Page 7 of Tempted By the Handsome Doctor

"And what is the right thing, exactly?" I set down my menu. "Supporting me financially if I decide to keep the baby? Writing a check every month and going on with your life?"

His jaw tightens. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean? Because from where I'm sitting, you're the classic commitment-phobic playboy doctor with too much money and too little time for anything real."

"You don't know me," he says. "You spent one night with me. That's not enough to make those kinds of judgments."

He's right, and I know it, but admitting that feels like surrender. "Fine. Then tell me who you are, Daniel Morrison. Help me understand the man who might be the father of my child."

"I'm a third-year resident in emergency medicine," he says after a moment. "I work eighty-hour weeks, sometimes more. I live in a condo downtown that I barely see because I'm always at the hospital." He pauses. "And yes, I'm Lou Morrison's grandson. He raised me, and he's the only real family I have."

Our milkshakes arrive, thick and frosty in tall glasses. I take a sip, needing something to do with my hands. "I didn't know Lou Morrison had a grandson."

"He has two. My brother Jake and I, but Jake went to the military and never came back." Daniel shrugs. "Most people in town just know me as 'the doctor one' if they remember me at all. I left for college and med school, only came back for the residency program because it's actually one of the best in the state."

"I'm surprised you came back at all," I admit. "Most people who leave Cedar Falls don't return."

"Grandpa Lou needed someone close by. He'd never admit it, but he's getting older." Daniel's expression softens when he talks about his grandfather. "And the hospital here offered me autonomy I wouldn't get at a bigger program. They were desperate for new blood."

Our food arrives—enormous burgers on toasted brioche buns, a mountain of crispy fries, and little cups of coleslaw on the side. My stomach growls at the sight.

"So," Daniel says as we dig in, "tell me about your job. You're the head librarian?"

"For the past year and a half. I came back to Cedar Falls when Dad got sick, and just... stayed after he died. The library needed someone, and I needed a purpose."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it," I admit. "It's not exciting or glamorous, but it matters. Especially the children's programs. You should see their faces when they finish their first chapter book."

He smiles, a genuine smile that transforms his tired face. "I can imagine. You must be good with kids."

And just like that, the elephant in the room trumpets its presence again. Kids. A kid. Our potential kid.

I take a large bite of my burger to avoid responding immediately, savoring the perfect blend of smoky sauce and melted cheese.

"Maya," Daniel says after we've eaten silently for a few minutes. "I need to know what you're thinking. About the pregnancy."

I set down my burger. "Honestly? I don't know yet. Part of me is terrified. I'm barely keeping myself afloat financially. My house needs a new roof. I still have student loans. Having a baby would change everything."

He nods, listening.

"But another part of me..." I take a deep breath. "Another part feels like this might be my only chance. I’ve always wanted children."

I pause and blink rapidly, determined not to cry in Madeline's Diner over a half-eaten burger.

Daniel reaches across the table, his hand hovering over mine before retreating. "Whatever you decide, I meant what I said. I'll support you. And not just financially."

I look up, surprised. "What do you mean?"

He seems to be choosing his words carefully. "I mean, if you decide to have this baby, I want to be involved. Really involved. Not just writing checks."

"Why?" The question is blunt, but I need to know. "You don't know me any better than I know you."

"Because it would be my child too," he says simply. "And I... I want to be there."

The conviction in his voice is unmistakable. He holds my gaze, and for the first time since seeing those two pink lines this morning, I feel something like hope flicker in my chest.

"I need time," I say finally. "To think about all of this."

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