed down the stupid tears that threatened. Just as Conor himself had said, sometimes love wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t. He had demons that he didn’t seem to want to battle, and she had her own. And even if she got a grip on hers, and felt she was making progress, she knew for certain now that if they tried once more it would end up in heartbreak for both of them all over again.
Not a place either of them wanted to go.
“I know from stuff you’ve said that you’ll miss the city,” said Michelle. “And I think it’s wrong to let Conor McCarthy run you off if you don’t want to go.”
“He’s not running me off. I’m choosing to go.”
“Uh-huh? You’re not kidding me. There was a new smile in your eyes when you two were seeing each other again—until he acted like an idiot, as usual.”
“He’s not an idiot. Just a guy with some issues. And I’m not sticking around to try to fix him, getting hurt all over again in the process. I’m going to concentrate on fixing myself. You should be glad about that.”
“I don’t know how much fixing you need, Jill. I think you’re already there. As for Conor? He may have those issues you talk about, but he’s more than worth fixing, in my opinion.”
Yes, he was. But he didn’t believe he could be fixed. And shoring up her own confidence had to be her priority—not trying to help a man who didn’t believe he could be helped.
“It’s too late for us,” she said softly. “It just is.”
Michelle sighed and moved another box. “What about leaving the city? You love it here.”
“I do love New York. But the new place has lots of good things going for it.”
She glanced out her front window and knew it was true that she’d miss this city. Yes, it was expensive, and crowded, and sometimes crazy, but there was no place like it and it felt like home to her. Even more after she’d moved into Conor’s apartment for those first months they’d been deliriously, happily, married.
A sprinkle of raindrops began hitting the window and streaking down, and she held in a sigh. How appropriate that the unusually warm early December weather she’d enjoyed with Conor had given way to cold, gray drizzle this past week. It definitely reflected her mood. Hopefully the movers would have a way to keep her things dry as they packed them into their truck.
She turned back to Michelle and forced a smile. “Anyway, I can come back and visit New York any time, right? Expect me to bunk in with you about every three months or so.”
“Uh…with the dogs?” Michelle shook her head and grinned. “Don’t know that my roommate would be willing to share her bedroom with them—and there’s only room for you and me in mine.”
Jill laughed, glad to move the subject to safe ground that didn’t make her heart hurt for something that couldn’t be. “I’ll find a kennel where they’ll be happy before I visit, don’t worry.”
“Ready for us?”
She turned to see two guys in her doorway, wearing matching shirts with the moving company’s name on them. “Yes. We have a couple more boxes to close, but you can start to load up things while we do that, right?”
“Absolutely.” He leaned down to scratch the heads of the greeting committee, known as Hudson and Yorkie, who were nosing the man’s legs and wagging their tails. “Great dogs. The big one reminds me of mine.”
“They are good dogs. Most of the time.”
“So, the plan is to store your stuff in the truck overnight, then we leave in the morning. Right?”
“Right.”
Tomorrow morning. The first day of her new life.
She managed to smile at the man before she and Michelle got busy packing the last few things in the kitchen as the men moved boxes and furniture.
Jill suddenly remembered the small bag of Conor’s clothes he’d accidentally left that first day, when he’d brought her here after her surgery. She wanted to give it to Michelle, to take to work with her so she could return them. She didn’t want to just give them to a charity shop, but also she definitely didn’t want to call Conor to come get them. Their goodbye had been utterly final, and seeing one another again even for a moment would just dredge up those sad feelings all over again.
She moved into the bedroom and picked up the bag, then hesitated. The old T-shirt that he’d worn to exercise and walk the dogs poked up from the top of the bag and she tugged it out. Held it to her nose and closed her eyes to breathe in his scent. The smell she loved and that she’d never get to enjoy again.
Even as she told herself it was pathetic she opened the suitcase she’d packed, so she’d have the basics handy at her new place, and folded the shirt inside. Zipped it closed even as she scolded herself that the last thing she needed was his shirt to wear. Something that would remind her of him at her new place and in her new life.
But she’d be thinking of him anyway, wouldn’t she? Maybe in some strange way wearing his shirt would be a source of comfort instead of sadness.
With a sigh, Jill carried the bag holding his other things to the living room. “I just remembered I have some of Conor’s stuff. Will you take this to work and give it to him?”
Michelle looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Sure. I’ve finished the last of the kitchen utensils. I think that’s everything.”
“Thanks.”
She watched Michelle stack the box next to the door that was still propped wide open after the men had carried out the sofa. Then she realized that Hudson was lounging in his bed, but there was no sign of Yorkie.
“Where’s Yorkie?”
She and Michelle looked all around the small apartment, and when it was clear he wasn’t there a feeling of panic welled in her chest.
“Oh, my God, could he have gotten out?”
“I’ll look in the stairwell,” Michelle said.
“I’m coming, too.” Jill shut the door behind them so there was no chance Hudson would follow.
When there was no sign of Yorkie on any of the staircases her hands began to shake and the feeling of panic grew.
“He must be out on the street! Who knows where he’ll run? And he’s so tiny…he could easily get hit by a car.”
“Where do you usually walk him? Maybe he’ll follow that route.”
“I don’t have a specific route, really,” she said, trying to think through the cold fear clouding her mind. “I wonder if Conor did? He walked them a few times the day he was here.”
“I’ll call Conor and ask. Maybe he can give you some insight.”
Jill’s heart jolted. The last thing she wanted was to have to talk to Conor, but this was an emergency, and her feelings weren’t nearly as important as finding Yorkie.
“Conor’s not answering his cell. I’ll call the answering service,” Michelle said.
“Yorkie! Yorkie!” Jill hurried to the moving truck, calling to the men inside. “My little dog got out when the door was left open. Do you know where he is?”
“No. Damn—sorry about that. I didn’t see him if he followed us.”
Jill ran up the street, craning her neck and calling the dog’s name with Michelle by her side, her phone still pressed to her ear.
“I need to speak with Dr. Conor McCarthy immediately,” Michelle said. “It’s an emergency.”
* * *
“Here are the numbers I believe we can generate in the first year,” Conor said as he handed everyone assembled in the boardroom the folders holding the calculations and projections he’d worked on for over six months. “The location next to HOAC is perfect for Urgent Care Manhattan to become well established as the place to go for non-life-threatening injuries and illnesses. No other urgent care clinic is situated within a twenty-block area, but there’s a hospital only a few blocks away. If you needed to refer your patients there for things you can’t take care of it would be easy to do.”
“I agree the location is perfect,” Peter Stanford said, addressing everyone in the room. “For all the reasons Dr. McCarthy just noted and because we can send patients directly to HOAC if they need to see an orthopedic surgeon. I believe that when we advertise that advantage a lot of patients with possible broken bones will want to come to Urgent Care Manhattan instead of our competitors.”
Conor listened to the board members as they asked Peter various questions. Also asked their accountants about the numbers Conor had presented, and addressed some contract questions to their lawyer. For some reason he found he had to keep making himself refocus on the conversation. How that was possible he didn’t know, because he’d worked on this project for so long he should be zeroing in on every word. Instead thoughts of Jill kept drifting into his mind, adding to the ache that still hung in his chest from the night they’d said goodbye.
He’d heard through the grapevine that she was leaving New York today. Taking the dogs and moving to another state. It was unlikely he’d ever see any of them again.
It was what he wanted. For her to find a new life and a new beginning that made her happy. The kind of happiness he’d failed so miserably to provide. So why did his heart feel every bit as heavy as the night he’d walked out her door?
He didn’t know. And it made him wonder how long it would take for him to feel even a little more normal. Which was the best he knew he could hope for, because he was absolutely certain he’d miss Jillian’s lovely face and warm smile and beautiful heart forever.
He managed to focus his attention long enough to answer some of the board members’ questions, but as two of them started to disagree over a few of the details his cell phone buzzed with its emergency call chime. He never answered his phone during meetings and he frowned, wondering what the problem could be, since he wasn’t on call.
“Excuse me a moment,” he murmured as he grabbed the phone and stood to step to the other side of the room.
“Conor McCarthy.”
“Conor! It’s Michelle.”
Her voice sounded breathless and scared and his heart dropped straight into his stomach before it began racing. “What’s wrong? Is Jill hurt?”
“No, it’s Yorkie. He got out of the apartment when the moving guys were taking out the furniture. We’re out here looking for him and Jill wondered if you’d taken him on any specific route when you walked him. We thought maybe he’d follow it if you did.”
Damn! “Is she there? Let me talk to her.”
“Okay—here…”
A muffled sound, then Jill was on the line.
“Conor? Oh, God, I’m so worried. Do you have any idea where he might go?”
His fingers tightened on his phone, because even sounding tense the voice he’d thought he’d never hear again slipped inside his wounded heart. “I don’t. But let me think a minute.”
“Call me if you come up with anything. I’ve got to go.”
“Wait.”
He stared out the window at the rain streaming down the glass, at the bright flash of lightning in the sky. Heard Jilly’s voice sounding so panicked. Without another thought, he knew he had to help her through this scare. Help find little Yorkie, lost in this storm. The dog had been his once, too, and he had to be there for both Jillian and Yorkie when they needed him most.
“I’ll be right there to help you look. I’ll call after I park the car and find out where you are.”
“Okay.”
She hung up and he strode back to the meeting. “I’m afraid an emergency has come up and I have to leave. Please continue to go over the numbers and call me with any questions you might have.”
“We’d hoped to finalize this tonight—it’s important that you be here to answer those questions,” Peter said, his eyebrows raised. “If it’s a patient, surely there’s another surgeon who can take over for you?”
“It’s not a patient. It’s my dog. He’s lost and I have to go help find him.”
Everyone in the room stared at him with varying degrees of surprise and disbelief on their faces.
Peter sent him a thunderous frown. “Your dog? Surely someone else can look for it?”
“They need my help.”
“It seems to me perhaps you shouldn’t plan to be president of this new company we’d be creating with the merger, then, if this meeting can’t take priority over a pet.”
“Maybe that’s true. Sorry, Peter, but I’ve got to go.”
Conor bolted to his car, waiting to be singed by gnawing regret. By worry that the deal that had been his priority for so long would fall through because of this. That all his hard work, all the money he and others would make as they improved and expanded patient care, was about to go straight out the window.
It didn’t come. Even though his chest was tight with worry for Yorkie, it felt strangely light, too. As if he’d thrown a thousand-pound monster from his shoulders and was finally free of it. A monster that had been hanging there, controlling him, for way too long.
He wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but figuring it out had to take a back seat to the current emergency.
Right now Jillian and Yorkie were his priorities, and he drove as fast as he could through the traffic and rain, parked in the garage near her apartment and ran out to the streets.
“Yorkie! Yorkie!”
He strode toward the nearby park that the dogs liked, though he assumed Jill had probably gone there first.
He pulled out his phone to call and find out. “I’m near the park close to your apartment. Where are you?”
“Michelle and I were there maybe fifteen minutes ago. Didn’t see him. We’re a few blocks over. I don’t know how we’re going to find him.”
Her voice ended on a near-sob, and if he hadn’t already wanted desperately to find the little pup her distress would have made him even more determined.
“I’ll look here again, then call back, and we’ll make a plan. Hang in there.”
He strode through the small park, looking beneath the many shrubs and trees around its perimeter and in the thick groups near a few benches. “Yorkie! Yorkie!”
Bending over, he peered through a hedge that lined the brick wall, then did a double take, blinking the raindrops from his eyes. He looked again, and there, shining within the leaves, was a set of beady little eyes staring at him.
He crouched down and held out his hand. “Yorkie! It’s me! Come on—you’re okay. Come out now.”
Conor held his breath as the dog just stared at him. He worried that Yorkie might be afraid and disoriented after he’d run off, and schooled his voice into a croon.
“Come on, now, big guy. Your mama is trying to find you. How about a treat? A nice treat?”
He drew the syllables out, the way Jill did when she talked to Yorkie, and sure enough the dog took a few halting steps closer. Close enough that Conor was able to quickly reach in, grab him, and pull him close to his chest.
A giant breath of relief whooshed from his lungs. The poor, wet dog was shivering, and he tucked him inside his coat. “There you go. You need to warm up.”
Yorkie whimpered, and Conor knew there were two priorities—one was to get the dog dried off and warm, and the other was to let Jillian know he had him safe.
Making sure he had a tight grip on the pup, he used his other hand to fish his phone from his pocket. “Jill? I have him. He was hiding under some shrubs in the park. Yes, he’s okay. Just cold and wet. I’ll meet you at your apartment.”
“Oh, my gosh!” Her voice came on a new sob. “Thank you! We’ve doubled back toward my apartment building, thinking he might have tried to go home. So we’re almost there now.”
Conor talked to the dog as he walked and, now that he had him safe, spared a rueful thought for his clothes. A wet and muddy dog, not to mention pouring rain, just might ruin his suit—but he couldn’t worry about that. He could buy a new suit, but finding the dog he loved and keeping the woman he loved from being scared and sad…
That was worth anything.
As he approached the front door of Jillian’s apartment building he could see her running toward him through the gray rain and his heart jolted.
“Don’t run! You could easily slip and fall on the wet pavement! I’ve got him and he’s not getting away, I promise.”
“Oh, Conor!”
She flung her arms around him and he wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her close. Both of them were soaked, but apparently she didn’t care anymore than he did.
Water dripped from her sopping hair down her forehead and cheeks as she leaned up to press her wet mouth to his. “I can’t believe you came. I can’t believe you found him. I was so scared he’d be lost forever. I owe you so much.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He was my dog once, too, and I care about him as much as you do.”
It was true, and as he stood there holding her in the rain it was all he could do not to tell her how much he loved her, and that he’d learned something beyond important tonight. That work could never, ever replace the love her felt for her. His need to be there for her. With her.
His fear for Yorkie, and for her, had been so powerful it had taken precedence over anything else—including the meeting he’d so stupidly thought was everything. It might have taken him way too long to see that bright truth, but he’d never make that mistake again.
Except standing in the rain, with a wet dog tucked into his coat and a shivering woman held close in his arms, wasn’t the best time to tell her all he’d learned and seen during the past hour.
“This reminds me of my all-time favorite moment in New York. Holding you in the rain in Central Park.”
“Except that day we had an umbrella. And we didn’t get soaking wet. And it wasn’t freezing cold.”
“True.” Her smiling eyes met his, and it was all he could do not to lean down and kiss her. “Let’s get inside out of this weather, hmm?”
She nodded, and when they got to the door a rained-on Michelle stood there. “Wow, you are amazing, Conor! I’m so happy you found him. I hope it’s okay with you, but I’m going back to my apartment to get dry clothes.” She grinned. “I admit I really want to just stay there and get warm in my jammies, but if you need me to come back and help finish packing in the morning, let me know.”
“Thanks, but I think it’s pretty much done,” Jillian said. “I appreciate all your help so much, and you looking for Yorkie. I’ll be in touch.”
The two women hugged, then Conor and Jillian took the elevator to her apartment.
“There’s a small problem,” Jill said, shoving her wet hair from her eyes. “All my stuff is packed in boxes on the truck. Towels, clothes—you name it. I don’t have any way for us to dry Yorkie, or you and me.”
“Well, that is a problem.”
He pulled Yorkie from his jacket and held him up. Both of them laughed at the way the poor pup looked as if he’d lost ten pounds, with his wet fur lying flattened against his little body, resembling an opossum more than a dog.
“You’re a troublemaker, you know that?” Conor told him.
The dog licked his wet nose and yipped, and both Conor and Jillian laughed again—until Conor sobered, knowing the things he wanted and needed to say to her might be coming way too late. But knowing his future happiness, his life’s happiness, depended on it.
“I… I have a lot of things I want to say to you.”
Her eyes met his for a long moment before she gave him a slow nod. “All right. But first let me see if there’s anything other than clothes in my suitcase to get York cleaned up.”
“Let’s use my shirt, first.” He set the dog on his feet and pulled off his suit jacket, then began to unbutton the shirt that was mostly dry except for where York had been held against his chest, leaving a muddy stain. “It’s probably ruined anyway.”
He rubbed the dog all over, and being as small as he was, the shirt and Yorkie’s repeated shaking, flinging droplets of rain around the room, seemed to do the trick.
“There. Bedraggled, but dry enough, I think.”
“Oh, Conor. I’m so sorry about your clothes.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Good news is I have a bag of things you left here.”
She picked it up and handed it to him, then bit her lip. “Um…there’s not a shirt in there, though. Let me…get it.”
He dug in the bag and saw sweatpants and socks and a few other things, before she came back holding his T-shirt. Their eyes met as he reached for it, wondering why it wasn’t in the bag with everything else.
“I kept it,” she blurted, as though she’d read his mind. “I know it’s stupid and silly, but I wanted to keep a little piece of you with me. Sorry I was going to steal it.”
He dropped the clothes, wanting so much to reach for her and hold her close, wet or not, but he knew he had to tell her what he’d learned first and see if she’d possibly believe him.
“Stupid? That would be me, Jillian. A man who loves you more than anything in this world but still walked away.”
“Conor…” she whispered. “It’s okay. We—”
“Let me finish.” He pressed his finger to her cold lips. “I let you go because I thought it was the best thing for you. Was sure it was because I’d proved over and over that I couldn’t be there for you the way you deserve. That there was something wrong with me—something missing inside. And then tonight I finally got a hard hit to the head that made me open my eyes. Made me see that wasn’t true at all.”
Her eyes were wide on his now, but she didn’t speak, and he reached for her shoulders and forged on.
“I was in the middle of a meeting with all the Urgent Care Manhattan board members, among others. About to close a deal I’ve been working on for a long time and that I thought was the most important thing to concentrate on. Critical to make it happen. But I was sitting there thinking of you, instead. Thinking of you moving today, and thinking how much I’d miss you, and how much I love you, and how much I wished I could be a different man.”
“And then…?”
“Then I got Michelle’s call about Yorkie. It scared me. And when I heard how scared you were I saw with an instant blinding clarity that I’ve been utterly wrong about so many things. That I’m not like my father at all. That you are the most important thing in the world. Way more than any work or money or investments could ever be. And that providing monetarily for you isn’t the best way to show my love for you. It was like lightning struck me, and burned into my brain that if I let you go that would be the one thing that would truly make me a failure.”
“You left the meeting?”
“I left the meeting,” he confirmed. “And as I did all the things I believed about myself and my life fell away, and I knew with absolute certainty that all I need in life is you. Not more businesses, not a bigger portfolio, not a bigger apartment. Just you.”
“Oh, Conor.” Her lips trembled and she wrapped her arms around him. “I’d told myself our relationship being over was a good thing. A chance for me to believe in myself, be confident in a man’s love for me someday, when I was ready to try a relationship again. But, listening to you now, I know for certain that you finally coming to believe in yourself was a process, the way mine was. And I believe we’re both there now in a way we weren’t before.”
Her words made it hard for him to breathe, and he had to try twice before he could speak. “I know I am. I know that I love you, Jilly. I know that I’ll always be here for you, and that I’ll never be that guy who failed you ever again.”
“And I’ll never be that woman who wonders if you really love her. Because I can see it, Conor.” Her voice wobbled as she smiled up at him. “I see the love I feel for you reflected right back. I see it so clearly I can hardly breathe from the happiness I feel right now. I love you. So much.”
Unable to speak, he pulled her close and buried his face in her wet hair, not caring that her clothes were damp and cold against his bare chest. They stood there for long minutes before he pulled back and kissed her sweet lips, and the taste of them made his throat close all over again.
He lifted her wet sweatshirt away from her skin before reaching for her cold hands. “I know you need to get into dry clothes, but I can’t wait even a few more minutes.” He swallowed down the emotion in his chest so he could ask what he desperately needed to know. “Will you marry me, Jill? Again? This time I’ll be the husband you deserve. I’ll be the man you want. I’ll be the man who is always there for you and who gives you everything you need—and I’m not talking about money. I’m talking about myself. I promise.”
“Yes, I’ll marry you. Again.” Her fingers tightened on his. “I’ll believe in you and I’ll always be there for you. I promise.”
Relief weakened his knees and he pulled her close, kissing her until the moist air around them seemed to steam and their wet clothes weren’t even close to cold anymore.
When they finally separated he smiled down at the beautiful face smiling back. “How about we get these wet clothes off before you catch a cold? Then a warm shower.”
“Sounds like very good medical advice, Dr. McCarthy.”
She gave him the impish grin he loved so much, and the fact that he’d get to see it every day of his life weakened his knees all over again.
“And here’s something you’ll be pleased about. I have my hair dryer in my suitcase, since you’re so good at using that.”
He tugged her shirt off over her head, grasped her hand and headed toward her bathroom. “I am pleased about that. And I’d like to show you other things I’m good at, too. Prove that I’ll always be good to you. What do you think about that?”
“I think being good to one another is the perfect way to begin our second chance together. Starting right now.”