Page 82 of Accidental Doctor Daddy

The emptiness of my apartment pressed on me, the hush more oppressive than comforting. I wanted to call Ella and let her know what happened, but the thought of hearing her voicealso stung—she’d want to comfort me, or worse, apologize when she has nothing to apologize for.

I made it as far as the den before the weight of everything struck and forced me to sit on a leather armchair that faced a modest fireplace, rarely used because I spent most of my life at the hospital. But now, I needed warmth, something to chase away the chill. I flipped the switch on the gas fireplace, watching the flames flicker to life.

Slumping into the armchair, I raked a hand over my face.Leo walked out without a word.Guilt, anger, sorrow—all warred inside me.I had to do this. The twins are my second chance at fatherhood, and I won’t hide them.

My gaze fell on a glass-fronted cabinet where I kept a few bottles of good scotch for special occasions. This didn’t feel like a celebration, but I needed something to blunt the edges of my emotions. With a sigh, I rose, grabbing a tumbler and pouring two fingers of aged scotch. The amber liquid glinted in the firelight.

Sinking back into the chair, I let out a bitter chuckle. “Cheers to honesty,” I muttered, taking a sip that burned down my throat.Fuck, that stings.But maybe I deserved a little sting.

My phone vibrated once on the side table, and I tensed, hoping it was Leo or Gina. But the screen showed a hospital group text about scheduling changes.Not now.I silenced it, focusing on the quiet flicker of flames.

One crisis at a time,Ella had said before. She was right, but tonight I had no illusions about the magnitude of this crisis.

My stomach churned with the weight of it all—my career, my kids, my future with Ella. If I caved, tried to hide them again, I’d lose everything that mattered, and I wouldn’t be the man they needed me to be.

Minutes blurred, and the scotch still burned. I forced myself not to pour a second round—wallowing in alcohol wouldn’t fixanything. The fire crackled, warm against my skin, reminding me I still had a home, a place to gather the people I loved…if they’d come.

The memory of Gina’s worried eyes spurred a flicker of hope—she’d calm Leonardo down eventually, or at least keep him from doing something drastic. And maybe in time, he’d realize I hadn’t done this to hurt him.

Or maybe not.The ache in my chest deepened.I can’t control his reaction.

I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the chair. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I pictured Ella’s face—her feisty grin, the way she calmed the twins, her unwavering stance by my side.

Eventually, I stood, placing the half-drained scotch on the mantel. I turned off the fireplace, letting the room plunge into a dim hush. My phone still sat on the side table, dark. No new messages. Which was good and bad.

The second chance I’d been given with these twins felt bittersweet now, overshadowed by the fear that I’d lost my son. But honesty was the only way forward. I squared my shoulders, heading to my bedroom to gather myself, prepare for another day of navigating hospital demands, fatherhood, and a wounded adult son who might not forgive me.

My chest still ached, but beneath the sorrow was a steady determination. I’d stand by this family—my family—no matter what. Because I owed it to the twins, to Ella, and yes, even to Leonardo, to be the father I should’ve been all along.

And if that meant a lonely night with a bottle of scotch, so be it.

Chapter 31

Ella

Another Monday, another peaceful day at Suivante. No service meant no customers breathing down my neck, no frantic plating up. Just me, my team, and the chance to get our house in order.

But as I trudged into the restaurant this Monday, my phone buzzed with a short text from Dom.

Dom:Hope you’re good. Taking Gina for coffee, seeing if she’s heard from Leonardo. Will text later.

It wasn’t exactly the comforting message I’d hoped for. All I knew about things was that Leo had stormed off the other day after finding out about the twins. Dom was upset, though he tried not to show it. But he’d been suddenly too busy to come by since then. I was pretty sure he was waiting until he calmed down.

A pang of worry pressed into my chest.If only I could fix that for him.

I shoved the phone into my back pocket, inhaling the familiar scents of Suivante. Tomato sauce, natural cleaner, a strong whiff of espresso from the bar up front. At Winner’s suggestion, Carrie had started a new practice of letting staff come in at ten onMondays, so the place was quiet except for a few early-arrival line cooks rummaging through crates of produce in the kitchen.

“Morning, Chef,” Jean-Paul called, glancing up from a massive box of tomatoes. “We got a double shipment of these guys. Looks like a mix-up at the supplier.”

“Great,” I mumbled, tucking my hair under a bandana. “We’ll figure it out.”

He nodded, returning to his sorting. I forced a small smile, ignoring the worry swirling in my gut about Dom and his kids. The hush of the kitchen should’ve been soothing, but the moment I stepped into the walk-in to assess inventory, a bright, perky voice made my hackles rise.

“Ella!” It was Winner. She stood near the shelves of flour, arms folded, wearing an expression that screamedI have gossip.

What fresh hell is this?“Morning, Winner.”

She grinned, all teeth. “Heard from Tom, who heard from Harris, that you were at his restaurant for date night last week.Fancy, chef.”

---