She smiled when he pinched her chin. “I will. See you soon.”

* * *

Hours later, Drake was on his way to meet Love when he heard a familiar voice call his name. His day had sucked. The afternoon spent in the emergency department intubating patients had put him in a sour mood. But he’d rather be flipping burgers than dealing with the man behind him.

“I see you’re on your way out,” Dr. Lawrence Jackson said. “Don’t you have some time for your father?”

Drake turned to face him. “Dad. What brings you here?”

Although his father was on staff at the University Hospital, he’d been traveling in recent years, consulting on cases at several top hospitals and delivering fiery speeches at medical schools across the nation.

“You would know why I’m here if you’d answer my many phone calls.”

Drake’s father wasn’t one for a random check-in call or visit. There was always a reason behind his actions. Drake had spent most of his childhood avoiding the man, especially once he’d realized that nothing he did would ever be good enough for him. He’d worked his butt off in school, graduating at the top of his class at every stage of his education. But because he’d chosen to explore cardiothoracic surgery instead of joining the family specialty, his plastic surgeon father had made it clear that he had no use for him.

“I’m busy,” he told him. “Boards are soon, and I’ve been preparing for them.”

“And getting married.”

Drake paused, unsure how to respond. He guessed the gossip mill had churned all day after his display earlier. “Dad, can we talk about this later? I’m on my way to meet Love.”

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“Your wife.” His father shook his head slowly, staring at him with a stony expression in his eyes. That familiar look of disappointment seemed etched on his face. “When did you decide to ruin your life and career, son?”

Drake sighed heavily. “What makes you think I’ve done that?”

His father explained the phone call he’d received from Love’s dad earlier in the week. The two had actually conversed about the “monumental” mistake their offspring had made in getting married. Dr. Leon had apparently gone on about how Love was his baby girl and he didn’t want Drake breaking his daughter’s heart.

“Is she pregnant?” his father asked.

Drake shook his head. “Are you crazy? No.”

He regretted his words and tone the minute he’d used them. But his dad tended to take him there. Every lecture, every criticism served to put him on the edge of a small window ledge.

“Watch your mouth,” Dr. Jackson warned.

Drake shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why would you even say that? That would imply that I only married her because she’s having my baby.”

“I had to ask. Leon is wealthy, but he’s not of my stature.”

His father’s air of superiority rankled Drake. There were all these unwritten rules for a Jackson. Too bad there weren’t rules against knocking up a woman that’s not your wife, then basically paying her to give up custody of her child to his unfeeling father. That’s what Dr. Lawrence Jackson had done to Drake’s mother, after all. And although he’d never had the chance to really know his mother, Drake had always imagined how different his life would have been if his father wasn’t such a domineering jerk.

The only contact he’d had with his mother’s family was a maternal grandmother who’d visit from time to time. Grammy had been a breath of fresh air for Drake and when she’d died of a heart attack, he had become fascinated with the heart. It was that experience that lead him to declare his desire to go into cardiothoracic surgery, to the utter displeasure of his controlling father.

“Dad, you like Love.”

That much was true. His father, always one to point out everyone’s flaws, had never given him any indication that he didn’t like Love. In fact, he’d doted on her when they were near each other, offering her drinks and laughing heartily with her.

“Oh, I think she’s a lovely person. But I don’t agree with this farce of a marriage. Especially if it is going to hamper your ambitions. Leon already told me he moved you from a few key surgeries as a result.”

“And what did you say to him?”

Heaven forbid, his father would actually defend him. Drake and his siblings were an afterthought, a means to an end. As long as they did what he told them. His younger twin brothers were also surgical residents, studying plastic surgery. And his youngest sibling, his sister, was in her final year of undergraduate studies at University of Michigan. Her goal? To become a part of the family’s thriving plastic surgery practice. Drake and El were the only two who’d deviated from that preordained plan. El had chosen to go into emergency psychiatry.




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