Page 78 of Nine Months to Love

“I’m sorry.”

She pulls back and looks me over. “Are you? Are you really?”

“Am I okay, or am I sorry?”

“Both!”

I laugh. “I’m fine. I promise. And I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Her gaze flicks to Stefan, who’s standing a few feet away with his arms crossed. “Andyou,” she seethes. “You better have an extremely good explanation for whisking her away like that.”

Stefan raises an eyebrow. “I don’t answer to you.”

“Well, you should. Someone needs to keep you in check.”

I bite back a smile. Only Camille would talk to Stefan Safonov like that and get away with it.

“Cami,” I say gently, “it’s okay. Really.”

She looks between us, opens her mouth as if to continue reading us both the riot act, then seems to decide to let it go. For now. “Fine. But we have a lot to discuss.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Stefan says. He leans down to kiss my forehead, a gesture so casual and intimate it makes my breath catch. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Then he’s gone, and Camille is staring at me with her mouth open. “What was that?” she gapes.

“What was what?”

“That. The forehead kiss. The ‘I’ll be in my office if you need me.’ You two are...”

“We’re working things out.”

“Working things out. Right.” She grins. “I believe that’s what they call a ‘euphemism.’”

“Camille.”

“Fine, fine. But we’re talking about this later, too. God, we have so much to catch up on.” She sits back down and pats the cushion next to her. “First things first: business.”

I sit, tucking my legs under me. I’m still a little chilly from this morning’s impromptu dip. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is we have a clinic to open. At Mass Gen. Do you realize how huge this is?”

“I do.”

“Do you, though? Because you’ve been off the grid for days while I’ve been fielding calls from contractors, equipment suppliers, the hospital board. Everyone wants to know when we’re starting, what our timeline is, what services we’ll be offering. It’s madness. I’ve aged years in the last few days.”

Guilt twists in my stomach. “I’m sorry. I should have been there.”

“Yes, you should have. But you’re here now, so let’s focus.” She pulls out her tablet and starts scrolling. “I’ve been working on a preliminary budget. The hospital is covering the build-out of the space, but we need to furnish it, stock it, and hire staff. I’m thinking we start with a small team. You, me, two nurses, maybe a part-time embryologist.”

“Dr. Whitehead,” I say immediately. “If she’s available. She’s the best.”

“Dr. Whitehead is great, but she’s expensive.”

“We can afford her now.”

Camille looks up from her tablet. “Can we? I mean, Stefan’s donation was generous, but it won’t last forever. We need to be smart about this. Every dollar counts.”

“We will be. But I’m not cutting corners on staff. Not when we’re trying to build something that lasts.”