Page 87 of Accidental Doctor Daddy

He muttered a curse, turning his back on me, shoulders sagging with either anger or despair. The neon sign cast harsh pink shadows, emphasizing the hollows under his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll go. But I’m not abandoning you. If you need me, call. If you don’t, I’ll still check in.”

He didn’t answer, just huddled on the couch like a wounded animal. I stared a moment longer, lamenting the gulf between us, then turned on my heel and strode out.

No point in lingering. He’s made his choice for tonight.

Outside, night draped the street in murky gloom. I slid into my car, shutting the door with a controlled sigh.

That stung more than I care to admit.

Leonardo’s words echoed in my soul.But I refused to yield to self-pity. I’d spent my life forging a path in medicine, providing for my kids, saving countless lives. I gave people what they needed. That was a doctor’s duty. If my son needed a scapegoat for his pain, I’d be that scapegoat.

Sometimes, fatherhood demanded we step into the line of fire, risking heartbreak and blame. But I’d do it again and again for my children—both the grown one raging in a dingy loft and the newborns who needed me. This was my second chance at a family, and I wouldn’t let them down.

Honesty had come at a stiff price, but I’d pay it, no matter how high.

Chapter 33

Ella

It had been days since Dom’s texts felt anything close to normal—days of me staring at my phone, rereading short, tense replies. I knew he’d told his kids about our twins, which was bound to stir the pot. But aside from a few terse mentions of stress, Dom gave away nothing. Each one-word text made me question whether he was slowly drifting away or simply overwhelmed.

By the third night of near-silence, I was reading too much into everything, swinging between anger and worry. I tried focusing on the twins or burying myself in work to ignore the building anxiety. Still, the ache in my chest lingered. I couldn’t shake the sense something was wrong.

Then, near midnight, a sharp knock broke the hush of my apartment. I jolted off the couch, glancing at the two bassinets a few feet away. Still asleep.

My phone lay face-down on the coffee table—no new notifications.Who would—?My heart thudded with a wild mix of dread and hope. I peeped through the hole and found Dom standing there, coat rumpled, eyes dark with something that looked like desperation.

I threw open the door. “Dom?” For a moment, I wanted to tear into him for ghosting me. But the haunted expression on his face doused my anger.

He stepped inside, shutting the door softly behind him. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, eyes flicking to the twins. “I tried to keep it together, but I—I need you.”

My heart squeezed at the broken note in his voice. I set aside my scolding, nodding stiffly. “Well, I’m here. Tell me what’s going on.”

He didn’t wait for more. His hand cupped my face, and then he kissed me—hard. A needy, desperate kiss that stole my breath. The day’s resentment threatened to flare, but it fizzled under the raw intensity of his lips on mine, the way he clung like I was his anchor in a storm. I stumbled back against the wall, letting out a muffled gasp.

“Ella,” he whispered, voice cracking on my name. He didn’t offer explanations, just pressed his forehead to mine, breathing raggedly. “I can’t talk about it tonight. I just…”

He didn’t finish, but I knew. The meltdown with Leo, the tension at work, the swirl of guilt about everything. He was drowning, and apparently, he saw me as his lifeline. Part of me wanted to demand he open up, but another part was too relieved he’d come to me at all.

“Come on,” I murmured, grabbing his hand and guiding him from the entryway. My living room lamp cast a faint glow on the couch, where I’d been napping. The twins dozed on, oblivious to our late-night reunion. “Are you sure you want this?”

His answer was immediate. He pulled me flush against him, burying his face in my neck. “I need you,” he repeated, mouth brushing my skin in a way that turned my knees weak.

Heat flared through me, half from longing, half from unresolved tension.Damn it, Ella—just let him in.My hands slid under his coat, pushing it off. The moment his coat hit thefloor, he was unbuttoning his shirt, lips slanting over mine with a desperation that bordered on frantic.

We stumbled toward the bedroom, mindful of the sleeping babies. My heart pounded with a wildfire of frustration and desire. I should demand answers, should push him to explain, but every kiss stoked the blaze, overshadowing logic. By the time we reached the foot of the bed, clothes were half-off, breath ragged. The look in his eyes was pure hunger.

“God, I missed you,” he mumbled against my collarbone, hands sliding up my shirt to cup my breasts. My head fell back, a soft moan escaping me. Even as doubt gnawed at me, I couldn’t resist him.

I tugged off my shirt, right before a bitter thought hit.He can’t just vanish then show up for sex.

But the ache in his voice, the tension in his body, reminded me he was hurting too. He needed to find comfort in me, and I needed that from him, too.

Moments later, he scooped a hand up my back and guided me onto the bed. The faint city light shone on his handsome face, still lined by something unspoken, but now, too distracted by me to say it. I spread my legs for him as he kneeled there, no more words needed.

He moved over me, his lips, his teeth, his tongue, all of them dancing on my body. It was like he wanted to tour me first. His touch was powerful, possessive. The way he gripped my hip, how his fingers spread me open for him, he owned my body, every last cell, every gasping breath I took. When his mouth met my clit, I bit my fist, trying to keep quiet. Trying and failing.

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