Page 101 of Accidental Doctor Daddy

I let the tears slip down my cheeks as I drove into the night, mind on Ella and the twins. My heart ached, but I wasn’t broken. Leo had called me Dad. That was worth something.

No. It was worth everything. That little word was a stepping stone on a new path. I had no idea where it would lead me, but it was a first step nonetheless.

Chapter 39

Ella

I’d thought New York was the epitome of chef success, all fast-paced and grueling. But now, I found myself in a brand-new kitchen in Chicago, pausing between flips of an omelet to realize I hadn’t even broken a sweat. That used to be unthinkable. Yet the calmer pace didn’t feel wrong, just…different.

I wasn’t hating my job, which was why it felt strange. But since I wasn’t hating it, it also felt really, really good. Maybe not hating my job was an actual success.

“Chef, ticket for table four,” called Marcus, my line cook, from across the pass. He was a fantastic line cook, always on time, always ahead of the rest of the kitchen. I would have thought he was handsome if he had another twenty years on him. Dark hair, a day's worth of stubble at all times, nice square shoulders.

But every man under forty looked underbaked these days.

I glanced over, giving him a nod. “On it,” I said, plating up eggs benedict with a flourish. As I drizzled spicy hollandaise, my mind briefly wandered to my old life—sliding plated dishes across to Dom when he visited me after hours. I forced the memory aside, focusing on the swirl of sauce.

This is my reality now.

Across from me, Tanya, our pastry chef, approached with a tray of fresh croissants. Her rainbow-colored hair was pinned up in a bandana. She had the personality of a manic pixie dream girl and the body of an anime character. She was short, had big boobs that made it hard for her apron to fit right, and a crooked grin that rarely faded. “Morning rush is wild, but it’s less crazy than yesterday.”

I gave a half-smile. “I’ll take it. Yesterday, I swear we had a dozen orders for those stuffed French toast bombs all at once.”

“Hey, that’s your fault—advertising them on the specials board, Miss Creative.”

I shrugged. “People here love sweet, over-the-top stuff for breakfast.”

Jason tapped my shoulder, and I handed him a plate. “Run that out, would you?”

He zipped off, leaving me to reorganize the line. Over the next half-hour, the flow of orders ebbed, and soon the midmorning lull set in.

Almost time to check on the twins.

“Chef, you cool if I prep some fruit compote for tomorrow’s brunch?” Tanya asked.

“Go for it,” I replied. “I’ll be back in a few.”

She winked. “Say hi to your babies for me.”

I tried not to grin too broadly. “Will do.” Then I slipped out of the kitchen, weaving past a few lingering customers to the stairs leading to my apartment. This stairway commute was still surreal, a far cry from the jam-packed sidewalks in Manhattan.

With every step, I thought about my little family. My girls were growing so fast, and I hated that Dom wasn’t here to see it. I gulped at the thought, shoved it away. My sister lived in a suburb nearby. I should give her a call. We’d never been close—she was twelve years older than me.

After Katie left home, Mom tried to turn me into a miniature version of herself. I blamed my sister for not being there to protect me from Mom’s bullshit, but I knew better now. That wasn’t her job. She was just trying to survive.

Maybe I should integrate her into my little family.I didn’t even know if she had kids herself. My girls might have cousins.

At my door, I let myself in quietly. Martha, the nanny, glanced up from the floor where she was playing with Marissa and Summer. “Hey there, Chef,” she greeted with a warm smile. “Your girls just finished their morning bottle. Perfect timing.”

I crouched down, heart softening at Marissa’s delighted squeal. “How’re my munchkins doing?”

Martha chuckled, pushing a strand of gray hair back. “They’re angels. Not a peep of complaint since breakfast.” She gestured at the crocheted blanket forming in her lap. “I got half a row done while they rolled around.”

I reached out to stroke Summer’s cheek, a tiny pang shooting through my chest.Dom would’ve loved seeing them so peaceful.Clearing my throat, I forced a smile. “Thanks, Martha. I just wanted to pop in and see them. We’re in a lull downstairs.”

“Take your time,” she said softly. “You deserve a little mama moment.”

For a minute, I did just that—scooping Summer into my arms, pressing a gentle kiss to her soft hair. Marissa grabbed at my sleeve, babbling. I indulged them with coos and tickles, letting a wave of calm wash over me. Then, too soon, I had to stand up, because the lunch prep beckoned.

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