he come from? Where are you?” she shot out the questions rapid-fire.
“That’s Gunnar. He lives here.”
“Here where?” Natalie demanded.
“At George’s,” Sophy said reluctantly.
“At Daddy’s?” Lily demanded, sticking her face close to the screen to peer around the room eagerly. “Are you at Daddy’s?”
“Yes, but—”
“Where is he?”
“Yes, where is Daddy?” Natalie demanded, frowning her concern.
Sophy heard the archness in Natalie’s tone. “He’s in the hospital.” She tried to sound calm and matter-of-fact.
“Is Daddy okay?” Lily asked. “He’s okay, isn’t he, Mommy?”
“He will be,” Sophy assured her.
“So what are you doing at his place?” Natalie wanted to know.
“Feeding his dog. And taking a nap. In the guest room,” she added in case Natalie had other ideas.
Fortunately whatever ideas Natalie had she wasn’t sharing them in front of Lily. She pressed her lips together, then shrugged and said, “Well, get some sleep then.”
“I will. I just wanted to see Lily. Love you, kiddo.”
“Love you, Mommy,” Lily responded. “An’ Daddy. An’ Gunnar, too.” She put her hand on the computer screen, as if she could reach out and pet him. Then she brought Chloe’s face up to the screen and pointed out Gunnar to her. “He’s your friend, Chloe,” she told her stuffed dog. “An’ he’s mine, too. Oh, Uncle Christo’s here. ‘Bye, Mommy. ‘Bye, Gunnar. See you later.” And Lily skipped off, dragging Chloe away by a paw, leaving Sophy staring at the empty chair in the kitchen.
“Sorry about that.” Natalie suddenly appeared. “Christo just came in bringing fresh cinnamon rolls from the bakery.”
“Ah, well. A girl’s got to have her priorities. Give her a hug for me.”
“Of course.” There was a pause. Then Natalie said, “I didn’t realize Lily was quite so gung ho about George. She doesn’t know him.”
“She’s fixated. All families have mommies and daddies. Or they’re supposed to. We don’t. She wanted to know why. Then she wanted to know everything about him.”
“You should have told her about Ari. He’s her father.”
“No.” Sophy didn’t accept that. “He sired her. He would never have been there for her. George was.”
“Briefly.”
“Yes, well—” But Sophy didn’t want to get into that. She had never told Natalie all the reasons for the breakup of their marriage. It was personal. “Anyway, she asked. I told her. She’s curious. It’s the lure of the unknown.”
Natalie looked doubtful. “What about the lure for you?”
“I’m fine,” Sophy said firmly. “Besides, it’s only one afternoon. I’m only putting the dog out—and grabbing a few hours’ shut-eye. George isn’t here. His sister asked me. I’m doing her a favor.”
“If you say so,” Natalie said doubtfully.
“I do.”
“Right.” Natalie shrugged, still looking concerned. “Be careful, Soph’.”
“I’m being careful,” Sophy replied. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to you later, let you know what flight I’ll be on.”
“So you’re coming soon?”
“Tonight. There’s nothing to stay for.”
Natalie smiled. “Great.”
Sophy shut down the computer and put it on the night-stand by the bed. Then she finished undressing down to her underwear, drew back the covers and slid into the bed. It was heaven. And what she’d told Natalie was true: she was being careful. Very careful.
She closed her eyes and didn’t let herself think about the photos in the album. She didn’t let herself remember those months of hope and joy. She tried not to dwell on the fact that she was in George’s house, that she could go up one more flight of stairs and lie in George’s bed.
She didn’t want the memories of loving him—of making love with him. She didn’t want the pain.
The bed dipped suddenly. Her eyes snapped open to see Gunnar had leapt lightly onto the foot of the bed. He stood peering down at her.
She reached up and fondled his velvety soft ears, then scratched lightly behind them. He arched his back, almost like a cat. Then he turned in a circle and lay down next to her, so close that she could feel the press of his body through the covers.
She didn’t know if he was supposed to be on the bed or not. She didn’t care. The solid warmth of his body was comforting, reassuring. Even if he was George’s dog, she liked him. She told him so.
Gunnar twitched his ear.
Sophy smiled, gave him a pat, Then shut her eyes and very carefully and resolutely did not let herself think about George. She slept.
And dreamed about him instead.
George wanted out.
Now. This afternoon.
“You can’t keep me here,” he told Sam, who was standing beside George’s bed saying he needed to do exactly that.
Sam wasn’t listening. He knew George. They’d ridden bikes together, climbed trees together and played lacrosse together. They’d even got drunk together and pounded on each other a few times—as friends do. George hadn’t decided yet whether it was a stroke of good or bad luck that Sam had been the neurologist on duty when they brought him in last night.
He was leaning toward the latter right now as Sam was standing there with a stethoscope, looking grimly official.
“Well, no. I can’t ground you. Or tie you to the bed,” Sam agreed drily. “I did think that perhaps I could appeal to your adult common sense, but if that’s a problem …”
George bared his teeth. It made his head hurt like hell. But then so did everything else he’d done today, which was pretty much nothing. He’d tried to read and couldn’t focus. He’d tried to write and couldn’t think. He’d tried to get up and walk around, but when he did, he’d barely made it back to the bed without throwing up. If they’d let him go home, he could at least get some sleep.
“It would be different if you didn’t live alone,” Sam was saying. “Having someone who can keep an eye on you would make it more feasible.”
“Babysit me, you mean,” George grunted.
Sam grinned. “If the shoe fits …”
George glared. Sam just raised his brows, shrugged and looked back implacably.
Scowling, George folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I promise I’ll call if I think it’s worse.”
“No,” Sam said.
“I have work, a dog, a life—”
“A life?” Sam snorted at that. “I don’t think so. You teach physics, for heaven’s sake!”
It wasn’t all he’d ever done, but George didn’t go there. He just stared stonily at Sam and waited for him to give in.
“No,” Sam said. “Just because I broke your nose in sixth grade doesn’t mean I’m going to surrender my obligation as a doctor to give you my honest medical opinion.”
“The hell you did! I broke your nose!”