She smiled. “Same to you.”

Love couldn’t help but feel some type of way about Dr. Law after hearing about how he’d lied to Drake about his mother for all those years. She wanted to give him a piece of her mind. One day, she’d get her chance.

“Drake, I have some colleagues I need you to meet.”

Love smiled when Drake shot her a look as he followed his father away. She scanned the ballroom and spotted her own dad on the other side of the room. She’d expected him to be there. He was a member of the club, although not as prominent as Dr. Law.

Love walked over to the bar and ordered a club soda. She wasn’t in the mood for alcohol. She had an early shift in the morning.

“Hello, Lovely,” her father said. “I was wondering if you were going to try and avoid me tonight.”

She turned to him. “Hello, Dad.”

He hugged her. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Where’s your husband?”

Love didn’t miss the sarcasm. Her father was still salty with her and Drake for getting married. “He’s with his father. Dad, I really need this to stop. I hate fighting with you.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“I am. I shouldn’t have said or done the things I did. You’re my daughter, and I love you. I just want you to be happy. Can you forgive me?”

Love eyed him. “Can you promise to leave Drake alone?”

There was a long silence, and Love wondered what he was going to say next. Was this an act?

“I promise.”

She hugged her father, shutting her eyes when his arms closed around her. A hug from Dr. Leon Washington was a rare thing, and she savored it. “Thank you, Dad.”

* * *

Drake stood on the far side of the ballroom, a letter from Johns Hopkins in hand. They’d accepted him into their cardiothoracic surgery residency program. It was a fellowship that he’d applied for last year, before Love.

Two months earlier he wouldn’t have hesitated. But now…

“What are you going to do?” his father asked.

Drake’s dad had given a lecture at Johns Hopkins and run into the chief of surgery while there. The two were old friends, and the other doctor had given him the letter to hand deliver to Drake.

Scratching his forehead, Drake shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve worked for this.”

Drake was skeptical about his father’s sudden show of support. He could see right through him. This was about Love, plain and simple. “I’m married, Dad. I can’t just up and leave. I can continue here.”

“Son, this is a huge opportunity. You can’t pass something like this up.”

“Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do. All of a sudden you’re concerned? I wonder why I find that hard to believe.”

He caught a glimpse of Love walking toward them, and tucked the letter in his inside jacket pocket.

“Hey, babe,” she said.

Drake hugged her, kissing her brow. “Hey.”

He couldn’t stop looking at Love. Her beauty glowed from within. When he’d first seen her dressed and made up earlier, he couldn’t breathe. It overwhelmed him at times, the way he loved her. The thought of leaving her made him sick.

“I spoke with my dad,” she said.

He glanced at his own father. “I’ll talk to you soon.” He led Love away without another word to him. “How did that go?” he asked her.

“It went well. He apologized.”

“That’s good.”

She eyed him curiously. “Are you okay?”

Drake wasn’t sure if he should tell Love about the acceptance letter, especially since they’d decided to try and make their relationship work. But he’d never lied to her before, not about anything serious. Sure, he’d told her on a number of occasions he hadn’t eaten her food, but this was big. Taking that fellowship would put them in different states for three years. Even if they did decide to try and make it work long-distance, the odds of them succeeding were low.

“I’m fine, just irritated with my dad,” he told her. It wasn’t an outright lie, just not the entire truth. “Let’s take our seats. Dinner will start soon.”

Drake and Love joined Ian and Myles at a table. His father was seated at the adjacent table with his current wife.

“What do you have a taste for?” Drake asked Love, frowning at the menu card in front of him. He hated these highbrow events. The food always consisted of rubbery chicken, overcooked beef or dry fish.

She hummed. “Um… I’m thinking the chicken dish. What about you?”




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