The alarm never got the chance.
I was already awake, staring at the ceiling, chest tight with the familiar pull of anxiety.
I didn’t want to be here. Not in this quiet apartment. Not alone.
I wanted to be across town, where two tiny daughters were probably stirring for their first milk, and where Ella—tired but resilient—was starting her day.
But I wasn’t there. I was here, alone, because…well…Ella and I hadn’t agreed on anything.
My career was also important. The hospital administrator job was hanging in front of me like bait, and any sign of distraction would give Bowan the edge.
Still, as I stepped into the shower and cranked the water hot enough to sting, the images followed me. Ella’s tired smile. Marissa’s tight grip on my pinky. Summer’s soft breathing against my chest.
I clenched my jaw and let the heat bite into my skin.
Focus. Handle today.
The rest could wait.
By the time I stepped out, the mirror was nothing but fog. I swiped it clear with one hand and stared myself down. The silver at my temples had been there for years, a sharp contrast to the dark strands still holding on. My body was still solid—broad shoulders, a chest that could handle a fight or a full shift on my feet. But the eyes staring back at me?
They’d seen a lot. Done a lot.
And now, they were asking the same question I couldn’t shake.
Am I really ready to be a dad again?
The wind clawed at my tie as I crossed the parking lot. Inside, the hospital hit me like muscle memory—fluorescent lights, antiseptic air, controlled chaos.
“Morning, Dr. Mortoli.” A nurse handed me a chart as I scanned the triage board. Gunshot wound. Stroke. Panic attack. Business as usual.
I dove in, head down, moving from bay to bay, treating, diagnosing, keeping everything professional. But every quiet second, my mind drifted to that apartment across town. To two newborns and the woman fighting through the fog alone.
By noon, hunger slammed into me. I ducked into the lounge, unwrapped a protein bar, but appetite wasn’t in the cards. Not today.
Because no matter how hard I tried to lock it away, the memory of Ella was right there.
The kiss.
Soft, hesitant at first. Then deeper. Real. The way her breath had caught, the way her fingers had curled into my shirt. It wasn’t just heat. It was need. Hunger. The same as mine.
The taste of her was still on my lips, distracting me every damn second.
I was in the middle of unwrapping the bar when a nurse flagged me down. “Dr. Mortoli, we need you in bay four.”
I sighed and tossed the bar onto the counter, hurrying to bay four, where a post-op patient was having complications.
Even now, as I scanned the vitals, my mind wandered back to the weight of Ella against me. The way she’d trembled, like part of her still wanted me—despite the walls she kept building.
And just like that, I was wrecked all over again.
I needed to get my head on straight. I had work to do, patients depending on me, and a rival waiting to eat me alive.
But all I could think about was going back to that apartment. Back to her.
My mind lagged a fraction of a second behind. That fraction was all it took.
“Dr. Mortoli, you there?” a voice asked.
I blinked back to reality. “Hmm? What?”
“Wrong dosage.” A nurse smiled as he reminded me.
Fuck. Horror shot through me. It wasn’t a lethal error, but it was an error all the same. If I hadn’t been corrected, the patient could have suffered serious side effects.
Heat washed over my face, a blend of embarrassment and fury at myself. If Seth had seen that…
It took another hour to stabilize that patient. When I finally stepped away, my heart was pounding. I retreated to my office and sank into the chair, running a trembling hand through my hair. My tie felt like a noose.
I hadn’t made a mistake like that in years. Years. I prided myself on clarity under pressure and on never letting my personal life bleed into my performance. But here I was, screwing up because I couldn’t stop worrying about two tiny humans who needed me.
And Ella.
The door opened without a knock, and I straightened, expecting a resident with questions.
Instead, it was Seth Bowan. He closed the door behind him, crossing his arms. “You got a minute?”
I tensed, not trusting the quasi-polite tone. “If this is about the department meeting, I’ll be there.”
He shook his head, stepping closer. “No, it’s about the near-miss in bay four.”
My jaw clenched. How the hell did he know about that? Didn’t matter. Maybe the nurse told him, or maybe someone else did. Regardless, he knew.
I cleared my throat. “It’s handled.”
“Barely,” he retorted. “Dominic. That was sloppy. You’re lucky a nurse caught it.”
“I’m aware.”
He studied me for a beat, eyes narrowed. “I’m not here to gloat. But you should know, if the admin board gets wind that you’re messing up basic dosage—”
“I said I’m aware,” I growled, cutting him off. “I don’t need you to lecture me.”
Seth grimaced. “Fine. Don’t make me win the admin role because you screwed up the basics. When I win, I want you clear-headed so you know I beat you at your best. I want my win to haunt you for the rest of your life, so get your head in the game.”
With that, he turned on his heel and left, leaving me with my fists clenched at my sides, fury and guilt storming in my chest.
The rest of the shift, I moved like I was defusing bombs—no risks, no slip-ups. But the damage was done. Doubt was already creeping in. By the time my shift ended, my nerves were frayed.
As I was about to leave, my phone buzzed. Gina’s name flashed on the screen. Dread and relief tangled in my gut.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.
“Dad! Just checking in. Are we still good for brunch on Sunday?”
I let out a measured breath. “Yes, absolutely. But it has to be at my apartment this time.”
She made a disappointed sound. “How come? I miss the house. I was thinking of bringing some swatches for us to go over.”
Damn. “I’m on call this weekend,” I lied. “Can’t leave the city, just in case.”
“It’s not that far, and you used to drive up there all the time.”
“I know,” I said, forcing a chuckle. “But I really can’t leave the city right now. It’s complicated.”
“Everything’s always complicated with your work.” She sighed, making me feel worse. “But I get it. It’s work. Work always comes first.”
Something I’d told her since childhood. Something I hoped to never tell the twins. “Yeah. I’m sorry—”
“It’s fine, but I’m bringing extra pastries. Oh, and Leo’s been complaining about your coffee machine at the apartment. Want me to bring a new one?”
I winced at the mention of Leo. “Sounds good. Looking forward to it.”
There was a pause, like she expected me to say something more. And I almost did. The words bobbed on my tongue, thick with significance. You have twin sisters.
We said our goodbyes, and when the call ended, I was left staring at the black screen, feeling like a coward.
I dropped the phone in my pocket, the weight of my secrets pressing heavily on my chest.
