Brian Littrell turned up his coat collar before he stepped out of the cab. He took care to shield his medical bag from the cold, relentless rain blowing into New York City. “Keep the change,” he told the cab driver, thrusting a folded bill through the slit in the window. Hunched into his coat, Brian stared up at the window of his luxury midtown Manhattan penthouse. Now he wished he hadn’t asked his secretary to phone Chloe and warn her of his arrival. She would be furious at his leaving her in the lurch again. “As if I have a choice,” he muttered, taking the front steps two at a time.
John, the attendant on duty, opened the building’s main door. He extended a large umbrella to Brian. “Nasty weather?”
“Thanks.” Brian shook his wet hair out of his eyes as he ducked under the canvas. “Nasty all right, but at least it hasn’t turned to sleet.” He lingered, making small talk. The longer he avoided the scene that surely awaited him upstairs, the better.
“Home early today, huh?” John closed the umbrella and reached around Brian to press the button summoning the private elevator. “Big evening, I guess.” The older man winked. “Saks delivered Mrs. Littrell’s new dress. Oops. Don’t tell her I spilled the beans. I think she planned to surprise you.”
Brian frowned as he entered the elevator. “Chloe bought a new dress for tonight? Damn.” He muttered. Keeping the door ajar with his bag, he pushed back one cuff to check a flat gold watch. “I need a cab out front by two, John. I’m scheduled for a five-thirty international flight. In this weather, traffic to JFK Airport will be hell.”
The doorman nodded briskly, but his eyes were sympathetic as Brian let the door close. Brian hoped he hadn’t revealed his own unsettled feelings. It dawned on him to think the staff had probably discussed his rocky marriage—although it shouldn’t surprise him that John was aware of his and Chloe’s problems. After all, the doorman occasionally dated the Littrell’s housekeeper.
Brian dug for his door key as the elevator glided to a stop outside his apartment. Could he really blame the staff for talking when the situation between him and Chloe had gone from bad to worse over the past ten months? That was why he’d arranged a night out, hoping to mend their latest rift. An unexpected trip was the last thing he needed. But there was no other option. Throwing back his shoulders, Brian braced for the battle as he moved to insert the key in the lock.
Surprisingly, the door swung inward. Caught off balance, Brian pitched forward, hands flailing, as Chloe flung herself at his chest. The key flew in one direction and his bag in the other, and Brian’s arms encircled his wife’s thin frame. His shocked sputter ended with a mouthful of Chloe’s fine blonde hair. She paid no attention to his incoherent gurgle, only fused her mouth with his as she stripped him of his coat, jacket and tie.
“When Maxine phoned to say you were leaving the clinic early, I sent Mrs. Parker to a movie.” Chloe’s momentum propelled Brian into the bedroom where they both toppled onto the king-sized bed.
“Chloe, what the...?” He’d barely lifted himself onto his elbows when she unfastened her satin robe to expose her otherwise bare body. Pressing her lips against his, she wound around him again. The kiss smothered his second attempt to speak. With sure fingers, she unbuckled his belt and released the zipper of his pants.
“I see you’re ready for a night away from it all, too?” She cooed, leaving his mouth long enough to run her tongue from his belly-button and downward.
Brian exhaled swiftly. “Chloe...” Her name was a groan ripped from his tortured lungs as she quickly made her second move.
Release came for Brian before he caught his breath. The speed embarrassed him, yet he was more concerned about their rough marriage. It’d been weeks since they’d said two civil words to each other, let alone engaged in any sexual activities. “God Chloe, are you all right?” he gasped, raising his torso enough to ease her aside.
She pouted as he slid her to the edge of the bed. Tossing her shoulder-length hair, she matter-of-factly retied her robe. “I thought this would be an incentive for you to come home early more often, Bri.”
He winced. “Chloe, what exactly did Maxi Lucas say when she phoned?”
“That you asked her to let me know you were on your way home. Why?” Her blue eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion.
Brian rolled off the bed and raked an unsteady hand through tousled curls. “Maxi was to warn you that I was on my way home to pack. The fourteen-year-old girl I told you about has moved to the head of our transplant list. I got called an hour ago. We have an organ match. I’m flying out tonight.”
A crash followed by breaking glass brought his head spinning around. Chloe, her pretty face contorted by anger, had cleared the nightstand with a sweep of her hand. Pill bottles lay strewn amid jagged pieces of glass from their smashed wedding photo.
“Dammit! I didn’t set out to disappoint you! But I am the chief surgeon on the international transplant team. I’d expect you, of all people, not to begrudge a child her chance to live!”
“I don’t need a doctor now, Brian. I need a husband.”
One of his eyebrows shot up to meet a rain-wet lock of hair.
“I hate that superior attitude you get. Almost as much as I hate that first question out of your mouth after we do anything...God...you can’t even call it romantic! But...it’s ‘Are you alright, Chloe?’”
“Not this argument again,” he grumbled. “Getting over-tired, flu, colds—-anything causing undue stress can still put your transplanted organs into jeopardy. I don’t like arguing. If it wasn’t such awful weather in Norway, I’d take you with me!”
“Wouldn’t that be fun?” She drawled sarcastically. “I could sit around in a hotel while you spend twenty-four hours a day at the hospital. No, thank you.”
“Then call Faith. She didn’t have any time off at Christmas to visit, but maybe she’d like a break from Boston now. You two can go to a Broadway show...have dinner...shop. I don’t think she’s seen the apartment since you redecorated it.”
“That’s because my sister spends as many hours at her hospital as you do at yours. I’ll go to the beach house--again. The sailing crowd doesn’t treat me like an invalid.” Her last words were muffled as she pulled a suitcase from the closet and flopped it open on the bed. With an aggrieved air, she folded a new silk dress that hung on the closet door.
“I refuse to be made to feel guilty about all this. I was a surgeon when you married me, and I’m still a surgeon. Name one thing you’ve ever wanted that I haven’t given you!”
“Your time.”
He gestured helplessly, then turned away to shed his remaining clothes. He strode into the bathroom and wrenched on the shower, returning to the bedroom just long enough to yank a black flight bag from the closet.
“I took an oath to heal. It’s what I do.”
“Amen. Not a day goes by that you don’t ask if I’ve taken my pills. If I’m doing my breathing treatments. If I’m warm enough. Et cetera, et cetera.”
“A few precautions seem a small price to pay for enjoying a normal life.”
“Normal?” Chloe paused in the act of pulling on a pair of black dress pants. “Normal women’s lives don’t revolve around endless check-ups and buckets of pills, Bri. The don’ts in my life outweigh the dos. Don’t walk in the rain, Chloe. Don’t play in the snow. Don’t climb mountains. Don-don’t have children.”
Brian’s jaw tightened. “Your anti-rejection drugs place you at risk. Add to the normal stress of carrying a child—-but you know all this.”
“Yes, Dr. God. Tell me again how normal I am.” With jerky movements, Chloe tucked in her blouse and began flinging clothing into the suitcase.
“There’s adoption.” Brian ventured after a pause. “But we’d need to solve our differences first.”
Stone-faced, Chloe continued to fill the case as if he hadn’t said a word.
Doubling a fist, Brian smacked the doorframe on his way into the shower. When Chloe wore that closed expression, there was no discussing anything with her. Meanwhile, it was getting late. A kid in Norway counted on him. Chloe had been given a second chance. Why in hell couldn’t she appreciate the fact?
By the time Brian had dried off and dressed to travel, Chloe had packed the third in a trio of matched luggage. Brian folded two suits and several shirts into his bag.
“How long are you planning on staying at the beach?” he asked, eyeing her growing pile of luggage. Not waiting for her answer, he took his shaving kit into the bathroom to fill.
“Why would you care?” She elbowed past him and scooped an array of cosmetics into an overnight case.
“You’re my wife. Why wouldn’t I care?” His bafflement increased when she slammed the lid, tossed the small case with the others, then went to pick up the phone.
After punching in a series of numbers, she spoke into the receiver. “John, this is Mrs. Littrell. Call the garage and have them send the Mercedes around. Then please come to the suite and collect my bags.”
“It’s pouring rain,” Brian said quietly. “If you have to go today, call the car service to take you. I’ll arrange a few days off when I get back from Norway. We’ll drive back to New York together.”
“Go to hell,” She said in a voice that dripped honey.
“Chloe!” He faced her across the bed. “Why do you always pick a fight with me before I go on a trip?”
“And you’re forever off on one, aren’t you? For all we’re together, I may as well be single. I...I’ve made up my mind. I’m fling for divorce.”
"Divorce” He said in a strangled voice. “God, Chloe.” His knees buckled and he dropped heavily to the bed just as a sharp rap sounded at the front door. Brian couldn’t force words past the lump in his throat. He knew things hadn’t been good, but...
Chloe left the bedroom. Moments later she led John in to get her bags. The doorman eyed the broken glass. He made no comment, only gathered the cases as Chloe directed.
Brian caught her wrist or she would have gone without saying goodbye. “Don’t do anything rash until I get back,” He begged in a low voice. “Give me a chance to right things. I’ll take a few weeks off. We’ll go to the Bahamas or something...”
She jerked from his hold. “It’s over, Brian. I’ve never been anything more to you than your first transplant.” She hissed.
“That’s not true.”
“Yes. Find another star patient. I want a man who sees me as a woman.”
Stunned, Brian watched her walk away. It was some time before he stood and resumed filling his shaving kit. He studied the hands reaching for his razor. A surgeon’s hands. His skill had brought them together. Well, technically, Chloe’s sister, Faith, had brought them together. She was a nurse at the Boston hospital where Brian had done his residency. Chloe was the one who’d demanded he set up practice in New York.
How had they gone from building a future together...to contemplating divorce? With hands not quite steady, Brian knocked a packet of pills from a shelf in the medicine cabinet. Absently he retrieved it. Chloe’s birth control pills. In her haste she must have forgotten them.
Brian dashed out of the apartment to catch her. Halfway down to the elevator, he stopped. This was a full dispenser. Probably an extra.
A shiver coursed through his body as he recalled what had happened earlier. Replaying the scene in his mind, he felt his blood begin to flow again. Granted, Chloe could be impulsive, but she wasn’t rash. Those were angry words she’d thrown out, hoping to make him stay home. Her threats had become habit-—a way to manipulate him. And he’d refused to bend. They were both at fault.
Sighing, he retraced his steps. He’d phone her the minute he reached his hotel in Norway. Once he turned the patient over to her own team for the follow-up care, he’d talk to his partner about taking time off.
Brian finished packing and wrote a note to the housekeeper, Mrs. Parker, letting her know that he and Chloe would be away for a week or so. He felt better for having a solid plan in mind. Shifting his bags, he locked the door and went down to meet his cab.
