Page 30 of Once Upon A Second Chance
Then I hear it—the sharp click-click of designer heels on linoleum, the rustle of expensive fabric, and a voice that curls through the clinic like spoiled champagne.
“There you are.”
Every muscle in my body locks.
Rebecca stands in the doorway of my office, one manicured hand resting on the frame. Her blonde hair is upswept into a perfect twist, her cream colored pantsuit untouched by the Tennessee heat. She looks like she’s stepped out of a Manhattan boardroom and into the wrong life.
My life.
“Surprise,” she purrs.
Behind her, half the clinic staff have stopped mid-task to stare. Penny’s at the nurses’ station, her spine rigid, a chart clutched too tightly in her hands.
I force myself to stand. “Rebecca.”
She sweeps forward, her perfume—something floral and aggressively expensive—filling the space between us.
“You didn’t return my calls.” A pout. “Or my texts. Or my lawyer’s—”
“Not here.” I step around her, shutting the door with a firm click. The second it closes, her mask drops.
“What the hell, Richard?” She flicks a disdainful glance around my tiny office. “You gave up a Park Avenue practice for this?”
I lean against the desk, arms crossed. “It’s temporary. What do you want?”
“You left things unfinished.”
She steps closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Andrew thinks it’s pathetic—you running home to your little redneck slut of a girlfriend like some—”
“Get out.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Out of my office. Out of this clinic.” I yank the door open. “And if you ever call Penny that again, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Rebecca’s laugh is all teeth. “Ruin the pristine reputation you’re building here?”
She raises her voice, just enough to carry. “The one where no one knows how you really left New York?”
The hallway goes dead silent.
Penny’s staring at us, her face unreadable.
Rebecca smiles, adjusting her cufflinks. “We’ll talk later. Darling.”
And with that, she saunters out—leaving the scent of her perfume and the weight of every unspoken threat hanging in the air.
The automatic doors of the clinic hiss shut behind me as I step into the humidevening air.
My shoulders are tight from a day spent ruminating over Rebecca’s unexpected reappearance in my life. I can only guess at what she has up her sleeve. And I’m not sure I’m prepared to deal with it.
Then I hear it—Rebecca’s polished voice, sharp as a scalpel.
"—really think he’ll stay this time?"
My head snaps up.
There, near Penny’s car, Rebecca has her cornered against the driver’s side door. Penny’s arms are crossed, her expression icy, but Rebecca leans in closer, undeterred.
