The Doctor's Do-Over. Karen Templeton

had left Quinn with her cousin—since no way was she going to have this little reunion in her daughter’s presence—but it’d taken her a good ten minutes to work up to the question. This being the awkward moment from hell and all. Now she sensed Ryder—who hadn’t exactly been chatty, either—glance over as they strolled, bundled up against the frigid night air, along the marina at the edge of town. A trek they’d made innumerable times as kids, at all times of the day and night, in every imaginable kind of weather. Mostly just for something to do away from the adults, sometimes on their bikes or inline skates when there weren’t too many people around….

      And cocooning herself in the used-to-bes wasn’t going to do a blessed thing to stop the vague nausea brought on by having to face the right-nows.

      “Phil Paxton told my dad,” Ryder said, that comfortingly familiar voice conjuring up so much of what she’d made herself forget, and there it was, the past colliding with her present, boom. Even his obvious irritation provoked memories, of when he’d get ticked off over some dumb prank or other she’d pulled as a kid. Man, this was doing even stranger things to her head than walking back into her grandmother’s house. “Said Amelia’d left you three her place, that you were coming down to get everything in order.”

      “Big mouth,” she muttered.

      “Was it supposed to be a secret?”

      At the word “secret,” Mel flinched, then dug a tissue out of the down vest she’d thrown over her hoodie to wipe her drippy nose. “I don’t suppose.”

      “Anything else you’d like to share?”

      No need to ask what he meant, since the disbelief icing his words said it all. Even so, she had no idea what she was and wasn’t allowed to say, to admit to, even now. “Depends. What’ve you heard?”

      “That you and Jeremy had a kid together.”

      She stuffed the tissue back in her pocket. “Jeremy may be Quinn’s biological father, but to say we had her together is a stretch.”

      Silence crackled between them, far more biting than the damp air, until Ryder finally broke it with, “God, Mel—why?”

      “Because I was a mess and he was there.” And you weren’t, she thought, startled at the residual anger after all this time. “Sad, but true.” More silence, punctuated by the soft clattering of the docked boats, Ryder’s steady footsteps against the wood. “When did you find out?”

      “Late this afternoon.”

      “I don’t mean that I was coming down—”

      “Not talking about that.”

      “You really had no idea?”

      “Nope.”

      “Wow,” she said on a strangled half laugh, her breath misting around her face. “I can’t believe they actually took it that far. I assumed you knew.”

      Ryder raised his arms to flip the collar of his jacket up around his neck. “Because I never contacted you again?”

      “Yeah.”

      He shook his head, then thrust his hands into his pockets. “That wasn’t the reason.”

      When no further explanation seemed to be forthcoming, Mel wandered out underneath the gazebo-like structure at the end of the marina to fold her arms across the top railing, deeply inhaling the tangy, bone-chilling breeze. Moonlight flicked at the black, rippling water below. Pretty. When Ryder mimicked her pose, the wind ruffling his short, dark hair, she said, “I can’t even imagine how ticked you must be right now.”

      “No. You can’t.” He glanced at her. “My folks said Jeremy knows.”

      “He always has.”

      “And he’s never—?”

      “Nope. Far as he’s concerned Quinn never happened.” He leaned harder on the railing to press his head into his palms, then dropped them again. “Does she ask? About her father?”

      “Until recently? Not as much as you might think. Although …” Mel forced air into her lungs, annoyed that she still felt like she was breathing through broken glass. “I was seriously involved with someone for two years. Thought … this was it. He was it. Quinn became very attached. Enough that she didn’t ask about her daddy because she’d assumed she’d found one.”

      “This isn’t going to end well, is it?”

      And there it was, despite everything, that same kindness and understanding that had seen her through her entire childhood, that made her eyes sting even now. “His ex popped back into his life. And right into the bastard’s bed, apparently. Turns out he’d never really gotten over her. Our virtually living in each other’s pockets notwithstanding. Although …” She twisted to lean one elbow on the railing, looking at Ryder. “He did offer to make me a partner. In his restaurant,” she added at Ryder’s quick frown.

      “After …?”

      “Oh, as in, right on the heels of. Consolation prize, yay,” she said, then hmmphed. “Guess he figured that was the least he could do. Considering it was my mad cooking skills that’d made the place as successful as it was.”

      A hint of a smile played across Ryder’s mouth. “And you walked.”

      “As fast as these cute little feet could carry me.”

      “Good for you.”

      “In theory, sure. In practical terms, not so much. Oh, I’ve managed, working for caterers off and on, but nothing’s come along that even begins to compare. I really, really loved that job. Made me stretch as a chef, try new things. And the partnership would’ve been an incredible opportunity. If I’d had a heart made of stone.”

      “How long ago was this?”

      “A few months,” she said, even though the date was indelibly, and regrettably, forever etched in her brain. “Dammit, Ry—I never saw it coming. Neither did Quinn. And it was especially hard on her since my mother died last year. She and Quinn were extremely close, as you can imagine.”

      “Damn, honey. I’m sorry.”

      Mel nodded, then said, “Quinn’s just now getting over it, I think. Hope. The breakup, I mean. She doesn’t mention it, in any case.”

      “And you?” he said gently.

      “I alternate between numb and mad-as-hell. Although I’m at least through the eating anything that isn’t nailed down stage.” She sighed. “But now that we’re once again in daddyless mode, yeah, Quinn’s started asking about her father. Not a subject I’m wild about discussing when I’m not wishing bad things on half the human population. Best I could come up with was telling her he vanished before she was born, he didn’t know she was coming, that I have no idea where he is. How to find him.”

      “You lied?”

      She snorted a humorless laugh. “How do you tell a child her father really didn’t want her? That his parents paid me off to never contact him, or show my face in St. Mary’s, ever again? And how in God’s name …” She swallowed. “How do I explain that her mother was every bit as complicit in this little scheme as the people who’ve been paying her hush money since before she was born?”

      “Mel, for God’s sake—you were sixteen.”

      “Seventeen, by the time she arrived. But yeah. Even so, I can’t pretend I didn’t know what I was doing. That I’d more or less sold my soul—or at least, my integrity—in order to provide for my child. And it’s eating me up, living this lie.”

      Expelling a harsh sigh, Ryder grasped the railing, not looking at her. “Not any more than it’s eating me up, that when you get right down to it, this is all my fault.”

      “And how on earth do you figure that?”