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Sebastian

“ K ennedy’s knocking Cal out, huh?” Ward, my best surgical assistant said, washing his hands.

Every nerve in my body went taut and fire rushed through my veins watching Kennedy from the small oval window of the scrub room. “She’s the top anesthesiologist here at Mercy.”

My Kennedy.

My wife.

My wife who left me six months ago because I’d let fame go to my head, according to the note she’d left me.

You’ve let fame go to your head, Seb...

So much visceral emotion shouldn’t have dominated my body right before surgery. I just couldn’t take my eyes off her narrow shoulders, round ass, violet eyes, and thick ash blonde hair pulled back and tucked under a blue cap.

Mine...

I’d not seen her in six months, not been in the same room with her. Having her so close kicked my pride to the curb and wildly inappropriate ideas passed through me.

That note she’d left me in the foyer of our townhouse had also said she felt invisible for close to two years. It sure felt that way for me too, but fame had crept up on me like a whirlwind. Shocked the shit out of me, really.

The hours I’d spent away from Kennedy had burned me too because I’d have given anything to have my wife by my side, go through all the excitement with her.

But she had her own career, her own demanding schedule.

I hadn’t faulted her for it, yet I’d gotten plenty of blame for letting success go to my head.

I had become the celebrity orthopedic surgeon all major athletes demanded. Some price of success. In exchange for all that adoration from strangers, I’d lost the only woman I ever loved.

I glanced at my patient lying on the operating table from the scrub room. Cal Sweeny, the rookie NFL quarterback got crushed in a blitz during today’s 1 p.m. Jet game at MetLife Stadium.

I was so famous Cal had screamed my name before Jesus on the thirty-yard line as refs pulled the entire Miami defensive line off his throwing arm.

“Shit, here she comes,” Ward mumbled.

I set my shoulders back and jut my hips outward, knowing my scrub pants were tight enough to outline my cock. I hadn’t put a mask on yet, but Kennedy had hers on so all I saw were those eyes. And damn they were right on me.

“Dr. Hart.” That voice of hers kicked up riotous emotions like a beast clawed beneath the surface of my skin.

Her voice had rung out in my head occasionally during these months apart, remembering how she’d yelled out my name in bed.

Because fuck, we’d had great sex for years.

After a decade together, the fever hadn’t died down.

I’d never lost the drive to make her mindless in bed, I just ran out of hours most days.

“Dr. Hart ,” I shot back, reminding her that her name was my name. The name I’d given her.

As if nothing was wrong between us, she rattled off Cal’s vitals and fed me the typical pre-surgery anesthetist report including which medicines she planned to use, and how much based on the patient’s weight and medical history.

Steely-eyed, I replied, “Is that it?”

She blinked and looked at Ward, who just grinned. Damn, Kennedy radiated with professional brilliance at the moment. Then again, Cal’s injury was stupidly easy to fix. Ward could do it.

“Yes, Seb, that’s it.”

Hearing her say my name sent a wave of lust through me.

That’s it, Seb, right there, I’m gonna come.

I’d fought how much I missed her all these months. It took those quiet lonely nights with a glass of expensive scotch to let Kennedy’s leaving consume me. That’s when I’d texted her. Repeatedly. Please come home. I miss you. I love you, Kenna. Damn, you, you’re mine. Texts that had gone unanswered.

Every damn one.

Clearing my throat, I said, “Let’s get started, then.”

If she wanted to pretend the mountain of tension wasn’t there, I could too. I had to for the sake of my patient.

Kennedy returned to the OR and sat by Cal’s head, ready for me to begin. Even though I’d met Cal in a pre-op room, I strutted in and greeted my patient one last time before I gave him back his throwing arm.

“Doc, tell me again this ain’t the end for me. I’m just getting started here.”

With my magical operating skills, the QB, who allowed Jets fans to dream of going to the Super Bowl, would be back next season better than new. “It’s not the end for you, Cal. I promise,” I answered the quarterback, but looked over at Kennedy, who kept her head down reading her equipment.

“Are we ready, Dr. Hart?” I called out to her.

Assistants’ eyes wandered all over the room. Kennedy and I had never operated together at Mercy. The surgical team looked confused by the same name being thrown around.

Athletes from all over the world came to New York City to lay on my table.

Only, they’d rushed Cal to Mercy Hospital after the tackle and not the Center for Surgical Excellence where I saved careers.

The Center was for scheduled surgeries. NFL, MLB, NHL, NBA, and Olympic stars sat on waiting lists for me to fix their gifted hands, arms, ankles, shoulders, and knees.

Kennedy nodded. “Ready, doctor. Cal, I’m...” Her instructions to him drowned in a blur, instructions I had heard hundreds of times at hundreds of surgeries with hundreds of anesthesiologists. This felt like a dream come true, not just being with her again, but working with her again.

Slowly, Cal’s eyes closed until he was out cold.

“He’s all yours, doctor,” Kennedy said to me with a voice as cold as ice and her eyes on her equipment.

I glanced down at my scalpels and cracked my neck. “Let’s make Jets fans sleep a little easier tonight, folks.”

KENNEDY TURNED OFF her equipment and changed out the Propofol bag for a saline cocktail to bring Cal out of his state of unconsciousness slowly and beautifully. She had a gift. A damn unrecognized one because I grabbed the spotlight.

Nurses took over getting Cal off the operating table and back to his bed where he’d soon be wheeled into recovery.

The clock on the wall flashed six p.m. Could I just...ask my wife to go for a drink? I needed her and I’d had enough of waiting for her to come around.

“Kennedy, we’re getting some dinner at Patsy’s, you coming?” one of the nurses said, tucking Cal into a heated blanket.

It was December. A couple of weeks before Christmas.

When we’d first moved to New York City, I’d brought her up to the Empire State Building observation deck so she could see the whole city.

My city. She’d marveled at all the lights while holding me close.

I couldn’t remember the lights right now because I’d been focused on her. When had that changed?

Kennedy typed something in her phone and with an even face, she glanced at me, her eyes still distant. “Can’t, Amy. I have a date. Thanks anyway.”

An icy wave crawled up my spine. With the surgery behind me and not another one scheduled for two weeks at the new center I had opened in San Francisco, I let a tidal wave of emotions flood my system.

When Kennedy left the OR, I jogged to catch up to her as she headed to the doctor’s locker room. “A date, huh?”

“It’s none of your business, Sebastian.”

“You’re still my wife, that sort of makes you having a boyfriend my business.”

She stopped short. “It’s a date.”

“A first date? Second date?” My stomach twisted. “A...third date?”

She smirked, killing me. I’d taken her virginity the first week of medical school and when she’d left our townhouse six months ago, I was the only man who’d had her.

She continued walking to the locker room, her ass bobbing in the scrubs. She’d always been packed in the trunk, firm and beautiful. “Second date,” she said over her shoulder.

Which meant the first date had gone well and she liked the fucker. Who was he? Another doctor? That burned me even more. Lost in anger, I blurted, “Are you bringing him to my sister’s wedding?”

Kennedy lowered her head and swung back around.

Mentioning Savannah’s wedding next weekend changed Kennedy before my eyes. As if time had folded in on itself, her shoulders softened. Biting her lip, she rushed up to me, fast and furious. I set my foot back wondering if I were about to be punched.

“Of course, I’m not bringing him to Savannah’s wedding.”

“Then you’ll do what I asked you?” Pleaded, really. Over several texts when I’d figured out Kennedy wasn’t coming home.

“I’m your sister’s maid of honor. Your parents don’t know we’re separated.” She breathed. “I love them, Sebastian. I won’t hurt them. Especially Savannah. It’s up to you to tell your father what’s going on. Not me.”

Kennedy and I had to fool everyone for my sister’s wedding next weekend, make my family believe everything between us was hunky-dory. She’d been living somewhere downtown for six months.

Clearly, things weren’t hunky-dory.

With my sister teaching in Cincinnati and my parents retired in Atlanta, it’d been easy to keep my separation from Kennedy a secret.

I had only told my cousins Luke and Tristan because they were my best friends.

They agreed to keep my secret. Then my sister had gotten engaged a few months ago and wanted a Christmas wedding in Manhattan.

A small family affair, and that made Kennedy the prime candidate to be Savannah’s maid of honor.

“What’s going on, Kenna? What the hell are we doing?” I pulled her into my chest, my mouth hovering above hers. I didn’t think a kiss would make the last miserable six months go away, but it was a damn good start.

Those gorgeous eyes of hers went heavy-lidden on me. There. I cracked her open.

“Come home with me, Kenna,” I whispered. “Our home.”

Shaking her head and wriggling away from me, she said, “I can’t. Didn’t Luke show you the papers from my lawyer? We’re getting a divorce.”