Page 72 of Damascus & The Wildfire
“You ordered him?” she asked skeptically. “Merrick doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do, so I don’t exactly think you bullied him into it.”
I laughed. “We’d been skating around how we felt for a while, I think. After everything we’ve lost …” I trailed off.
Merci tilted her head in question.
“I know about Rose. My fiancé died, too. Car accident.”
Her smile faltered, and her eyes softened with sympathy. “I’m sorry.” Her fingers tapped on the table. “I know it’s an unimaginable loss. It changed Merrick.”
I nodded. “He’s the first person who truly understood me. I think that’s what drew us together. He seemed to really love her.”
Merci bit her lip, seeming to weigh her words. “I lived with Merrick and Rose for a few years. Our dad died when I was fourteen, and our mom planned to move away. I wanted to stay to finish high school. Merrick remembers their relationship with, well, rose-coloredglasses. I think his guilt got tangled up in that. He remembers the relationship he wishes it’d been.”
A tall man in a crisp white coat appeared beside our table. His badge read Dr. Luca Marchetti, Thoracic Surgery. He bent to kiss the top of Merci’s head. His cologne, sharp and expensive, wafted around us.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Luca, this is Kenna, my brother’s … girlfriend.”
She glanced at me with a slight question in her eyes, like she wasn’t sure whether we’d put a label on our new relationship. I offered a small smile, not even sure what Merrick would call me.
“And Kenna, this is my fiancé, Luca. He’s a surgeon.”
Luca extended his hand, his expensive Rolex catching the light as he spoke with a thick Italian accent. “A pleasure,” he said, his accented voice smooth. “Merci, amore mio, I have a few more patients to see before we start our holiday. You should shower and change so we can get on the road as soon as I’m done.” There was an edge to his voice, a quiet command beneath the charm.
Merci’s smile was tight as she nodded. Luca’s gaze lingered on her for a beat before he strode away.
“A surgeon fiancé,” I teased, trying to shake the tension. “Should we start calling you Meredith Grey?”
Merci snorted. “Fortunately, I was never his intern. We met at a charity gala in Chicago. We’re getting away this weekend. Though apparently, one day of it will be spent with his family.” She rolled her eyes. “Which means endless passive-aggressive questions from his mom about when I plan to ditch this pesky little career and start pumping out babies.”
I cringed. “Ah, one ofthosefuture mothers-in-law.”
Her fingers clenched tighter around the cup. “Yep. His mom thinks a woman’s place is in the kitchen, preferably barefoot and pregnant.”
I cringed.
“But Luca knows who I am. And Merrick would murder me if I gave up my career to play house.”
I raised a brow in question.
“Merrick paid for my college,” she explained.
I blinked, caught off guard. “He what?”
Merci nodded. “Books, rent, everything. Told me I was the smart one. He wasn’t going to let me waste it by staying in the club and becoming someone’s old lady.”
For a moment, I didn’t know what to feel. Warmth flooded my chest at the thought of Merrick quietly funding his sister’s future. But underneath that was a ripple of unease. I couldn’t help wondering just what kind of blood or deals had padded those tuition checks.
Merci’s phone pinged, interrupting my thoughts.
“We’re being summoned. Merrick says Hatchet wants to see you.”
My stomach fluttered as we made our way back. I wrung my hands as I followed Merci into Hatchet’s room. She pulled the chart at the foot of his bed while I stood in the doorway. I bit my lip as I searched Hatchet’s face.
“Hey, beautiful. Come on in.”
Merrick stood and stepped toward me. When his hand wrapped around my shoulder, my tension eased slightly. “I’m going to give you two a few to talk,” he said as he pressed a kiss to my cheek. I flushed as Hatchet shot me a look that promised endless teasing.
“Everything is looking good,” Merci said briskly, closing his chart.
