Page 23 of Accidental Doctor Daddy

The father was Dominic, a man whose brief but profound impact on my life had left me reeling. I thought about reaching out to him somehow, but the complications were too great.

I paced my apartment as the city lights flickered outside my window. Before I could stop myself, I pulled out my phone. Opened the search bar.

Dominic Mortoli.

The name alone made my pulse race. I stared at it for a long beat, thumb hovering.

What was I even doing? Googling him? Looking for... what? His phone number? A way to break this news that neither of us were ready for?

My thumb hovered over the search button, but my heart was already slamming against my ribs.He deserves to know, a small voice whispered. But louder still was the echo ofThis will ruin everything.

I locked my phone and shoved it under a pillow before I could act on impulse.Later. Maybe. But not now.

Carrie’s husband worked at the same hospital as Dom, and my connection to him was a delicate thread woven with potential repercussions I couldn’t risk.

I hadn't told her that it was Dom who I had hooked up with.

And I definitely was not going to tell her Dom was the father.

Moreover, Leo had told me about his father—a man more devoted to his career than his family. Whether those stories were colored by bitterness or not, the risk of entangling Dom in this, of potentially disrupting his life, was too great. This could push Leo over the edge, too. I couldn’t ruin his family by telling him he had more family.

So, telling Dom was out of the question.

I had my own reasons for keeping this from him, too. I prided myself on my independence, on my ability to manage my own affairs. I wasn’t about to give up that control, not even to the father of my child.

I rubbed my stomach, hating how part of me clung to the memory of Dom’s hands on my body, how steady he had felt in the middle of my chaos.

I told myself I was doing this to protect everyone—including myself.

Because if I told him, I’d have to face him. Look him in the eye. Admit that one night in paradise left me carrying something far bigger than either of us could’ve bargained for.

So, no. Telling Dom wasn’t an option.

As I lay in bed that night, the decision formed fully in my mind. I would keep the pregnancy. It was a daunting prospect, but at thirty, it could have been my only chance to have a child. I knew I could do it on my own. Handling pressure was what I did best.

Plus, this kid had fought through ten years of birth control shots in my system to be here. I wanted to give them a chance.

I glanced out of the window, staring at the skyline outside my window. Neon lights blinked like they always had, but tonight, they felt colder. Harder.Harsher.

This city made me who I was. Gritty. Relentless. A chef who’d climbed from peeling potatoes to running services at one of the best restaurants in Manhattan. Could I really walk away from all that? From everything I’d built with my own two hands?

But then I thought of rushing a newborn through subway crowds. Of split shifts and twelve-hour days. Of trying to raise a child in a city that hadn’t exactly been kind to me.

I rubbed my stomach, letting the weight of it all sink in.

The truth was, I couldn’t protect a baby here—not the way I wanted to.

Maybe Carrie was right. Maybeshouldwasn’t a real plan.

Chicago.

Dom had mentioned it once, offhandedly. Slower pace. More space. A shot at starting over somewhere that didn’t chew people up and spit them out for walking too slow.

I had a sister there, too, though we hadn’t spoken in years. Perhaps it was time to fix that.

It wasn’t just about logistics anymore. It was about breathing room—for me and this baby.

In the middle of the night, I started exploring Chicago online. The food scene, the apartments, the parks. The school system was top-notch, as was the public transit, for the most part.

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