Total pages in book: 10
Estimated words: 9522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 48(@200wpm)___ 38(@250wpm)___ 32(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 9522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 48(@200wpm)___ 38(@250wpm)___ 32(@300wpm)
When my ex-husband, Frankie Mancini, was offered a position in London, it seemed like the fresh start I needed. I married Franke right out of high school and he let me go to college and med school without too much fuss. I say let because at first, he was dead set against me working, but I always knew I was meant to help people. I love kids and I love medicine; it is and was the perfect career path for me. I am one hundred percent sure he was afraid of my family, but once I graduated, finished my residency, and moved here, he changed. Out of the watchful eye of my father, he started to show a pettiness that I wasn’t feeling. You don’t mess with a Vitali girl, everyone born in the five boroughs knows that, so I wonder why he thought he could get away with it just because we were in London? When I didn’t give in to his bullshit, he left me for another woman from his office. Good riddance, motherfucker. He was a terrible husband, never once there for me after I lost a patient or did well on a test. He said I was a terrible wife who didn’t support him or his career goals. I may not have loved him like I should have but I was always there when he needed to talk or brag or needed his trophy wife on his arm to schmooze the boss to get a promotion. He also said I was bad in bed, but I hope that was just a parting shot. I’d hate to think that my next foray into love would be hindered by the fact that I learned nothing from Franke. At least, I didn’t bring any kids into the world with that spineless asshole. That was over a year ago now. I’ve been working on me, which entails a lot of yoga and iced coffee, but I’ve missed being with a man. Franke was and still is the only man I’ve ever been with, but I am ready to date again, I think. My best friend and head nurse, Lizzy, is always trying to set me up with her rejects from one of those swiping apps, but that’s just not for me. Plus, who wants the rejects? I assume they were rejected for a reason.
I didn’t think I’d be basically starting over at thirty-five, but here I am, starting over. I feel old and unattractive, but Lizzy assures me that’s not the case. Once in the office, I start some coffee because God knows I’ll need it. I try to forget the man’s voice who called me just a short time ago. His English accent was tinged with something else, something southern. I am imagining all kinds of deliciousness when there is a brisk knock on the outer office door. I rush to open it and I am shocked to find a tall man carrying a sleeping little girl wrapped up in a blanket. Well, shocked isn't the right word. I knew he was coming. I just didn't expect him specifically. This sexy man standing there, staring at me. I can feel every movement of his dark, soulful eyes as they move over my body. It’s as if he’s caressing me with his hands. He's tall. Very, very tall with delicious dark skin, and a bald head that looks so inviting that I have to force myself to keep my hands at my sides. What is wrong with me? I've never had this kind of reaction to a man before.
“Doctor Mancini?” he questions.
“Yeah, come on in,” I say stepping to the side so he can enter the room.
“I’m Tony Harris. Thanks for letting us come in so late. So early?”
“Let’s go with late. That way a little more sleep will seem so much sweeter.” He chuckles and damn if that doesn’t go all through me. “But please call me Ann-Marie. Let’s step into this exam room. You can lay her down on the table.” I gesture for him to go into the first room on the left.
“Thank you,” he says. His accent is thicker now. He clears his throat as he sets Danielle down. She stirs in her sleep, but she doesn’t wake up. Her little face looks flushed and her hair is in disarray.
Now is not the time to get turned on by my patient's uncle, I have to figure out what’s wrong with this precious little girl.
“We need to wake her up. I need to do a rapid strep test. She’s prone to them,” I tell him. I’m sure he already knows, but I’m a nervous talker.
“Danielle. Wake up punky. Doctor Mancini needs to do a test.” The little girl blinks open her eyes and groans.
“I don’t feel well,” she says pitifully.