Closets were not made for grown men.
Especially not six-foot-two doctors with broad shoulders and a mild claustrophobia problem.
I hit the nursery floor with a grunt, one leg twisted awkwardly in what I suspected was a receiving blanket, my elbow jamming painfully into a bin of pacifiers. Dignity? Gone. Airflow? Questionable. My ego? Bruised in multiple places.
I stared at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that I hadn’t just spent fifteen minutes folded like a lawn chair in a space the size of a carry-on suitcase.
I groaned, peeling the blanket off my leg and sitting up slowly. The nursery smelled like lavender lotion and baby wipes. It was silent. The girls were still asleep. Peaceful. Unlike me, who was sweating through a pink tank top that was very much not mine.
Ella appeared in the doorway a second later, arms crossed, mouth twitching as she fought back a laugh.
“You good?” she asked, one brow arching.
I ran a hand through my hair. “Define good.”
She shook her head, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. “You fell out of the closet.”
“I’m aware.”
She leaned against the crib, clearly enjoying herself. “That was a dramatic exit.”
I couldn’t help but grin back. God, she was beautiful. Even rumpled in her robe, hair wild and cheeks flushed from the stress of our little comedy of errors, she looked like the best part of my day.
“Did Carrie suspect anything?” I asked, quieter now, as I adjusted the blanket that had somehow attached itself to my ass.
“No,” she said, still smiling. “But we need to talk.’
My grin faded, just a little. “That’s never a good sentence.”
She gave me a look. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to kick you out or say we made a huge mistake. But I need to know what that was back there.”
My grin faded. “Yeah,” I said, pushing to my feet. “I figured you would.”
Her mouth twitched. “You panicked and dove into a closet like we were teenagers sneaking around.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Right.”
“Dom…” she softened, stepping forward, her robe brushing against my bare arm. “I get it. Seth’s your coworker. Carrie’s his wife. You want to keep your personal life out of the hospital gossip mill.”
I nodded once. “That’s part of it.”
“But it felt like more than that.”
I swallowed hard. “We’re up for the same promotion. We are not friends.”
She shrugged. “What’s that got to do with you hiding?”
“You were my patient, Ella. If they find out—”
Her lips parted. “Oh,” she whispered, eyes widening as it sank in.
I exhaled hard, dragging a hand through my hair. “Seth and I have hated each other for years. But this? If word gets out that I was with someone I treated in the ER—someone who gave birth to my children the night I was on shift—he’ll bury me. No admin job, no credibility, nothing. My entire reputation would be shot.”
She was quiet for a beat, just watching me. The teasing edge had vanished, replaced by something deeper—concern, maybe guilt.
“I wasn’t thinking about the hospital,” she murmured. “I was just thinking… we were hiding you from my best friend.”
I tilted my head, watching her. “Is that why you wanted me to hide in the closet? To keep me from Carrie?”
She opened her mouth, then shut it again. For a second, I thought she might lie, but instead she glanced toward the sleeping babies and lowered her voice. “Can we talk somewhere else? I don’t want to wake them.”
I nodded, following her as she padded quietly out of the nursery and into the living room. The soft light from the kitchen spilled over her shoulders, casting everything in a hazy warmth. She dropped onto the couch with a tired sigh, pulling her robe tighter. I sat beside her, waiting.
She rubbed her hands over her knees, as if buying time. “I never told Carrie you were their father,” she admitted, voice low. “When I got pregnant, I just… kept it vague. She knew I’d met someone on vacation, but I didn’t say who.”
I frowned. “Why?”
She hesitated, chewing on her lip, eyes flicking toward the window like the answer might be written in the city skyline. “Because I was embarrassed,” she said finally. “About the whole thing. A one-night stand with an older man I barely knew… it didn’t exactly sound like the setup to a happily-ever-after.”
I let the words hang there, my jaw tightening—not at her, but at how small she looked saying it, like she expected me to judge her for it.
“Ella,” I said, leaning in, my voice low and steady. “You don’t ever have to be embarrassed about me. Or about them. We’re not some mistake that needs hiding.”
Her eyes flicked back to mine, uncertain. But she didn’t look away.
She tucked a knee beneath her and turned to face me fully, her eyes searching mine. “So… are you willing to let Seth know? Because if I tell Carrie, he’s going to find out. There’s no way around that.”
I sat back slightly, the question hitting harder than I expected. My jaw clenched as I looked away for a beat, running a hand down my face. “Not yet.”
Her brows drew together. “Not ever? Or… just not now?”
I met her gaze again. “Just give me a little more time. I’m this close to locking in the administrator role. If Seth finds out I had a personal relationship with a patient—no matter how complicated the situation was—it’ll be over. He’ll use it to bury me.”
She was quiet for a moment, chewing her bottom lip like she was trying to bite down a dozen thoughts.
“Is the promotion really that important?” she asked softly.
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Especially now.”
She blinked, caught off guard by how quickly I answered.
I leaned in, brushing my fingers over hers. “It’s not about the money. You know I don’t need this job for that.”
Her brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t speak.
“This promotion… it’s about proving I still have something to offer. That I’m not done. That I can still lead, still build something meaningful. I’ve built companies, teams, and systems—but this hospital? It’s personal. I’ve given twenty years of my life to it. And now, with the girls here, with you… I want to show them what it means to fight for something that matters. I want to make them proud.”
Her eyes softened. “So this is about legacy.”
I nodded. “Exactly. It’s not about the title. It’s about who I get to be—for them.”
Ella smiled softly at my words, that little dimple of hers showing. It felt like the air shifted—lighter, less tense.
Then I added, “Also, I heard you and Carrie talking about a nanny.”
Her brow arched. “You were eavesdropping now, too?”
“I was trapped in a goddamn closet. I didn’t exactly have a choice.” I gave her a crooked grin. “But it’s a good idea.”
Her lips quirked. “You think I should hire a stranger to watch the twins?”
“I think,” I said, moving in closer, “we need a night out. Just you and me. Somewhere no one knows us. Somewhere we’re not parents or coworkers or secrets. Just… two people who really want to see where this goes.”
She looked at me for a long moment. “A real date?”
“A real date,” I confirmed. “No hospital scrubs. No baby monitors. Just us. Maybe even some bad lighting and overpriced cocktails.”
Ella laughed, the sound like a balm after everything we’d been through. “I don’t even know if I remember how to flirt.”
I pulled her on top of my lap, my mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “Lucky for you, I do.”
She shivered, just slightly, and tilted her face up to mine. “Dom…”
“I never got to finish what I started this morning,” I murmured, letting my hand drift to the knot of her robe. “You said yes, remember?”
Her breath hitched. “I remember.”
My mouth found hers, slow at first, deepening as her hands slid up my chest. The robe slipped open, and my hand found her waist, pulling her flush against me. God, the feel of her body still made me dizzy. She melted into me, and I was already hard again, ready to lose myself in her.
Straddling my lap, her robe parted just enough to drive me insane. Our mouths moved in sync—hungry, unfiltered, the kiss deepening until I was dizzy with need. My hands slid up her thighs, slow and teasing, and then one found its way between them.
She gasped as my fingers brushed over her slick heat.
I found her clit and circled it, slow at first, then firmer, just the way I remembered she liked. Her hips rolled instinctively, chasing the friction.
Ella let her head fall back with a moan, lips parted, hair tumbling wild over her shoulders.
“God, Dom,” she whispered, voice wrecked and breathy.
I growled softly, tightening my grip around her waist, wanting—needing—to feel her come apart in my arms all over again.
Then—
The piercing wail of one very awake baby cut through the air.
We both froze.
Ella let out a frustrated laugh, forehead dropping to my shoulder. “Every. Time.” She laughed, pressing a quick kiss to my temple before turning toward the nursery.
“Yeah,” I muttered, adjusting myself with a sigh. “But damn, it was worth the attempt.”
