Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
For right now, though ...
Well, he might be able to help with that. Who in the hell was going to complain if Camilla danced in her heels or the silk stockings instead?
Nobody.
That’s who.
“Here, babe,” Tom said, reaching for Cam’s legs under the table.
“What are you—”
The tablecloth hid how he pulled her legs into his lap to pull off her shoes. The satin heels hit the floor with a click-click that was hidden by Cross taking all of the attention when he spoke into the microphone as the room quieted.
“Fuck the damn shoes,” Tom told Cam.
She grinned. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Everyone in this room knows how loved my sister is,” Tom heard Cross say.
“Only a couple of hours left, and we’re out of here.”
Cam pursed her lips, the glint in her eye making him think of a million and one dirty, terrible things he’d like to do to her right then and there. One thing in particular that had to do with smudging that ruby red lipstick of hers across her mouth while he made her eyes water.
She always looked so pretty like that.
Loved it, too.
“Dad made me promise,” he said quickly.
Cam gave him a look. “I can’t convince you to break the rules?”
She absolutely could.
And probably would.
“Don’t test me,” he murmured.
Cam winked.
Tom about lost his control right then and there.
“At least promise me one more dance,” he said while Cross continued his speech to the rest of the guests, “because I’ve been dying here, Cam.”
“I can do that.”
Good.
“And I’m glad to know,” Cross said, turning to face his sister and Tom who had moved closer together until their shoulders touched and their grins were angled toward one another, “that my sister has found someone else to love her the way we do, too.” He lifted his glass higher to toast them, smiling with a nod as he added, “Congrats—to your forever and ever, Cam, because it’s exactly what you deserve.”
It certainly was.
Tom would make sure she had it.
The Job
“Shhhh.”
Camilla’s soothing hush had the small preemie in the domed bassinet settle enough that the heart rate monitor stopped beeping. She took a moment to check over the leads attached to the baby’s chest with tiny heart-shaped stickers, and then jotted down a few notes into the file tucked into the shelf at the back of the bassinet.
No changes, really.
Nothing since the start of her twenty-four-hour shift.
In the case of premature babies, but especially one like this baby who was still so small that his cry hadn’t even developed yet and he cried without sound, no changes weren’t exactly a bad thing. When they did see changes, they hoped they would be steps forward in the infant’s progress. Thing was, every preemie in this ward came in with a fifty-fifty chance.
And this boy wasn’t out of the woods yet.
Sticking her hand back in through the holes of the bassinet that sealed around her arms to keep any air that wasn’t carefully controlled away from the baby, she rested her warm, cleaned hands against his body. He was so small, they could still see his veins running throughout his body under his paper-thin skin. Her hands covered him almost entirely. And yet, his heart rate continued to lower the longer she held him in the only way she could.
They wanted touch so badly.
It was one of the best things for these babies.
The beep of her watch had Cam sighing because as much as she would like to stand right there and keep soothing the baby when he probably wouldn’t get it again until the next shift of nurses came in, did all their rounds, and had five seconds to sit down and give the infant personal attention beyond his medical needs.
The hospital had a whole team of volunteers that came in to hold or rock the babies, and feed the ones that were capable of taking a bottle. However, that was in the daytime and evenings. And the nighttime hours were left to the nurses on the ward who, as it was, were already overworked in a high-stress job that had them watching fifty percent of their patients dying every goddamn week.
She loved her job.
Adored these babies.
But she absolutely understood why the stay-rate for a nurse on the preemie ward wasn’t very high over the course of six months to a year. It was hard on the brain. Hard on the heart, and harder on the soul.
Cam was still here, though.
And she didn’t plan on leaving.
However, she did need to take a little break, but not because the job was getting to her in any kind of way. But rather, because her father had traveled all the way to Ireland for surgery to correct an old brain injury that had been affecting him for years, and she wanted to be there to help with his recovery. Since his travel and surgery had been a little last minute, so was her time off that she put in for. But she’d been working here for years, never took time off without lots of notice, and didn’t complain if her vacation time wasn’t given because it didn’t work for the hospital. She simply worked something else out.