“I’M SORRY. COULD you repeat that, please?” Dr. Christabelle Watson blinked at the rather uncomfortable-looking lawyer sitting across the desk from her. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
Dylan Carter, the only attorney in tiny Bayside, Michigan, and therefore the person handling her aunt Marlene’s estate, took a deep breath. “Um…okay. Sure. It says here your aunt left half of her practice to you and the other half to Dr. Nicholas Marlowe.”
Nick, who sat next to her, shifted in his seat and straightened the dark jacket of his suit. Once he’d been a pediatric surgeon in Atlanta. Now he was back in their hometown as well, working as a GP.
Her aunt Marlene had been a general practitioner as well, a pillar of the Bayside community, liked and respected by all. Seemed everyone had turned out for her aunt’s funeral earlier in the day and said their fond farewells and given condolences to Belle on her loss.
A loss that had been made even harder because she’d had no idea her aunt’s cancer had progressed to stage four—terminal. Her chest ached anew with sorrow and regret. If only she’d known her aunt was so sick.
If only…
She tried to console herself with the fact that even if she had known the severity of her beloved aunt’s illness, it wasn’t like she could have easily flown home to Michigan anyway. Not with a packed list of new patient consults back in California and a practice partnership on the line. Aunt Marlene wouldn’t have wanted that anyway. She’d hated being fussed over, especially when she didn’t feel well.
Belle sniffled and twisted a tissue in her hands. Everything was such a mess.
Life had certainly taken a strange turn in the past twenty-four hours. Yesterday her boss, Dr. Reyes, had wanted to meet with her about the partnership right before she’d received the call about her aunt. Now the world as she knew it had changed forever. She’d filled out the required bereavement paperwork with Human Resources, made her quick excuses to Dr. Reyes, then rushed to catch a red-eye flight to Lansing.
Everything after that was a bit of a hazy blur.
She cleared her constricted throat and forced herself to focus on the attorney once more. “There must be some mistake.”
“Nope. No mistake.” Dylan frowned at his copy of her aunt’s will and pointed at a few particular lines. “Right here. See?”
He held the document toward her so she could look for herself.
She squinted down at the legalese. Yep. Right there in black and white.
All assets divided equally between Christabelle Watson and Nicholas Marlowe.
Nick too took the opportunity to lean in and Belle sat back fast, keeping as much distance between them as possible. His scent—soap and fabric softener—was the same as she remembered. His warmth penetrated the sleeve of her black blazer, sending tingles of unwanted awareness through her. Darn him. Even after everything he’d put her through, she still had the same tingling reaction whenever he was around. Not that she’d let him know.
Nope. Where Nicholas Marlowe was concerned, Belle had built her barriers high and strong.
Still, bone-deep exhaustion and grief threatened to overwhelm her, and she blinked hard against the sting of unshed tears. As a physician, she’d learned to mask her emotions behind a thick layer of professional stoicism—a necessity when personal feelings could lead to disaster with a patient. There were some who said she’d gotten too good at it, though, like with the few men she’d dated over the years. But at times like these it was the only thing that kept her going.
She clasped her hands in her lap to hide the slight tremble in her fingers and ignored the vibrating cell phone in her pocket. “Can you at least tell me how long it might take to get this all settled, Dylan? I have pressing matters back in California. Consultations and patients and—”
“Shouldn’t your aunt’s last wishes take precedence here?” Nick asked, his tone cold. His voice held a raw edge she didn’t recall from their high-school days together. Gone were his easy smiles and easy banter. Then again, they were different people now. After graduation, she’d gone off to UCLA, then a surgical fellowship at Harvard. Nick had graduated at the top of his class from the University of Michigan, then done medical school at Northwestern. He’d also gotten married before he’d finished his residency, the very thing he’d told Belle he’d never do.
She gave an ironic snort. He’d broken up with her in senior year, saying they were too young and being tied down would only hold her back. Then he’d turned right around and married someone else a few years later. Of course, it didn’t help she’d found out by accident either. God, what a naive fool she’d been back then. She’d shown up at his apartment complex in Evanston, Illinois, hoping to talk to him about the career choice looming on her horizon. After all, she and Nick had been friends since childhood, despite their painful breakup. No one had ever known her better or understood her more. So she’d made a rash decision and shown up at his place, only to find a celebration in full swing in the common area of his building. An engagement party for Nick and the woman he was going to marry. A woman who’d also been obviously pregnant with his baby.
Even all these years later, those memories sliced deep.
Hurt and embarrassed, she’d left without ever speaking to Nick.
Belle had still loved him then, but he’d moved on. Moved on and left her behind, shattering her hopes they might one day reconcile and get back together. Now she’d put her work and her professional life first, only dating men who weren’t interested in anything long term, keeping her heart and her emotions out of the equation.
She glanced over toward the corner where an eight-year-old boy played on a tablet. No denying Connor was Nick’s son. Same curly brown hair and adorable dimples as his father.
Belle hazarded another look at Nick, the man who’d once been her whole world. With dark shadows marring the skin beneath his eyes and a shadow of stubble on his jaw, he looked as weary as she felt.
Aunt Marlene had mentioned his wife had passed away two years previously. Being a single parent wasn’t easy and Belle couldn’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for Nick to deal with the loss of a spouse plus raising his son alone. And poor Connor. Belle had lost her own parents at the same age Connor was now. It had been devastating. If Aunt Marlene hadn’t taken her in and given her a loving, stable home, God only knew where she might’ve ended up.
Nick caught Belle’s gaze, his expression wary. Years earlier, his soulful brown eyes had sparkled with mirth, ready for any challenge, always up for anything…
Now they stared at her, flat and somber.
“You said there was a stipulation?” Nick asked, refocusing his attention on the attorney.
“Right. Yes,” Dylan said. “Marlene wants you both to reopen the free clinic one last time before you settle the estate.”