Read the First 2 Chapters of Take Me Home to You!

Posted by Miranda Liasson on Sunday, February 22, 2026 at 11:29 pm in Uncategorized | 0 comments

 

Take Me Home to You, copyright 2026 by Miranda Liasson, LLC. No part of this work may be copied without permission from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

Text copyright 2026 by Miranda Liasson.

All rights reserved.

 

No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, except for brief quotations in a book review, without the express permission of the publisher.

 

No generative artificial intelligence (AI) was used in the writing of this work. The author expressly prohibits any entity from using this publication to train AI technologies to generate text, including, without limitation, technologies capable of generating works in the same style or genre as this publication.

 

CHAPTER 1

Adam

The woman next to me in first class wore dark sunglasses, a Packers sweatshirt, leggings, and mismatched tennis shoes. The mismatched shoes, one white and one navy, should have been a warning that something was seriously wrong and definitely a clue to change my seat ASAP.

Her blond hair was askew in a way that seemed to indicate a bird had gotten stuck and flapped its wings hard on the exit. The first thing she did was reach over me, breaching my personal space, to flag down the flight attendant for a drink.

            Was she high? On drugs? By the way she kept swiping at her eyes, she appeared to be seriously upset, but her Anne Hathaway à la Princess Diaries sunglasses obscured the full story.

            The flight attendant brought her a Bloody Mary with a celery stick jutting out of the glass. She took a sip and choked, which made me turn quickly from the medical journal I was trying to read.

I was an ER doctor from a busy Chicago hospital, trained for emergencies. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t sitting next to one.

            “Sorry,” she said, patting her chest until the spasm stopped and then sucking down the rest like she was pre-gaming for a frat party. “I don’t usually drink.”

            Sure, you don’t, was what I thought, but I gave a polite smile and a quick nod and went back to my reading. Before I left, my mom had handed me a sack of food, which I was still holding, sort of like I was still in grade school even though I was thirty-five years old. Unfortunately, the bag she’d chosen featured Santa bending over to set a giant bow-tied present under a Christmas tree. And the sack was big. Did she think there was no food in Turks and Caicos?

            Apparently, my aunts had been power cooking Mediterranean food this morning, and I could tell from a quick whiff or two that inside were homemade spinach pies, cheese pies, and also probably baklava. Their well-wishes for a nice trip. I shoved the bag under the seat in front of me.

            “I’m glad you’re going,” my mother had said as she kissed me goodbye, “but I wish you weren’t going by yourself. Remember, no reading medical journals or listening to those educational podcasts, and don’t sleep with any strange women just because you’re lonely.” Final advice from a lifelong social worker on the brink of retirement.

            “Thanks, Ma.” I’d kissed her on the cheek and taken the bag, even though it was embarrassingly large and also…the Santa. And did I mention that it was ninety degrees in mid-June?

            I heard sucking sounds as my seatmate hit the bottom of her glass, which was suddenly being waved in front of me. “May I please have another?” she asked the flight attendant, who, in first class, was only an arm’s length away.

            “This is my first time in first class,” the woman said, apparently to me. “How about you?”

            I was afraid to make eye contact. I had my own stuff going on, and being functional over the past two years had taken every ounce of effort I could muster. “Yeah, me too,” I said without turning to face her.

This was adding up to trouble. And I was here specifically to avoid that. To have a peaceful, quiet week not working, the opposite of what I’d done almost constantly since my wife died two years ago.

Two years! How was that possible? It seemed like yesterday in some ways, yet in others, our entire relationship was all a dream. Much to my chagrin, I was forgetting—the sound of Liv’s voice, the way her hair used to fall forward, and she’d reach up to tuck it back behind her ear, the outlines of her precious face that I once knew so well. I felt like someone hanging off the edge of a cliff, clutching desperately at anything—rocks, branches, handfuls of dirt—anything not to forget.

            “Why are you here?” my seatmate asked, the liquor clearly loosening her tongue.

“I—um, haven’t had a vacation for a while.” And I wanted the privacy and space. Which I clearly wasn’t going to get with her next to me.

“I signed us up for first class even though Tyler said it was a waste. But I told him that it was our honeymoon, so why not? I’m usually frugal, but I mean, honeymoon. Come on.”

Do not turn your head, my inner self warned. Do.Not.Turn.Your.Head. I made it a point not to get involved with women in general. Women on the edge were a hard no.

“I should’ve known from the way he was so predicable—no surprises, you know? Predictable isn’t good—it’s boring. And he was so careful about money.” She dropped her voice. “Did you know that I have my own Amazon Prime account, so he wouldn’t get on my case about buying too many pairs of underwear? ‘Do you really need all of those pens?’ he asked me once.” She smacked her head. “How could I have been sooooo stupid?”

If I hadn’t put two and two together before, I did now, even without seeing the big rhinestone Bride spelled out in scrolly letters on her bright white sweatshirt. Her hair was in some kind of fancy updo. Well, apparently it used to be, because half of it wasn’t, and there were a couple of random pearl pins holding that sad half up. Her earrings were dangling drop pearls—in our wedding pictures, Liv was wearing nearly identical ones.

I’d gone a whole fifteen minutes without thinking of her. I blew out a breath and tried to distract myself from the ever-present ache in my chest. While Liv used to accuse me of having a savior complex, I wasn’t about to swoop in and indulge it today. Because today would have been our five-year wedding anniversary.

 Except she’d been gone for the last two. During the last few months of her life, she’d been obsessed with my getting to Turks and Caicos.

She’d visited there before we were married and once afterward with her friends. She made me promise to go on this anniversary. Even though we’d never been there together, and she knew she’d never make it back there herself.

I think she sensed what a train wreck I’d be and believed the trip would be good for me.

My best buds knew that I wasn’t going to handle this well, so they’d bought me this nonrefundable ticket and told me specifically not to come back until I got laid. I promised no such thing, but they practically forced me to go—even called me an Uber to make sure I didn’t back out.

I was about to Venmo them their ticket money back when something weird happened. I’d scrawled my Venmo password on a sticky note and stuck it somewhere—I know, dumb move—and was rummaging through my desk drawer when I found an old postcard. It was from the year before Liv died, from what turned out to be her final girls’ trip.

I don’t usually keep old things around, but I do of Liv’s. Photos, grocery lists in her handwriting, a bit of yarn she’d half-crocheted into a granny square. Little pieces of her I haven’t had the heart to let go of. The postcard was one of those things. The front showcased the aquamarine waters and the long stretch of pure white sand of Grace Bay Beach.

On the back she’d written, You’ve got to see this place! Promise me someday! It’s too beautiful to miss. xoxoxo

I don’t believe in omens, but this felt like one. Her gently nudging me to go and experience a place that had felt reviving and rejuvenating for her. Maybe she was telling me what I desperately knew—that I needed it. That I was leading a zombie life, dragging myself through, working myself to death to not feel the pain.

            So I got on this plane despite being terrified about what I was going to do with myself for an entire week at the beach. All that time to be alone with thoughts I spent most of my waking hours trying to shut out.

I heard tiny sniffling sounds coming from next door. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would block out the noises. Seconds passed.

She was still crying. Aw, hell.

            “Are you okay?” I asked my neighbor. This time, I fully turned.

            I saw her swallow hard, as people do when they are trying hard not to cry but failing anyway. She had a nice, elegant neck. She seemed very pretty, despite the fact that most of her face was shrouded behind her big dark glasses. Big black mascara trails from her full wedding makeup scrolled down her cheeks.

            Her straw made yet another sucking sound as she drained drink number two. She looked my way but didn’t answer. “I don’t know,” she said, then punched her call light. “May I please have another?” she asked another flight attendant who’d appeared as suddenly as a genie from a bottle and acquiesced to her request.

I cleared my throat. “We haven’t even taken off yet. Do you think you should—ah…”

            A fine crease appeared between her brows. “Surely, you aren’t going to do that.”

I lifted my brows in surprise, taken aback that she would give me some pushback at a time when she was so…distressed. “Do what?”

“Actually tell me what to do when you literally just met me.” She frowned. “Are you like Tyler too? Are all men like Tyler?” She paused. “And if the answer is yes, I am going to drink that third drink. And maybe a fourth too. Whatever. It. Takes.”

“Whatever it takes to…?”

            She shrugged. “To get drunk as quickly as I can.” To prove it, she worked hard on downing number three.

            “Look,” I said carefully, “do you want to talk about it? I mean, clearly, you’ve been through something.”

            “How do you know that?” she asked in mock surprise.

            I pointed to her feet. “Because you’re wearing mismatched shoes.”

She looked down. “Oh no.” She smacked her head and looked back at me. At least I think she was looking at me. “Did you know that my almost-mother-in-law wouldn’t be caught dead with mismatched anything? And she refused to wear any of the colors I suggested. Guess which color she chose?”

“Um, I don’t know. Black?”

“Do you know her?”

“Just a guess.” Seemed to me that the woman was a whole lot better off without Tyler and his mother, but I decided not to share that.

She sniffed again. “My nose is running. You wouldn’t have a tissue, would you?”

I didn’t. But I was good in a pinch. I emptied out half my food bag, came up with a napkin, and passed it over to her.

She blew her nose loudly and pointed to my bag. “Do you own a restaurant? Whatever’s in there smells great.”

“My aunts made it.”

“Your aunts made you food? For your journey? Aww. That’s so sweet.”

I smiled. Mainly because she was right. I had a great family. “In my family, food is love.”

“In my family, our hometown is love.” She laughed.

“I’m not sure I understand.”
“My parents were retired, living in Fort Myers. My dad golfed every day and was thinking of buying a boat. My mom belonged to three book clubs.”

“And?”

“And then they moved back home. To Wisconsin. To be near me!” she said in an exasperated tone.

“Well, that’s nice.”

“My mom and I don’t see eye to eye.” She paused and gestured to herself. “I’m not the daughter she wanted.” She rubbed her forehead. “Obviously.”

“I’m sure your parents are very proud of you regardless of what happened today,” I said because…well, what do you say to that? Besides, it would be better for both of us if she stopped crying.

            Just then, the loudspeaker crackled as the captain signaled our takeoff, and the plane began to cascade down the runway, gaining speed.

The woman, whose name I still didn’t know, clutched her chest. “Oh my goodness, I think I feel a little sick.”

I touched her arm. She felt cold, despite the sweatshirt. But even worse, her face had gone as white as her sweatshirt.

“Try deep breaths.” I went into ER mode. “Keep your head down.”

She inhaled deeply. “You were right,” she whispered. “Three was too many.”

Her hand came up to her mouth, which I recognized as the universal vomit sign. I quickly dumped out all my homemade goodies just in time to hand Santa over for his ultimate sacrifice.

And then she hurled.

People around us freaked out. “Ew, gross,” I heard from behind us. “Henry, did someone just puke?” came from the woman in front of me.

Despite being mid-takeoff, the flight attendant was on us in a flash, handing over wipes, tissues, a glass of cold water, and a brand-new barf bag. My seatmate’s face quickly went from pale to bright red as she wiped her mouth, shakily accepted the water, and thanked the attendant profusely.

All this before we hit 30,000 feet.

A minute later, my new friend sat back and lifted up her sunglasses. When she turned to me this time, I saw that her eyes were a clear, pale blue, lined like a raccoon with watered-down mascara, but still stunning. I immediately saw something in them that I was no stranger to—pain. “I’m really sorry,” she said. And then she started to cry.

* * *

Ani

 

On my way back from the bathroom, I paused in the aisle in front of my seatmate, crossing my arms to hide the fact that I was freezing. I also felt incredibly sober. “I want you to know that I’m normally a responsible person. I’m actually a pediatrician. I’m saying this because I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”

“What’s your name?” the man asked after I’d excused myself, climbed over his long

legs, and lowered myself back into my window seat. “I mean, I think we should be on a first-name basis after working together to avert a greater disaster, don’t you?”

He punctuated his statement with a winsome grin, which told me that with looks like his, he was probably used to being charming. The fact that he was joking did wonders for my embarrassment, which was painfully acute. He was nice and was clearly trying to help a woman who surely appeared to be losing it all around.

For the first time, I noticed that he had a head full of thick wavy hair and enough lean muscle to be an easy contender for a name-brand underwear ad. My looks were a completely different story. While I’d managed to finger-brush my teeth, it was impossible to make my hair look normal after the stylist had sprayed an entire bottle of intense-hold hairspray all over it this morning, giving it the consistency of frozen leaves.

            “My name is Ani.” I handed him a clean plastic bag I’d procured from our saintly flight attendant. “For your goodies.” Which were now tucked into the seat pocket in front of him. Also, he’d taken off his black quarter zip and left it on my seat. Out of necessity, I’d pitched my sweatshirt in the bathroom trash and was now so cold I had to grit my teeth to prevent them from chattering. But surely he couldn’t be offering me, a complete stranger, his jacket. I picked it up as I sat down.

            “Your name is pronounced Oni?” he asked. “Not Annie?”

            “That’s right.” Why was he even talking to me? I looked like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket. And I’d barfed in his Santa bag. Geesh.

            “I’m Adam,” he said, extending his hand. When I grasped it, he squeezed with a gentle but firm pressure. Comforting. He had nice hands. And they were warm. Which I definitely wasn’t.

            “Listen, Adam. I’m so sorry. I—I don’t usually drink and I—”

            He scanned me, taking in all my disarray. And my white camisole. I quickly crossed my arms over my chest to hide what I was sure was even more of a show. “You’re clearly having a bad day, he said. “No apologies necessary.”

            “A really bad day,” I emphasized. “I’m sorry about…Santa.”

            “He was irreplaceable.”

            “Oh no—” I stared at him in horror and pulled out my phone to make a note about searching for the bag on the internet.

            He stopped me by touching my arm. “I’m kidding. I saved the food. Now that’s valuable.”

            That made me smile a little. Then I remembered his jacket. “Here.” I held it out to him, secretly hoping that he’d meant to leave it there for me. Please, God, because this plane was now the temperature of Antarctica.

            He pushed it away. “I don’t need it. Just put it on.”

            With a grateful nod, I did and felt instant relief. It smelled clean and spicy, like guy soap or deodorant but not as nose-stinging as strong cologne. As a doctor, I noticed these things because in the hospital, we didn’t wear strong scents. No one wants to smell pungent cologne when they’re sick.

            As I drank more water, my stomach rumbled loudly.

            From the seat pocket in front of him, he pulled out a little plastic-wrapped triangle from his stash. “Try one.”

            As I accepted it, I catalogued my diet for today. A cup of coffee over hair and makeup. Two mimosas. Half a bagel before I was interrupted for pictures. I didn’t even count the Bloody Marys. I bit into the triangular pie. It was wrapped in soft, homemade bread dough and stuffed with a lemony mixture of chopped spinach and pine nuts. And it was spectacular.

            Wow. “How wonderful to have aunts who feed you.”

            “I take it you don’t?”
“Only child, small family. No one cooks.” What I didn’t say was that we had staff for that.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked.

I snorted. “About my sad childhood?”

He smiled that nice smile again. I knew it would get to me if I were in any condition

to feel anything, which I obviously wasn’t. “Okay, fine. I didn’t really have a sad childhood. But I did stop my wedding. Literally a minute before I had to walk down the aisle. The boyfriend of one of my best friends had to go tell our two hundred and twenty guests that everything was off and to go home.” I rubbed my forehead, as if that would erase the memories. “It was horrifying.”

            He was still looking straight at me, listening intently, which made me wonder what his job was. An air traffic controller, maybe, with that sharp focus? “But not as horrifying as marrying your fiancé, apparently.”

             “Exactly.” The word came out in a choked whisper. “He’s not terrible. The worst thing he did was want a future completely different from the one I envisioned.” I lowered my head and sighed. “I don’t think I should have gotten on this plane. But I just…couldn’t stay. It’s all a blur.”

            I’d left a mess behind—reception food that would never be eaten, gifts that would never be opened, and a man I should never have said yes to in the first place. Why had I waited so long to break things off? This was a pattern in my life. Talking myself out of the hard truths in relationships.

            “Who thought it was a good idea to put you on this plane alone?” My seatmate’s tone made it clear that he thought that was the dumbest idea on the planet.

            “I think—I think my parents were embarrassed. Maybe they thought it was best for me to escape all the questions, the people, the mess. I don’t really know. I’m not sure I knew exactly what I was doing.”

I’d said way too much. I pondered in a raw panic what on earth I was going to do in a tropical paradise alone for seven whole days? This really had been the worst idea ever. As soon as I landed, I vowed to book the first flight back the next day.

I needed to change the subject fast, before the tears started falling again. “You’re meeting someone?” I mean, he had to be. The guy was gorgeous. He was going to a coveted, romantic destination, definitely not one you’d associate with a typical guy trip.

            “My wife passed away two years ago,” he said. “Turks and Caicos was one of her favorite places, and she’d always wanted me to see it. My friends bought me a ticket because they were worried about me.” He paused, but before I could ask why, he said, “I haven’t taken any time off since it happened. Frankly, I’m not so sure this is such a great idea either.”

            I suddenly felt even more awful. It was one thing to dump someone at the last second, and another to lose the love of your life. Honestly, I cared for Tyler, even loved him, but not in the absolute way I should have to marry him. Now that things had gone down this way, my predominant feeling was not sorrow. It was relief.

“I’m sorry about your wife,” I said. “My problems seem very small compared to that.”

I thought of the hassles awaiting me on my return—the roomful of unopened gifts that needed to go back and all the wasted money my parents had spent on the reception. Additionally, I’d bought an adorable house with Tyler that I would now never live in and would have to put back on the market.

My bigger problem involved wondering if I’d made the right choice moving home to Oak Bluff. Now that my parents were back, I’d have to confront the issues my mom and I had that we both tended to sweep under the rug. I’d signed with a local pediatric practice to fulfill my dream of practicing in my hometown, where I could truly know and care for my patients. But my partners and I couldn’t have been more different.

All I’d wanted was to settle in, and yet everything I’d done recently had been very unsettling. Except my worst disasters were nothing compared to Adam’s.

            He shook his head. “No. I mean, either case is—well, it’s giving up something that you thought would be forever.”

            “Now that I’m actually thinking about it, I always panicked at the forever part. But I kept telling myself that it was just normal nerves.”

 “My mom keeps telling me that recovering from any shock or tragedy takes time.” He had soft brown eyes that easily showed compassion. And while I didn’t exactly take comfort in his words, I gave him major points for trying.

 “Do you think she’s right?” I asked before I stuffed the last bite of the tasty spinach pie into my mouth.

Maybe I’d recover, but I was never dating again. I would sell the house and do my job with my unusual partners until I could afford to return to Milwaukee, where I’d trained, and lead a quiet life off the radar. No Ani-you’re-just-too-much, which was what my mom was fond of saying.

“Not sure.” He held out another pie, but I shook my head, not wanting to risk adding to my still-queasy stomach.

I settled my head back against the seat, suddenly suppressing a yawn. “I’ve been up since five a.m.,” I said. “Hair and makeup.” I lifted my hand up to my hair, but feeling the hopeless scope of the disarray and the strange, crunchy texture, dropped it back into my lap.

            “You should take a nap.”

            I glanced sideways at him. Maybe he was an angel, sent here expressly to prevent me from completely losing my shit. In any case, he was the best thing that had happened to me on this awful day. “Thank you for the food. And for being nice.”

            The soft, warm jacket, the good food, the kindness—it all helped to settle my mind and brought me to a place where exhaustion finally overtook me.

 

CHAPTER 2

Adam

            “How long does it take to get a cab to the airport?” Ani, standing at the reception counter, asked the concierge.

It was the next morning, and I sat in an open lobby surrounded by potted palms, tropical-colored sofas, and bright parrot prints on the walls. As I sipped my coffee, I pretended that I hadn’t been hanging out waiting for her—Ani—to show.

I was not stalking her. Being the sole person who knew of her crisis, I felt a responsibility to check on her and make sure she was okay. But now, apparently, she was leaving and going back to face the chaos she’d left behind.

            Good, I told myself. I was absolved of responsibility. Now go out there and get some sun.

I waited for relief to wash over me. After all, she was someone in the middle of a massive emotional crisis, and I was here for rest and relaxation, not to help a stranger who didn’t have anyone. Instead, I felt a strange twinge of disappointment.

            Maybe I’d somehow gotten myself too wrapped up in her plight. Maybe I was sitting here because this woman, whom I didn’t even know, had done something for me that no one else had been able to do in the two years since Liv passed—woken me up from the dead in some supercharged manner.

            Either way, I had no further obligation to help her. Even though that look in her eyes had haunted me, causing me to toss and turn all night. I sensed her absolute aloneness—because that was what I also had inside of myself.

The woman standing at the counter looked a lot different from yesterday. Petite in stature, she wore a navy sleeveless shirt, jean shorts, and sandals. She had a halo of blond curls—I never would have guessed that her hair was naturally curly—and no bird’s nests today. She looked appealing and pretty, like someone ready to enjoy a week in the sun.

            Plus, she had a really cute butt.

            Which really startled me. Because I’d been fairly dead below the belt since Liv died.

            But I swear, I was not interested in her that way.

            “Could I please schedule the cab for two p.m.?” she asked.

            Okay, she was definitely leaving. My heart sped up as it often did in the ER, and I found myself reacting before I could think. I stood up and intercepted her as she turned away from the concierge desk.

            That was when I saw her face. She wore no makeup, and her eyes were puffy. But she was stunningly pretty, far moreso than with the cakey, heavy makeup she’d worn yesterday.

            I should have known right then that I was in over my head.

            “Oh hi, Adam,” she said in a friendly tone. “You don’t have to check on me—I’m fine.”

            She’d called me out in her first sentence. “Great to hear it,” I said. She’d been blunt, so I would be too. “You’re leaving?”

            She bit her lower lip in worry. “I’ve got to go back and deal with the mess I made.”

            “That’s the physician in you talking.” Be careful, I cautioned myself. Don’t interfere. You don’t even know her.Yet I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

“What do you mean?”

“Responsible. Never giving up. That kind of thing. Most of us are like that.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Those aren’t bad traits.”

“No, but maybe sometimes it’s okay to let other people take care of things. After what you’ve been through, some might say it’s okay to take a few days off.”

“Wait.” She flicked her gaze up at me. “Did you say us?”

“I’m an ER doc.”

“Oh.” She took that in. “Well, thank you for checking on me. But I’m absolutely fine.”

“You look much better than yesterday,” I said. She looked amazing, period.

“In appearance maybe.” She tapped her head. “But in here, it’s still pretty wild.”

I laughed. I liked her self-deprecating humor. And the fact that she was able to joke after all she’d been through. It spoke of resilience, something I always respected in anyone because of my own situation. “Hey, you’re dressed, and your hair looks really nice. I mean, not like a bottle of glue got stuck in it.”

She almost laughed at that. But not quite. Instead, she smoothed down her curls and

 said, “Well…guess I’d better go pack up.” But she didn’t move.

Before I could think about what I was doing, I seized the moment. “Did you—did you have breakfast yet?” I could feel myself turning red, but I kept rambling. “Because I haven’t. You should have breakfast—with me. I mean, so that you don’t eat alone.” I couldn’t believe what I’d done. But something in me just couldn’t let her go.

Again, I heard that warning voice in my head. What the hell are you doing, Adam?

I didn’t really know. But before I could beat myself up more, she said, “I am a little hungry, now that you mention it.”

We walked toward an outdoor restaurant surrounded by palm trees and took a seat overlooking a sparkling aquamarine ocean. The water was calm, the breeze gentle, and the warm sun felt wonderful on my skin. I told myself I was doing this for her, but who was I kidding? Even knowing her such a brief time, I felt captivated, wanting to know more about her, not wanting to say goodbye forever.

Someone filled our cups with coffee. I looked over the menu but saw that Ani was staring off into the distance.

I shut I and set it down. “Not hungry?”

She smiled a little, but I could tell from her eyes that she was doing that on my behalf. “Coffee’s okay. Breakfast might be wasted on me.”

“Did you have dinner last night?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’m going to order us some things. And you can eat or not eat.”

“Honestly, I hope you don’t feel responsible for me—your basket-case seatmate on the plane.” She flicked her wrist dismissively. “I’m fine, really.”

I studied her carefully. “My guess is that you don’t like being fussed over.”

“Normally, I don’t need anyone to fuss over me.”

Independent. Strong. Those traits were coming out despite her crisis. But I needed her to understand something. “Look, I—I feel a little lost here. Helping you is giving me a little bit of purpose.” Or I’d be headed straight back on that plane today too. “So I’m just going to go for it, okay?”

She flashed a real smile this time, and it was a stunner. “Go for it.”

I went ham on breakfast and ordered crepes, eggs, fruit, yogurt, and a banana protein smoothie that she took a couple of sips of. I distracted her by telling her random stories about how I chose medicine, how my mom raised me as a single mom, and how all I wanted was to see her retire and enjoy herself.

Ani looked at her watch. “Almost time to go.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d just met her—who was I to want her to stay? But I did.

“I see it both ways,” she said.

I frowned. “See what?”

“I see a lot of chaos when I get back. And crying—not only from me. And friends trying to help me. Which means I’ll have to think about everything all the time. But here I have a lot of time to think too. So I don’t know what to do.”

“Exactly my problem.”

She assessed me carefully. “You’re really nice, but how do I know you’re not a serial killer?”

I opened my wallet. Handed her my hospital ID, my Fellow of the American College of Emergency Physicians, my driver’s license, my Giant Eagle card, and my library card.

She flipped through everything until she found the bright orange one at the back. “You have a library card?” She flipped it onto the table. “Then you must be okay.”

That made me wonder what kinds of books she liked. I found myself wanting to ask and felt guilty about it. Because I hadn’t been interested in anyone since Liv. But also because I shouldn’t be interested, of all women, in a runaway bride in the middle of a crisis.

“If I stay,” she said, “I don’t want to talk about Tyler, but I want to say one thing. He’s not a bad person, and I do love him. But he wasn’t my person. And he didn’t share my idea of a happy life.”

“What’s your idea of a happy life?” I couldn’t help asking.

“Happy chaos—you know, like, kids and dogs and…everything. That’s what I want someday—to be in the middle of the fray. Tyler envisioned our life as the kids having nannies and babysitters so we could have couple time over drinks every evening before we kissed our freshly bathed children goodnight.”

A cold sense of remorse hit me because I used to want that kind of happy chaos too. But not anymore. I could never give myself to anyone like that again, much less to a child. I was dead inside. Empty. I wasn’t exaggerating—that was the truth. But of course I kept that horrible fact to myself.

 “Did you and Liv have any kids?” she asked.

“We were trying for a baby before Liv got sick, but it never happened.” Month after month when Liv found out she wasn’t pregnant, she’d cry. That was heart wrenching, but even worse, the very day she was diagnosed with cancer, she’d looked up at me tearfully and said that it wasn’t ever meant to be. That was an awful moment, the first of the heartbreak. With a bitter taste in my mouth, I couldn’t help thinking that all our dreams and plans—our life together—was never meant to be.

I thought I was managing to keep my expression neutral, but Ani saw right through it. She reached over and squeezed my hand, her eyes filled with compassion. “I’m sorry.”

Her touch felt so good. No one had touched me in a long time. People comfort you, but no one touches you—it’s just a line that most people don’t cross. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. “It’s funny, how you believe you know how life is going to go. You fall in love, you get married, you expect things without even thinking about it. A house, a dog, kids. You don’t expect that the girl you knew since eighth grade would be gone forever by the time you were both thirty.”

Ani nodded and added, “Or you meet someone, and you decide to get married, but for whatever reasons, something feels off. And that feeling keeps eating away at you. Except in my case, I kept pushing those feelings away until it was almost too late.” She gave a thoughtful pause. “I don’t know what that must feel like—to love someone so much that it rips you apart to lose them.”

“Yeah.” I looked out over the water. “It would have been our fifth anniversary this week. Liv made me promise to take this trip. Somehow, she knew I’d try to work myself to death after she was gone.”

“We don’t have to talk about this anymore.”

“No—I—it’s okay.” I blew out a held-in breath. “I haven’t talked about Liv to anyone—I mean, after a certain point, you start to feel like you’re dragging people down, taking advantage of your friendships. You’re afraid that everyone will label you as a downer and avoid you, so you don’t talk about it. And everyone is sympathetic, but no one can really know what you’re going through. So you keep it to yourself and keep going. But it’s felt really good to say her name.”

Ani smiled. “Thanks for telling me all this, Adam. It’s made me feel less alone. I’m eternally grateful for your kindness.”

That pleased me far more than I could admit. “I have an idea. Let’s explore and see things, get moving. That way we don’t think about anything. That is—if you stay.”

She gave a little smile. “I’ll stay—for today. One day at a time, right?”

“Right.” I nearly fist-pumped. I had her for one day, and that felt thrilling. Honestly, I needed for us to get busy ASAP. Because despite all my good intentions and my rotten mental state, I found myself thinking about her.

* * *

Ani

On Tuesday, I said I’d stay until Wednesday, and on Wednesday, until Thursday. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was Thursday. By then we’d explored all the beaches and Chalk Sound National Park. We’d seen the underwater coral gardens at Bight Reef and taken an adorable Potcake dog for a walk at Potcake Place K9 Rescue. We ate at least two meals a day. I was starting to see the light of day. And I was feeling stronger.

We’d both booked flights to return home on Friday, which seemed reasonable if daunting. Except there was one problem—I was starting to really like Adam.

Which may have been turning into a bigger issue. I consciously tried not to look directly at him, because there were these strange moments when we just…connected. When our gazes would snag, and it was hard to look away. I know, I know, it was simply…hormones. Attraction, which I was pretty shocked to feel in my current state. I knew not to trust it, and did my best to steer clear of it.

Maybe our friendship was so raw and honest because I didn’t have the bandwidth for pretending. Whatever I felt, I said. I didn’t have the strength to hold back or cover anything up. While we didn’t talk about my wedding fiasco at length, Adam accepted my many silences, my sudden wanting to be alone, and my need to sleep like the dead. Once, he got emotional when we visited Grand Turk Lighthouse because he said Liv had described that iconic spot. In general, I felt that we could just be ourselves. The self that he got was probably close to me at my worst, but somehow, he made me feel okay with that.

By Thursday evening, I was also realizing that it would soon be time to say goodbye.

“We’ve seen a lot these past few days.” We’d hung out all day on Grace Bay Beach, and then drove to Providenciales for the iconic Thursday Fish Fry, which featured local food, music, and dance performances. It had been a feast of the colorful local culture.

And here I never thought I’d leave my room. I’d forced myself to get up and go each day because going was my lifeline. For that, I’d be eternally grateful to him.

“Today you ate breakfast, lunch, and supper.” He seemed very pleased with himself. And his nose was a little sunburnt, which was kind of cute.  He looked healthy and happy and not weighted down with his cares, which I felt I’d had some influence on.

“I’m going to write your aunts and tell them you’re a natural auntie too,” I said. “A caretaker.”

“Ha. Maybe.”

“Well, you’ve made sure I’ve eaten and showered and kept me busy so I didn’t think about things. I’m starting to actually think I can handle going back now.”

Our eyes met, and I felt a sudden flush of heat. Improbable as it was with me being such a mess of emotion, I became aware that we were on a beautiful island with a gentle breeze and a full moon. He was nice and funny, and I loved his kind brown eyes. I also knew that it was past time to say goodnight.

I would not want to become swept away by the magical beauty of this place. To use it—and him—to forget what was really going on in my life.

Yet being with him these past few days had saved me—from loneliness, from despair, from myself.

I was at a sudden loss for words because I was thinking awkward things. We’d chosen not to say things like, “What do you want to do tomorrow?” We’d sort of made it a rule to live in the moment, not look too far ahead or too far behind. Except that I was noticing the way he walked, long-legged strides, confidently. I was noticing how big his shoulders were, how lean his waist was. He was naturally curious. He kept up with current events. He read books. We sometimes ran out of things to say, but the silence was never awkward.

In other words, I was liking him way too much. But I was wise enough to know that anything I was feeling couldn’t be trusted.

“I’m going to say good night,” I said.

“Good night.” He made a theatrical bow with accompanying hand motions. Then he reached down and lifted my hand. Held it. Brought it to his lips and gave me a quick peck. “We had fun today, Ani Green.”

“Imagine that.” Despite his joking manner, heat flushed through me. I felt alive, like I wasn’t dead. Which was a miracle. Even the past six months with Tyler, I’d done a lot of faking, a lot of trying, a lot of hoping things would get better. Somehow, these days away had made me feel like there was hope for me to move forward, away from this terrible time.

Adam was staring at me. Our gazes met and held again. The firm but gentle grip of his hand, the soft touch of his lips on my skin; it all awakened something deep inside of me. My heart began a slow knock in my chest that kept accelerating. I knew what was happening. I couldn’t believe what was happening. But the sensible part of me had to stop it.

My hand was tingling from where he kissed it. “I-I don’t do one-night stands,” I blurted, and immediately wondered if I was completely off base. Even if I was, I had to let him know how I felt.

He looked around. “Did…did someone ask you to have one?”

“No! I mean, I’m sorry.” I could feel my cheeks heat up. “I must be getting my balance back because it seems that I just now noticed that you’re really hot.”

That was a mistake. Why hadn’t I toned it down, said cute or attractive or good-looking? At least I hadn’t said perfect, which he totally was, with those warm brown eyes and that strong jaw and that I-need-to-shave-twice-a-day five-o’clock shadow thing going on.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a slightly crooked smile that was very endearing, “even if it was questionable whether or not there were live birds involved in your hairstyle the other day.” I rolled my eyes at that. “I don’t either,” he added, “have one-night stands, that is.”

“I’m in no condition to do something I’d regret. I mean, I can barely deal with putting one foot in front of the other. I can’t add another bad decision on top of everything else I regret.” Although it was questionable if I could ever regret him.

“Agreed,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll say goodbye before we catch our planes.”

“Okay,” I said, pulling my keycard out of my purse. “Thanks for walking me back. The day was fun.” I opened my door and turned to him. “Can you believe I just said that? ‘It was fun.’”

“It was fun. Everything these past few days was fun.” He paused, his gaze controlled and neutral. “Good night.”

Maybe it was staring in at my bungalow and suddenly feeling so heartbreakingly alone. Or the fear of returning to reality, only a day away.

Or maybe it was the feelings that had been awakened out of nowhere that kept tugging on me like the tide. Or the warm, salt-tinged breeze. Impulsively, I turned and grabbed his hand. “Don’t go.”

He took a sharp intake of breath. He stared at where I clasped his hand, then up at me, his eyes full of struggle.

My pulse pounded out a quick, steady thrum. My hand was still tingling. Heck, all of me was.

“I’m sorry.” I released his hand. “I—I guess I’m a little afraid of being alone. You know, saying goodbye. You were a nice person to lean on these past few days. I guess reality is just hitting me again.” I turned back to my door to go in.

This time, he grabbed my hand. With a gentle tug, he pulled me to him. I landed in his arms, staring up at him, his arms wrapping around me. We were so close, I could see the way his Adam’s apple moved when he swallowed. The arch of his brow, the set line of his jaw. A warm breeze teased us, ruffling his hair. The moonlight emphasized the heat in his eyes.

He let go of my waist and said in a throaty voice, “Ani, I think you’re really fun and really special. But I don’t want—I don’t think this is a good idea. We’re both too—”

I don’t know who kissed whom first, but I found his soft, warm lips on mine. My arms tangled around him, my hands skimmed the long, elegant planes of his back, his neck, the thick silk of his hair. Our kisses grew deeper, more fervent, desperate. He traced a trail of them down my neck, making me gasp, before we both somehow managed to stumble through the doorway. We ended up against the wall, his body pinned against mine, all hard muscle, soft murmurings, and featherlight touches as he reached his hands under my blouse and stroked my back.

We made love on that bed, under the beamed ceiling, with the A-frame glass overlooking the full moon and the ocean, and it was tender and passionate and playful. Maybe I was trying to make a quick, impulsive decision mean something deeper, but that night, Adam made me feel like I was worth loving.

That despite my mistakes and missteps and whatever I’d done or hadn’t done that had led me to that preacher in front of all my friends and family before I’d finally found the courage to say no—despite everything—I was going to be okay. He gave me understanding and comfort and acceptance. Support when I’d needed it most. Laughter over silly nonsense we shared that I’d never told anyone before. I trusted him completely.

And afterward, I fell into a deep, drugged sleep.

* * *

Adam

 

            A phone was ringing and ringing. I startled awake, disoriented, taking in the room. Beams of moonlight slanted over the bed, the sounds of the tide entering through the windows along with the balmy air. Finally, my gaze landed on the woman next to me, covered by a sheet, her shoulders bare.

            For a moment, it was a dream—the moonlit night, the surf, Ani next to me. And everything was good, it was happy, it was exactly the way it was supposed to be.

            But as I became more awake, I remembered the frantic coming together, the act of comfort and caring—the desperation.

            I rubbed my forehead. What had I done?

            There was no further time to think. I groped around on the floor until I found the offending device. Ani’s phone told me it was 11:45 as I walked over to the bed and gently shook her shoulder. She lifted up her head from the pillow, her blond curls spilling everywhere.

            “Someone named Mia’s calling,” I said, handing her the phone.

            “Hello?” she said, sleep in her voice. “Mia, hi! I—um—fell asleep early. Wait—what?” She sat bolt upright, clutching the sheet to her chest. “In this lobby?” More pause. “Oh my gosh, you didn’t. Sam too? I-I’m speechless.” She stood, sheet and all, and hopped around, gathering her clothes. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll be right down.”

She hung up the call and tossed the phone onto the bed. “My best friends are in the lobby.”

            “This lobby? Like, here?” None of my advanced degrees appeared to be helpful in making the truth penetrate my thick skull.

“Yes, here. They somehow got time off. They flew in after work!”

“Oh.” I sounded disappointed, which, I have to be honest, I was. I rubbed my neck. “I mean, yeah. You have great friends.” But I didn’t mean it. Because those friends were going to make me give her up sooner than I’d expected.

“I do have great friends.” She grabbed my arm. Her touch was light and warm, and I wanted to grab her hand and kiss it, kiss her arm, kiss every part of her over and over again.

I grasped her hands tightly. Her gaze searched mine. I tried not to look agonized, but that was exactly how I felt. “Ani.” I took her in—her wide-open eyes, her heart-shaped face, her halo of hair that caught the light in so many different ways. My voice came out strained, serious. “We created a bubble here. One that we knew would eventually have to burst.”

She nodded in agreement. “We’d be fools to think that this was anything more than two people seeking comfort at a time when we both really needed it.” Then she smiled brightly. “Because of you, I reduced my uncontrollable crying from ten to five times a day. Big improvement. Huge.”

“And I’ve actually gone and seen this beautiful place instead of staying in my room reading my journals.”

“Neither of us is in a good place.” She was right, of course.

“I would never want to be a regret.”

I could feel both of us mulling that over. Tension lay heavily in the air, which smelled scented and tropical and felt like a warm caress.

A last one.

“You could never be a regret,” she said softly.

“You deserve the best.” We stared at each other for a few long heartbeats. I couldn’t breathe. My pulse was skittering. My body flooded with a warm heat that I recognized as desire. It felt wonderful because I was actually feeling something other than pain. And it felt bittersweet because we’d only just begun, yet it was time to end.

She teared up because we both knew that this was it. This was goodbye.

“Maybe we’ll meet again when—when things are different,” she said. “I mean, Normal Me is kind of nice. You’d like her.”

I tried to smile, but it was hard. I’d thought that getting to know her these few days was harmless, that it would leave no scars. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure. “I like you now,” I said, gathering her into my arms one last time.

When she looked at me, she was tearing up.

I tipped up her chin, made her look at me. “No matter what happens next, you’re going to be fine. You’re going to go out there and make a huge splash in the world.”

            She nodded, lips pursed, trying not to cry. “How do you know that?”

            “Because you’re not afraid to follow your heart when things feel wrong. You were bold enough to act.”

 A tear rolled down her cheek, but she was smiling. “Your friendship these past few days has meant everything. You prevented me from drowning in my sorrow.”

“Same.”

She reached over and touched my cheek. I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting to remember her touch. I grasped her hand and held on.

“I’ll never forget you,” I whispered.

Then I kissed her one last time and forced myself to leave.

 

**~**

Hope you enjoyed the first chapters of Take Me Home to You, coming soon in ebook and print! 

Take Me Home to You is the 3rd book in my Doctors of Oak Bluff series. They can each be enjoyed as standalone books, but are best enjoyed as part of the series.

 

 

 

99 Cents Sale ~ Happy 4th of July Weekend!

Posted by Miranda Liasson on Thursday, July 3, 2025 at 7:55 am in Uncategorized | 0 comments

Woo hoo – something fun for you for the holiday weekend!  Don’t miss this great price on my newest release, Take Me to the Wedding, 99 cents for just a few days!

Enemies to lovers

Best friend’s brother

Matchmaker

Doctors of Oak Bluff romance series 

Have a happy and safe 4th!

Excited to Let You Know That Take Me to the Wedding is Here!

Posted by Miranda Liasson on Friday, May 9, 2025 at 7:55 am in Uncategorized | 0 comments

Ebook

Amazon.com (and available via Kindle Unlimited)

Print

Amazon.com

Barnesandnoble.com

Booksamillion.com

Walmart.com

Bookshop.org/IndieBound

Also orderable through your favorite bookstore!

 

Read Sneak Peek Chapters of Take Me to the Wedding!

Posted by Miranda Liasson on Wednesday, April 9, 2025 at 4:06 pm in Uncategorized | 0 comments

 

 

 

 

 

Prologue

Caleb

If you’re lucky, you’ll know the exact moment that you meet the love of your life. A chance meeting, a glance, a quick lock of the gaze, and wham! Your life is changed forever. You’ve found your person, someone you’ll be there for forever, and they’ll be there for you, no matter what life throws at you.

I, Caleb D’Angelo, was eighteen when it happened to me. I never thought anything or anyone could ever come between us. Call me a romantic. Or just call me someone who believes in the power of true love.

But stuff happens—life happens—and Lilly and I didn’t survive my move to med school. We were so young when we started dating. We had zero experience in the world. Med school turned into residency, and I moved on. At least, I tried. Outwardly, I’m sure it seemed like I was having a lot of fun. Yes, I dated around. I’m not bragging when I say I was pretty popular, and finding someone to date was never hard.

But finding someone to love is.

The truth is, I’ve never stopped wondering what if with Lilly. And now she’s free. Except someone I work with spread some gossip about me, and it got back to her.

As for that annoying colleague of mine who thought the worst of me and ruined my chances with the woman I love—well, she’s impossible. As much as I’m easygoing and friendly, she’s driven, outspoken, and never fails to give me a hard time. She’s judgy and she hates my guts. We clash so much that I finally did something about it. I asked for another anesthesiologist for my case. Anyone besides her.

That made her dislike me even more. The problem is that I have to be nice to her because she’s my sister’s best friend. And we’re both in the same wedding at the end of this summer. And, ironically, so is Lilly. All three of us. Yay.

But I’m not going to let Samantha Bashar ruin my chances with Lilly—again.

I have a plan. I’m going to find out if Lilly and I are meant to be together. And nothing—and no one—not even the she-devil herself—is going to stand in my way.

I’m going to hold my friends close… and my enemies even closer.

 

CHAPTER 1

Samantha

I rolled back the curtain to the patient bay in the presurgical area of Children’s Milwaukee and gave a thumbs-up to a nine-year-old boy lying on a gurney, looking small and stark against the white sheets. Flanked on either side by his worried parents, he lifted a skinny arm, now attached to an IV board, giving me a gap-toothed smile and a thumbs-up right back.

That smile melted me and made me want to live up to all that trust in his eyes. “Hey, my man, you ready?” I did a fist bump with his non-IV-boarded hand.

“Yep,” he said with a big nod and a grin, full of positive energy despite being less than an hour away from a third surgery on his right femur, which had been badly fractured in a car accident a year ago.

“Let’s do it then.” I smiled at his parents, who didn’t look nearly as calm, his dad anxiously tapping his foot and his mom holding her hands tightly in her lap.

I saw the fear in their eyes. Surgery was scary. But it was also life-changing. And this one would finally give Joseph a chance to be a normal kid again by evening out the length of his legs so he’d be able to run—not limp. It would give him wings.

“Hi, Dr. Bashar,” Joseph’s mom, Terry, said. “We’re so relieved you’ll be doing Joey’s case today.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I said.

“After this one, I’m gonna be GTG,” Joseph said.

I shot Joseph and his parents a puzzled look. “Good to go,” Terry said, smoothing her son’s hair back from his forehead. “Dr. D’Angelo taught him that.”

Dr. Caleb D’Angelo, the pediatric orthopedic fellow—meaning he’d finished his orthopedic residency and was doing a special fellowship year in pediatric orthopedics here at Children’s—would be doing the case today. He was a good doctor, but we didn’t get along at all. But because he was my best friend Mia’s brother, I had to at least try.

“I’m going to play baseball and run track. Right, Dr. Sam? That’s what Dr. Caleb said.”

“That’s the plan, Stan,” I said as I prepared to do my routine preop assessment.

“My name’s not Stan,” he said with a giggle.

His hopeful and trusting demeanor tore me up inside. It roused all my protective instincts, as it did with all the kids I cared for as a pediatric anesthesiologist in my last few months of training. Then I’d be GTG, ready for a real job. And I couldn’t wait.

Joseph’s dad, Henry, squeezed his son’s leg. “Last surgery, buddy. Let’s get it done.”

“Hey, everyone,” my friend Ani, who was Joseph’s pediatrician, called from behind me. She showcased a bright smile and two to-go cups of coffee that she passed out to his grateful-looking parents. Funny what a good cup of coffee could do during a stressful time. “I just stopped to say hi and break a leg,” she said. Joseph frowned. “That means good luck, but maybe that’s a bad joke. Hey, y’all, I have to borrow Dr. Bashar for a minute, but we’ll be right back!”

Ani was a human tornado, full of energy and endless optimism, all jam-packed into a five-foot-two frame. She was getting married in the middle of June, in just three weeks, and I was lucky enough to be one of her bridesmaids even if I personally didn’t believe in love—at least for myself. But I tried to keep that opinion quiet.

Before I knew it, I was being pulled by the elbow down the bright central aisle of the surgical floor by a petite powerhouse of a woman with a halo of blond curls as a parade of people in scrubs all colors of the rainbow passed by, some dragging EKG and portable X-ray machines, others cradling their own early-morning Starbucks. Almost everyone smiled.

That’s how it was in a children’s hospital. No one was here for themselves. And everyone had one mission—the kids. I was so proud to work here.

“Sam, I’m so sorry,” Ani whispered, stopping halfway down the hall, which filled me with sudden dread. “There’s been a last-minute switch. Erin’s been named anesthesiologist on this case, ortho fellow’s orders. I tried to buy you some time—I told her to come back in ten minutes to do the pre-op interview.”

My first reaction was confusion. Last-minute switches were unusual. “The ortho fellow took me off the case?” Suddenly the truth dawned. “Caleb?”

Ani didn’t need to nod. The solemn look in her eyes confirmed everything. Hot indignation boiled my blood. “He did this.” He being that awful splinter in my heel, the one person I tended to lock horns with personally and professionally.

Unbelievable—but predictable since there’d been no love lost between us from the very first time we’d met. I tapped my finger against my lips as I paced, trying to wrap my head around the fact that the peds ortho fellow I despised the most was about to prevent me from doing my job on a case. Not any case: Joseph’s case. I’d been in on both previous surgeries. I had a special place in my heart for this family. They knew and trusted me.

Some people thought that anesthesiologists were good at technology and procedures but had little bedside manner, but that was not true. One of the most important things we do daily is to help to calm and reassure patients and families on some of the scariest days of their lives.

Ani squeezed my arm. “I’m really sorry, Sam. Go talk with him.” I immediately started to take off to do just that, but she held me back one last time. “More flies with honey,” she warned.

“Thanks,” I mumbled. She knew me too well. My tendency to jump into anything with both feet was good for tense situations in the OR but sometimes bad for conflict resolution. I often spoke my mind first and thought later. I guess that was why I wasn’t a diplomat.

This time I had to be careful. I was in the last months of my pediatric anesthesia fellowship, and I’d applied to join the anesthesia group here at Children’s. I couldn’t afford to be unprofessional no matter how annoying Caleb was.

This was the first time any of our conflicts had escalated to this level. I’d make sure it would be the last. I couldn’t allow anything to interfere with getting this job.

I strode at a fast clip across the massive pre-op area, my bright pink Danskos squeaking on the shiny tile floor. Around me, the floor was coming to life: the screek of curtains being pulled back on patient bays, gurneys being wheeled down the central aisle as the massive surgical unit buzzing to life under the bright white lights like the floodlights of a movie set. Lights, camera, action.

I passed the giant whiteboard with all the day’s cases. Sure enough, my name had been erased and replaced by my colleague Erin’s.

I struggled to slow my breathing. A quick touch to my cheeks indicated that they were as fiery as my temper. This was sadly my normal reaction to Caleb. Nothing I did helped me to calm down. I was the emoji with the brains about to blow off its head.

One final turn and the object of my wrath came into plain sight. He stood at the central nursing station, his tall frame a little hunched over as he quietly examined an electronic tablet in his hands, prepping for his first surgery.

We’d miraculously managed to be civil to one another, especially at work. But this… this stunt meant war. I approached the desk where he was deep in thought, his thick, wavy hair tumbling forward as he read.

Before I could speak, Dr. Agarwal, one of the ortho attendings, walked up and slapped him on the back. “You ready, son? I’m just going to stand by and watch. The helm is yours, okay?”

Caleb saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain. As ready as I can be, sir.”

Their interaction was friendly and harmless, a show of both how well Caleb was liked and his easygoing humor. It also showed—to me, a female physician—how male physicians spoke to each other. Would any attending, female or male, call me “daughter?”

I understood that I had built-in anger toward charismatic men: my mother had been briefly married to one, my father. After their divorce, he swept in and out of my childhood, promising the world and delivering only disappointment after disappointment, until finally he left for good. And my mother had ultimately done the same. So I saw through Caleb’s charisma better than most. I tolerated him for Mia’s sake and for the occasional times we had to share an OR.

My grandma, Oma, had warned me that a man could be a woman’s downfall as had been my mother’s. I prided myself on being the type of woman who didn’t need that kind of man or, frankly, any man for that matter. Love was a fairy tale. Independence, strength, and self-sufficiency were what mattered. Men could be fun, but in general, they all sucked. I’d never had any reason to believe otherwise.

Dr. Agarwal left and I stepped up. A soapy smell filled the area surrounding Caleb that I immediately identified as Spring Fresh Dial, my own money-saving favorite that I bought in twelve-packs from the Dollar Store. Okay, so he smelled clean, and his looks might have been kissed by the angels, but I was not deterred. Looking around, I saw several people charting and making phone calls behind the massive nursing station. “Can I talk to you?” I asked while gesturing with my head toward a nearby door that led to the back transport hallway.

We walked through the double doors into the hallway, which was empty for now except for a lineup of clean gurneys along the sides. I waited for the doors to fully close behind us before I confronted him. “Why did you bump me from that case?” I struggled to keep my voice calm and even as Ani had advised.

He looked at me, his pale green eyes quietly assessing me, starting with my bright pink clogs, which caused him to lift a brow in disdain, up to my safari-print scrubs (hey, I work in a children’s hospital) and my bouffant-cap-covered hair, ready for the OR. I ignored the unusual but intriguing color of his eyes and his calm, intelligent—if derisive—gaze. Women tended to fall at his surgical shoe-covered feet. His smiley, glass-always-full personality drew men and women like a magnet. But I found him childlike and entitled.

His thick, dark brows knit down in a frown as he seemed to carefully search for words. As if he could actually defuse the bomb that he’d already detonated. “Yes, that was me,” he said, not really answering my question.

“At least you’re not denying it.”

He exhaled and then spoke carefully. “Look, Samantha, it wasn’t a professional decision. You’re good at what you do. But you’re so—” His voice trailed off.

I crossed my arms and urged him to continue as I silently plotted his demise. “So…?”

“…argumentative,” he said decisively, filling in the blank. “Headstrong. Obstinate.”

“That’s three adjectives telling me I’m determined. One would be plenty, thanks.”

I was focused and goal-directed—and proud of it. I didn’t allow people to trample on me. I stood up for myself. I’d had plenty of practice getting places on my own strength—my own stubborn will. Unlike him, who cruised by on his good looks and who played—a lot—instead of being serious. Who dated and discarded women faster than Kleenex. In fact, his latest victim had been my friend Nora, a nurse practitioner from the NICU, whom he’d recently reduced to an endless font of tears.

“I didn’t want to deal with your, um—determination—in the OR during a tough case,” he said. “It’s unprofessional. Not to mention bad for patient care. And distracting.”

“I am good at what I do.” I enunciated every word slowly and carefully. “And I’m never unprofessional.” I would never create drama, especially in the OR, that sanctum sanctorum where any careless error could mean the difference between life and death.

“You get along with everyone except me. You disagree with me on everything—publicly.”

I frowned. “Like what?”

“You always give me grief when I ask you to turn up the pain control.”

I tossed up my hands. “A surgeon has no conception of how much pain control the patient needs. I’m monitoring the patient while you surgerize, remember?” I tapped my chest a little too emphatically. “My job.”

He did not appear convinced. “The table was too high, and when I ask you to lower it, you huff.” He looked down his nose at me, which I had to say was his only imperfect feature. It was a little bit large, with the tiniest bit of a dorsal bump. Staring at that tiny imperfection gave me the courage to gather my thoughts.

Maybe I had fought him on some petty things. But if I was defensive, it was because he irritated me in a way that no one else did. “I know this family. I’ve done the anesthesia on both of Joseph’s other surgeries. You know how much this means to me.”

I had to shut down this entire issue fast. If the anesthesia chair, Dr. Benson, found out, I’d be crossed off the prospective employee list faster than the time it takes for the sedating effect of a Propofol drip to kick in.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb said firmly, “but I can’t have power struggles in my OR.”

I shook my head, momentarily speechless. “‘My OR?’” A voice in my head told me to put on the brakes. Think of Mia. His sister, my best friend. I would never do anything to put our friendship in jeopardy. Mia was wonderful, the dearest friend I’d ever had, and she was everything her dumb brother wasn’t.

More urgently, all of us—Mia, Caleb, and I—were in Ani’s wedding. She was marrying Tyler Banks, an invasive cardiologist who did things like place stents in clogged arteries, implant pacemakers, and open tiny coronary arteries with balloons. In truth, his personality was a bit invasive too, but that was another story.

Their wedding was in three weeks, on June 14, and there was a bonding wedding party weekend coming up next weekend at a farm in Waukasaw, about two hours away, which actually included the beautiful outdoor venue Ani and Tyler had selected.  We had to at least pretend to get along for the sake of our friends.

Even more urgently, my car was in the shop, and Caleb and I were the only ones headed way out there in the middle of nowhere from Milwaukee. My wheezing, chronically ill car, which was all I could afford after meeting all of my sister’s college expenses, had undergone cardiac arrest, and the nice mechanic down the street from where I lived, Hal, was struggling to save it. He’d said it would be a miracle for the car to be resuscitated in time for the farm weekend.

I was praying for one, because after this incident, I would never step into a vehicle with Caleb. I wouldn’t trust myself not to commit a felony. It looked like I would be forking over the bucks on a rental because my pride would never allow me to ask him for a ride.

I balled and unballed my fists, thinking. He noticed. That was the trouble with him—he always noticed.

His mouth twitched. He was amused at my indignation, and that did it. I closed my eyes and shook my head and took a breath, but none of that stopped everything I was feeling from spilling out like a flood. “The fact that you think you can cancel me—publicly—on a whim just because you don’t like me, and your attending actually allowed you to get away with that, says everything. You are a stereotypical meathead ortho guy. Handsome, but all muscle and no brains.”

Okay, maybe I went too far.

Yep. I was met with complete, hulking, deadly silence. The pale green eyes glared.

Good. I’d made him feel my anger. Why hold back? Except now I’d be walking to

Waukasaw next weekend.

“Wow,” he said, staring at me. “Handsome, huh?”

I spun toward him. “What?”

There was that too-bright, mocking grin. “You said I was handsome.”

I could. Not. Deal. With. Him. I took a step back and prepared to go.

“This isn’t a joke,” I said to his face.

I desperately needed this job. To stay close to Wynn, my nineteen-year-old sister, who was in college at UW. Also, I loved this hospital. I loved the complex and challenging cases. I loved teaching. All things I couldn’t do in a smaller place.

Caleb crossed his arms and looked down at me. Way down, because oh man, was he tall. I would guess six-four to my five-nine. “No one will know about the switch unless you make it known. And I’m sorry about Joseph. But Erin stays.”

The hydraulic double door swooshed open behind us. “Joseph’s family is asking for Sam,” Ani said in a pleasant tone. She walked over, handed me a clipboard, and turned to Caleb. “Maybe you’d like to go in there and tell them why you don’t want her in there?”

He shook his head and sighed heavily. Crossed his arms.

She dropped her voice. “Plus this is ridiculous. You’re both in my wedding. And I’m the bride. Get it together, both of you.”

He was silent for a moment. “Okay, fine,” he said finally. The words came out heavy and flat, as if it nearly killed him to say them. Then he narrowed his eyes at me. “This is a complicated case, and I don’t want any distractions.”

“You have my word, Dr. D’Angelo.” I shot a grateful look at Ani, took the clipboard, and left.

For now, this was about our patient. I could wage the war with Caleb later. And make no mistake, there would be war.

 

CHAPTER 2

Samantha

One Week Later

It was nine p.m., and Caleb still wasn’t home. I squinted through the peephole and peered into the second-floor hall of the hundred twenty-five-year-old Queen Anne Victorian that we both called home, but the door across the hall from my apartment remained closed and silent. I listened for the crunch of his tires on the gravel drive—nothing.

It had been a week since our little—um—confrontation, and since then, we’d both managed to carefully avoid each other.

But I had a problem. That farm-bonding weekend was coming right up, and my car was still bone dead, waiting on a part that still wasn’t in. I’d have to borrow a friend’s car or rent one, plain and simple. The third option, asking a favor from a person I considered despicable? Ugh. My pride hurt to ask the first and third favors, and I couldn’t really afford option two after barely squeaking by—between loans and my savings—to meet my sister’s tuition payment for a class she had to retake this summer.

Yes, retake. Take again. As in paying twice. Ouch.

I wrung my hands as I paced my apartment, talking to my little sister, Wynn. “Did you say you got a job in the perfume department?” I’d just learned that she’d definitely not been planning on spending the summer doing research in a lab with a medical researcher like we’d planned. Working in the perfume department of a department store was not going to be a good cred to get her into medical school. Unless she was doing chemistry experiments there.

In between glances through the peephole, I paced the solid oak floor. It creaked in a few places, which ordinarily I barely noticed, but in my present state, every sound was like chalk on a blackboard.

“My job at Winterfield’s starts next week,” Wynn said. “So I have the restaurant job and this new one. Isn’t that great?”

She’d mastered an enthusiastic tone, but it sounded fake to me. Which made me worry, worry, worry. Wynn was emotional, excitable, and young—the opposite of me, who was steady, even-keeled, and cautiously thrilled about only a few things. Plus she was just nineteen, a far cry from my own age of thirty-two. I didn’t want her to have a truckload of worries, especially financial ones.

But it felt like I was going on fifty-two, because the trouble was that I found myself constantly straddling the gap between sister and parent, something that you’d think I should’ve mastered by now except for the fact that my sister was always throwing me curve balls. While I wanted her to enjoy her time away at college, something I’d never truly been able to do, I wanted—make that needed—her to have a secure future. Basically, I needed her off the payroll ASAP. And that meant her passing her classes with flying colors, focusing, and declaring a major in the appropriate time frame to graduate in four years. Easier said than done.

The parent part of me couldn’t let her off the hook. “I thought you were coming home to take calc here in Milwaukee this summer.” Because summer housing was yet another expense I hadn’t counted on. Plus I wanted her here. I wanted our relationship to be what it used to be, before our grandmother died a year and a half ago.

“Home?” she asked in a deadpan tone.

I knew the problem. Last year, after Oma died, I’d sold her house, and Wynn had not forgiven me for getting rid of the only home we’d ever had even if that money was now helping to fund her college. And even though Oma’s neighborhood was becoming crime-ridden and scary—not the home-sweet-home fantasy anyone would dream about.

We were homeless, so to speak. A bit unmoored, but I’d vowed to be the glue. We’d always stuck together—except now there was a chasm between us. And I didn’t know how to bridge it.

“Yes, home. Home with me.” Not that this tiny apartment was so great, but I’d made the big bay window a sleeping alcove. I’d bought a cute futon with bright pillows and hung flowery curtains for privacy all around it. With the naturally quirky nature of this old home, that arrangement would work out great. Except that Wynn was throwing me a plot twist.

“To retake calculus,” I added.

That was the elephant in the room: She’d failed calculus last fall. Not because, like a lot of us, her brain simply didn’t get calculus, but because she’d met a boy first semester and had fallen madly in love with him—and had stopped going to class.

Ugh. A boy named Miles, whom I hadn’t even met yet.

I was completely out of my wheelhouse here. The only reason I’d made it to college in the first place was my smarts, and without total focus, I wouldn’t have survived. My future would have had as great a chance of being as chaotic as our mother’s, who’d gone from bad job to bad job and worse man to worse man. Until one day she’d left us behind too, in Oma’s care. Which was probably for the best for everyone.

“I want to work this summer.” Wynn’s tone was insistent. “That’s more important.”

More important than retaking calculus? “I admire that you want to work.” So did my bank account. “But med school admissions committees aren’t going to be excited about the perfume job.”

I’d sent her the names of some doctors who were taking students to work in hospital labs for the summer and therefore take part in research—the typical med school application credential. If she could get into a prestigious lab and get her name on a cutting-edge scientific paper, it would be a great thing to put on her CV. I’d helped her fill out the applications—but she hadn’t said anything about hearing back.

This was a different attitude from before… the boyfriend. Miles, who didn’t seem to care about things like passing classes and planning for a good future. I looked down to find that I’d shredded a bunch of tissues into confetti on my kitchen counter as I talked.

I suppose that was better than nail biting or drinking, but still.

“I want to save up until I can pay for the class I have to retake,” Wynn said. “And I want to stay here.” There was a long pause. “With Miles.”

Shred, shred, shred, shred, shred.

I supposed I should be glad she’d taken the perfume job. That job would be in addition to her job waitressing at a very chichi restaurant in downtown Madison. But would her grades suffer even more? When she first got the waitressing job, I practically broke out in hives every night thinking of her walking out of the restaurant alone and taking public transportation home late at night.

So I’d bought her a used car, even as the dollar signs racked up. So many dollar signs that they appeared in my dreams at night. I’d been supporting both of us on a resident’s salary, loans, plus all the moonlighting jobs I could find, including one spending weekend nights at a local psych hospital doing admission physicals on patients. Despite all that, the expenses felt endless.

That’s okay, I told myself. It wouldn’t last much longer. After three years of anesthesiology residency, I was now in a fourth year of training, a special year of pediatric anesthesiology fellowship—and I was finally applying for a real job. After years of sacrifice, real income was just around the corner.

“Don’t worry about me,” Wynn said. “I’m fine. Maybe I’m not as smart or as independent as you, but I’m finding balance. I’m learning how to study and have a social life.”

That was a hit directed at me—the fact that I’d studied and worked my way through college. Even in med school, I worked as a phlebotomist from four a.m. to seven a.m. four mornings a week. My sister was now telling me I was one dimensional. Unbalanced. And too independent. She probably wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t have a choice. I chose to tamp down the insult even though it hurt a little. “You are smart. And I’m glad you’re finding balance.”

Not worry? Impossible. And her tone—so disdainful! I bit my tongue as I thought of more disasters. Was she using birth control, like I’d preached many times? But if I said that now, I was afraid she’d hang up.

I agonized. I shredded. I was wasting the whole fricking box of tissues. But it was better than losing my mind. No lab job, no calculus retake, no return home to be with me for the summer. No, no, no.

“You’re using birth control, right?”

That was met with dead silence as I’d predicted. I had to ask. If I didn’t and something happened, I’d never forgive myself.

“Yes,” she finally answered, exasperation in her voice.

“Okay, just checking.” I tried to strike a more positive tone. “Maybe I’ll drive up for lunch or dinner next week,” I said. “Would that be okay? We can go somewhere cute to eat.” I paused. “Miles can come too.” That last part cost me two more Kleenex, but I said it.

“Yeah, but I—uh—I’ve got exams. I’ll text you when’s a good time, okay?”

“Okay.” I disguised a little more hurt. She’d been putting me off for the past month or two. When she was younger, she’d been filled with adoration for me, wanted to spend every moment with me. But she was an adult now. And now our relationship was fraught with all these other things. “You sure everything’s okay?”

Actually, she sounded fine. I was the one who was not okay.

“Sam, I’m doing great. Don’t worry so much, okay?”

The floor creaked again under my pacing. Thump thump thump sounded from below my feet.

That would be Mrs. Von Gulag, my elderly landlady, who lived below me. To be clear, that noise was her broom handle—and her temper—hitting the ceiling.

I glanced at my watch. Nine on the nose. Her way of signaling me to stop pacing, walking, talking, and also breathing, since it was her bedtime.

“Okay,” I conceded. “I just— I love you. Make good choices,” I snuck in at the last minute.

The line went silent. Wynn took a breath, gathering patience, no doubt. I should’ve left out the Jamie Lee Curtis line.

Oh, but I had so much more I wanted to say. Make other friends. Don’t let anyone distract you from your goals. Work hard and then play hard.

I knew that sometimes I sounded pushy, and I tried to keep my mouth shut. But sometimes I just couldn’t.

You know why? Because I was frightened. I didn’t want her dreams to get derailed. I wanted her to have every chance, every opportunity. I wanted her to have an easier way than I did. And I wanted my hard times to be worth something. Like, I’d put in the suffering for both of us, and now it was over, and she’d never have to experience it.

“Love you too,” she said in a cautious tone. “Talk soon.” Then the call ended.

I sat down on the cute futon, totally distressed. If only Oma were around, she’d manage to laugh this off somehow. Make me tea. Sit down beside me and put her arm around me and surround me with her love. But there was no Oma. There was just me, alone in the cheapest (but safest) apartment I could find.

Oh, I had good friends. But trying to talk to them about parenting matters was… difficult. They were always supportive, but it was like asking a Burger King employee to create for you a James Beard recipe. No experience.

In some ways, I perpetually felt that my sister was one misstep away from disaster. From flunking important classes to getting involved with the wrong boys to spending money that I couldn’t replenish fast enough. I was always torn between pretending that everything was normal so that she could enjoy a college life relatively free from worry to coming down on her hard and demanding that she get it together or else, whatever that meant. And so I said nothing, afraid to drive her away for good.

I would never do anything to drive a stake between us. It was bad enough we’d grown up without a father—at least, by the time she’d come around, he was long gone—and that our mother had been capricious, floating in and out of our lives as randomly as a bubble in the wind, bringing the promise of excitement and fun and raising our hopes, only to have them all dashed.

After a while, that kind of hurt makes you want to give up on people. You don’t trust anyone except yourself. And you end up alone.

I didn’t even have a pet. I wasn’t sure that I could manage one more responsibility.

But at least I could depend on myself, right?

I just had to figure out how to handle my sister. How to be a good big sister. How to help her reach her full potential. Be a mentor. And love her. But how?

I had no clue what I was doing. As I lay back on the pillows, my phone fell from my pocket and clattered on the floor.

The broomstick banged again.

Caleb never got the broomstick.

He got leftovers and pieces of homemade pie and cookies while I got… the broomstick.

But then I was a woman. I was used to working hard in what was very subtly still a man’s world without perks or privileges. I didn’t expect cookies or leftovers or a friendly landlady. I didn’t expect the world to give me anything. I’d come a long way on my own willpower. And I would be just fine.

 

CHAPTER 3

Caleb

I was trying to be as silent as possible as I crept down the hall to my apartment, not only because of my landlord’s excessively early bedtime and insistence for us to basically play dead anytime after it but also because I had a feeling that my nosy across-the-hall neighbor wanted to talk to me.

“The wedding bonding experience” that my friend Ani had come up with—a weekend experience that was meant to replace the bachelor and bachelorette parties—was taking place this weekend. Being trapped at a farm in rural Wisconsin for two days would require Samantha and me to bury the hatchet, at least temporarily. She’d been lying in wait for me the past few nights, and I’d barely escaped, her door opening just as mine shut—but she never knocked, and I didn’t answer. I was waiting for my temper to cool.

I usually didn’t require that—I was a fairly easygoing guy, and I didn’t typically harbor anger. But through a strange twist of fate, Samantha had unknowingly thrown another complication into my life that had messed with my relationship with Lilly, my first and potentially only love, who was Ani’s oldest friend and in the wedding too.

Call me romantic, call me an optimist who doesn’t know when to quit, but I couldn’t stop wondering if Lilly was the One. Things hadn’t ended well between us, but there were circumstances. This wedding weekend was my chance to set things right and start us off on a better foot, in a brand-new direction. I didn’t want to live with what-ifs,what-might-have-beens, and being in this wedding together would be the perfect opportunity to resolve things.

I’d grown up understanding that love was a rare and precious gift and the only thing that truly mattered. I learned this because I’d lost a sibling—my younger sister Mia’s twin—when I was eleven. So nothing Samantha said or did could stop me from taking my last chance with Lilly.

I dreamed of being an orthopedic doctor in our quaint little hometown, where Lilly worked as a florist. We’d have a cute house near my parents’ farm, and our kids would grow up roaming the fields and forests and having a great time being surrounded by family just like I did. The dream was there, within reach—I just had to actualize it, starting this weekend.

Tonight I was tired after a long day and definitely not in the mood to hash anything out. I was okay with pretending that Samantha and I liked each other for the weekend, but I had no desire to talk with her about anything. Silent as a cockroach—or any one of the random critters living in this old place—I turned my key but accidentally dropped my keys. They hit the wood floor with a metallic chink. Behind me, Samantha’s door opened with a loud creeeaaaak.

I spun around to find my annoying neighbor standing there in shorts, a Brewers T-shirt, and pink fuzzy slippers, her long black hair wet from a shower. I’m not even going to mention catching a glimpse of her nicely tanned legs, which made me do a double take that I instantly regretted.

Samantha looked fun, attractive, and not at all like someone impossible to be friends with—but looks are deceiving. She didn’t have a stitch of makeup on, but she had long, thick lashes and pretty, full lips and didn’t need it one bit. Looking at Samantha sure wasn’t painful, but talking to her definitely was.

I reminded myself to be cordial for my sister’s sake. But I was still so damn angry.

“Why, if it isn’t the notorious Dr. Gas,” I said in a false-pleasant tone, using the common nickname for anesthesiologists as I slowly straightened up in the dim hallway. “Awake past curfew, I see.” My gaze flicked up and down, until I realized I was staring at her legs again. I diverted my gaze directly up to her face and forced it to stay there.

“Dr. Bone Cracker,” she shot back, glancing at her watch. “You barely squeaked by, I see.”

“Mrs. Von Gulag thinks I’m charming. She always cuts me some slack.”

“Men always get cut slack. But we women don’t need any slack. We make our own destinies.”

I usually got this type of diatribe about women vs. men, which for some reason she felt I needed to hear. I tried to remember that Mia loved her—they were the very best of friends. I honestly didn’t have a clue why.

Small talk was over. I was ready to call it a day. So I turned back to my door and jiggled the key—or rather, tried to. But it was now stuck. I silently cursed.

“I need to talk to you about something,” she said.

Dammit. Reluctantly I faced her again. The light above our heads was shining on her hair. Black, shiny hair and so much of it, thick and lustrous. I pushed the distraction out of my mind. Sooner or later I was going to have to confront our troubles. “Funny you should say that,” I said. “I’ve got something to get off my chest too.”

“I hope it involves an apology for trying to boot me off that case last week.”

I bristled. “You make being nice so hard, Gas.” I folded my arms in a show of defiance. “If we want to get anywhere with this, you’re gonna have to call me by my real name.” I pinched my nose for patience. If only my key wouldn’t have stuck.

“This is no joke,” she said. “What you did could have cost me my job application. I was lucky no one told Dr. Benson about it.”

I crossed my arms and looked down at her. Not that far down, because the woman was tall—not the usual dynamic I had with women. I disliked Samantha, but she was a conscientious doctor. What I’d done about trying to replace her on my case was a little reckless, not my usual behavior, but nothing bad had come of it. Just this painful conversation.

“You’re right, our dislike of each other isn’t a joke. I admit that what I did wasn’t the greatest way to handle things. And I am sorry about that. But this time you went too far, and it cost me something too.”

* * *

Samantha

“I went too far?” I couldn’t wait to hear this.

Caleb tipped his tall, lean frame against the scarred doorjamb. “For your information, you cost me something with someone I care about.”

“I’m confused. You actually care about someone? With human emotions?” I instantly regretted being snarky. The hospital grapevine said that he dated around a lot. I wasn’t sure if he ever went out with anyone more than a couple of times. But then I didn’t pay much attention to the daily dish.

“Judge much?”

“I can’t help it if I find you reprehensible.” Okay, so subtlety wasn’t my strength. At least with me, people got what they got. I wouldn’t apologize for that even if his frown lines were distractingly cute. Who has cute frown lines?

“I can’t help it if you’ve got a tree trunk up your—”

“Just tell me what happened, okay?” Somebody had to be mature here, so it might as well be me.

“Something you said last week got back to someone I care about.”

“I don’t gossip,” I said firmly. I couldn’t fathom what he was talking about. But I had been royally upset after he’d nearly booted me from that case. Had I vented to a couple of my girlfriends? I had. But I don’t have the kind of friends who break confidences. “Who?” I asked, straining to remember what I said and whom I said it to. “Got back to whom?”

“Lillian Hardy.”

Lillian Hardy? Never heard of her. Wait a minute—yes, I had. Lilly. She was Ani’s oldest friend from childhood, and she was one of her bridesmaids, along with me and Caleb’s sister Mia. “From Oak Bluff?” That was Caleb and Ani’s hometown, a quaint little place in the middle of a lot of farmland, which was two hours from Milwaukee.

The look in his eyes confirmed a yes. “Lilly happens to be very special to me, and she’ll be at the farm this weekend.”

“I’m still not following.”

“She’s my ex. My first love. I hope you understand about love.”

“Your first love?”

Caleb sighed heavily. “I don’t want to talk about this. But yes. Things didn’t end well, but I have a chance to make them right. Except someone at the hospital spread some rumor—that I don’t treat women well.”

First love—didn’t end well—make it right. That sounded to me like strikes one, two, and three. I would’ve never pegged him as a full-blown romantic. Good luck with that, buddy, was my first thought.

“I have no idea how you treat women. I only know how you treated me, which wasn’t nice. Or collegial. Or fair.” And I was still pretty steaming mad about that.

“Lilly is good friends with Stacey from 5 North,” he continued. “And Lilly apparently… heard things from her.” He cleared his throat. “Things ‘the anesthesiologist on the case with the child with a broken leg,’ said about me.”

A dull sense of dread seeped slowly into my veins, like anesthesia before a surgery. That happened in the OR all the time. Patients felt a cool sensation and started counting backward from ten, and by eight they were out. Stacey was a nice work friend. I knew she was chatty, but I guess I’d been mad enough to be careless with my words.

Nora, our friend from NICU, had been beside herself that week. She’d gone out with Caleb a few times, but then the very next week, he dumped her for a respiratory therapist who also worked in the NICU—whom Nora said he’d been dating at the same time.

I’d vented to Stacey about what a terrible person Caleb was. How he indiscriminately dumped women, how he’d screwed me over and nearly got me called in by my department chair. And Stacey had apparently told Lilly.

“And now Lilly doesn’t trust me,” Caleb said. “She broke off with her boyfriend a few months ago. I finally have another chance with her, and now it’s blown—because of you.”

All the blood left my head. I got so weak-kneed I had to back up and lean on my grandma’s little book stand for support.

I’d been so mad. So appalled at what he’d done to me. When I’d heard what he’d done to Nora, I guess I’d just lost it—I’d told Stacey everything.

I felt terrible. Not only for Caleb. How was I going to tell Mia what I’d done? Because this would hurt her too.

Anger had disconnected my stupid mouth from my brain.

But Stacey knew Lilly? How was that even possible?

And Lilly was apparently the love of his fricking life?

Ugh. No matter how terrible Caleb was, Oma didn’t raise me to be a vengeful person. And I wasn’t a gossip. And I especially wasn’t one of those people who ruined someone’s chances at love.

In my family, that was a mortal sin.

My last name, Bashar, means bringer of glad tidings, of love. Oma was a matchmaker. She’d proudly matched over one hundred couples in her lifetime.

I thought that maybe I’d inherited her gift too. Which sounds strange, but I had a special sense about couples who were meant to be together. So far, I’d predicted five marriages among my friends. Five, including Mia, who’d been dating our colleague Brax since last Christmas and wasn’t engaged yet, but honestly, those two were a perfect match.

“I don’t care what you think of me.” Caleb leaned in very close, his eyes glinting with anger, “Just know this: I. Am. Not. A . Cheater.”

He looked so determined, his distinct-looking brows turned down in a formidable frown. I’d never seen him that way before. He spoke forcefully, vehemently. Like someone telling the truth.

“I don’t owe you any explanations about my personal life,” he continued, stabbing a finger at me. “But since you’re my sister’s best friend, I’ll tell you that I never date anyone who wants to get serious. Nora happened to want more, and when I broke it off, she got angry. End of story.”

“You’re saying she lied?”

“To start a rumor, yes. Maybe to hurt me as she felt she’d been hurt.”

I had to admit, it sounded plausible. He certainly looked and sounded adamant.

“Fair enough.” I stood up straight. “Regardless of what I think about you, I owe you an apology. I’ll make it right—with your friend.” There. I wasn’t beyond apologizing. And I would make it right. That was who I was.

“No, you won’t,” he said quickly.

What? “I insist,” I said carefully, standing my ground.

“You’ve done enough. All I want now is for you to stay out of this.”

My head was spinning. I thought of Oma. She would be so ashamed that I’d stood in the way of someone’s chance at love. Even someone like him.

“Really, I feel terrible,” I said. “I may not like you, but I-I would never… I’ll do whatever it takes to keep the peace this weekend.” With a brief nod, he turned to place his key back in the lock. This time, I heard a successful click before the door swung open. I figured the discussion over, so I opened my door and started to walk into my apartment.

Then I heard, “Just be ready by eight on Thursday.”

I spun around. Did I hear that right? He wouldn’t be… could he be? “You’re offering me a ride? After all this?” I was incredulous.

We disliked each other. He was furious with me. I was furious with him, despite feeling bad about Lilly. When he turned to face me, he looked… normal. Not fuming, not pissed. “Is this a trick?”

He scowled. “No.”

This had to be a trick. “Like, are you offering me a ride, only to leave me dead in those woods that line the highway all the way to Waukasaw?”

He rolled his eyes. “Mia told me about your car.”

Oh great. Thanks, Mia. She was a wonderful friend. I, however, sucked, because look what I’d done. I narrowed my eyes. “What exactly did she tell you?” I didn’t want any pity about sacrifices I’d made for my sister.

“That your car’s in the shop.” He paused. “I don’t mind giving you a ride, but I have a few conditions.”

Conditions? The nerve. “I was going to say that was incredibly nice of you, but now I changed my mind.”

He ignored that. Instead, he simply counted them out on his long, elegant fingers. “First of all, I’m spending Thursday at home with my family, so hope that’s not a problem. Number two, I don’t want to discuss this anymore. Three, I’d prefer you not mention any of this to my family. Especially not Mia. And four, most importantly, I need you to stay out of my way. Please,” he added, sounding vehement. “Absolutely no interference.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t want Mia to know that you’re planning to get back with your ex?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know if I’m getting back with her. But I need to resolve some things. And I like to keep my business private.” He got up close. So close I could see the pure, unusual green of his eyes. I’d never seen eyes like that before. They might be beautiful, if he wasn’t someone I wanted to run from screaming, as far away in the opposite direction as I could. His expression was dead serious. “Okay, Dr. Bashar?”

“Yes. Fine. I’ll be ready.” I hesitated, knowing what I had to do. I opened my mouth. Cleared my throat. Forced out the words. “Th-Thanks.” The word stuck like dry, sticky rice to the roof of my mouth. “Thank you.”

As painful as a shot in the butt, but I’d done it.

He gave me a nod and a self-satisfied smile. Then he disappeared into his apartment.

Behind his back, I flipped him the bird. No discussing, no mentioning, no interfering, I mimicked to myself. What a sanctimonious jerk.

But at least he was a sanctimonious jerk with a car. And he’d been nice to save me the humiliation of asking.

So, fine. I’d follow the rules.

Except for that last one.

I lived my life like I lived our Hippocratic oath; above all, I tried my best to do no harm.

Plus Dr. Annoying was Mia’s brother. Hurting him also hurt Mia. Granted, he annoyed the hell out of her too, but she loved him. I had to fix the damage I’d done—fast. I wouldn’t be responsible for someone losing their true love. I committed to do everything I could to help.

I was almost inside my apartment when I heard his voice. “By the way, I saw that,” he called over his shoulder.

 

Print is available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Walmart.com,Bookshop.org, and orderable from your favorite bookstore!

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Take Me to the Wedding is Coming May 9th

Posted by Miranda Liasson on Tuesday, February 11, 2025 at 12:14 pm in Uncategorized | 0 comments

Today I’m excited to share the beautiful cover for my May 9th release.

Feel free to hit reply and tell me what you think!

It’s coming to Kindle Unlimited and is now up for Preorder on Amazon.

**Print and Audio preorders coming soon.**

 

 

 

Get ready for the second heartwarming and humorous book in the Amazing Doctors of Oak Bluff series…

Her matchmaker skills might just be backfiring…onto herself.

Dr. Samantha Bashar has made a terrible mistake—she’s let her rocky professional relationship with Dr. Caleb D’Angelo become personal – and accidentally ruined his chances to get his first true love back. Coming from a proud line of matchmakers, she can’t let that happen, no matter how much she despises him. Or how much she really doesn’t have any faith in true love. But she has to be nice, because Caleb is her best friend’s brother. And they’re both in the same wedding at the end of the summer – oh, yay.

Except the more Sam helps Caleb, the more her sworn enemy turns into something completely unexpected – he’s handsome, funny, and kind. He’s unreasonably romantic and is somehow right there for her when she needs someone (except she’s very independent and hardly ever needs anyone).

 

He’s making her think that a sworn love-skeptic like herself might just have met her match.

 Heartwarming and humorous

Enemies-to-lovers

High tension but close-the-door

Best friends’ brother

Friends and family – always!

Matchmaker

Personal journey of growth

Read more…In Caleb’s words:

If you’re lucky, you’ll know the exact moment that you meet the love of your life. A chance meeting, a glance, a quick lock of the gaze, and wham! your life is changed forever.

I, Caleb D’Angelo, was eighteen when it happened to me. I never thought anything or anyone could ever come between us.

But stuff happens—life happens, and Lilly and I didn’t survive my move to med school. We were so young when we started dating. We had zero experience in the world. I get that. Med school turned into residency, and I moved on. At least, I tried. Outwardly, I’m sure it seemed like I’m having a lot of fun. Yes, I dated around. I’m not bragging when I say I was pretty popular, and finding someone to date was never hard.

But finding someone to love is.

The truth is, I’ve never stopped loving Lillian. And now she’s free. Except someone I work with smack-talked me, and it got back to her.

As for that annoying colleague of mine who thought the worst of me and ruined my chances with the woman I love—well, she’s impossible. As much as I’m easygoing and friendly, she’s driven, outspoken, and never fails to give me a hard time. She’s judgey and she hates my guts. We clash so much, I finally did something about it. I asked for another anesthesiologist for my case. Anyone besides her.

That made her hate me even more.

The problem is that I have to be nice to her. Because she’s my sister’s best friend. And we’re both in the same wedding at the end of this summer. And ironically, so is Lilly. All three of us. Yay.

But I’m not going to let her ruin my chances with the woman I love—again.

I have a plan.

I’m going to tell Lillian that I’ve never given up on us. Show her that we’re meant to be together.

And nothing—and no one—not even the she-devil herself—is going to stand in my way.
I’m going to hold my friends close…and my enemies even closer.

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Thanks as always for your support!