Dakota listened. She heard each of Walt’s requests once and used her time to make everything better.

Walt kept her away from the inside of the hospital as much as he could. Made love to her when he had the energy and simply held her when he didn’t.

The night before his father’s surgery, the five of them exited the hospital and sat around a table at a local Italian restaurant.

“Dad looked ready,” Brenda said once they were all seated and drinks were served.

“He did.” Larry smiled at his wife and leaned into her.

“I know everyone will want to be at the hospital tomorrow, but visiting after surgery is no more than a glimpse of him before we’re all shooed away,” Walt explained.

JoAnne picked at a breadstick. “I’d worry more if I stayed home.”

Walt couldn’t argue that.

“There’s no harm in staying long enough to know he’s through surgery.” Walt reached for Dakota’s hand that sat on the table. “I really don’t like the amount of time you’ve spent in the hospital as it is.”

Dakota shook her head. “I doubt the pregnant doctors and nurses take nine months off.”

“They’re not you.”

“That’s sweet, Doc, but I’m still going tomorrow.”

There was a pause and then Brenda changed the subject.

“So, Dakota . . . how did the two of you meet anyway?” Brenda asked.

“He was horning in on my room at a conference.”

The memory of her squaring her shoulders and meeting his stare on that day made him grin. “You were teaching a class on . . . what was it again?” he asked.

“Crafting a satisfying sex scene.”

Larry spit out the water he was attempting to drink and Walt’s mom scoffed.

“Keep your voice down.”

Walt looked around, didn’t notice anyone within earshot. “Let it go, Mom.”

“He made some crack about bodice rippers and I did everything in my power to one-up him.”

“You did,” he agreed, thankful their conversation had moved from hospitals and surgery. “But that’s not when I first noticed you.”

“Oh?” Brenda leaned on her elbows to listen.

“She walked into a bar wearing a Lakers cap, sat at the bar, and started eavesdropping on conversations.”

Walt ignored his mother when she rolled her eyes again.

“I call it research.”

“Did you hear anything juicy?”

Dakota grinned. “I was listening to the pickup lines at the bar. It’s amazing what comes out of people’s mouths.”

“I’ll bet.”

“So you listen to personal conversations and then exploit them?” his mom asked.

“No. I study people. Try and figure out what makes them tick. It helps when I’m creating fictitious characters in my books.”

“I can’t imagine why that’s needed when writing your books.”

Brenda spoke out first. “Wow, Mom. Try not to hate so much. Besides, if you haven’t read them you shouldn’t cast stones.”

Walt saw through Dakota’s smile. Even though she didn’t show it, he knew his mother’s words stung.

“You and my mother would get along very well,” Dakota said. “She says I write smut.”

“There’s nothing smutty about your work,” Brenda said. “What are you working on now?”

Walt kept glaring at his mother, hoping she’d get a hint.

While Brenda kept quizzing Dakota on her next book, the waiter delivered their dinner.

Hours later Walt tucked Dakota into his arms as they snuggled in bed. “I’m sorry about my mom.”

“Don’t be. She’s got to be under an enormous stress.”

“We all are, but that doesn’t give her the right to paint a target on you.”

Dakota turned her dark eyes on him. He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Your mom and I will work things out. You have enough to think about and our relationship doesn’t have to be one of them.”

She rested her cheek into his palm and smiled at him. A tsunami of emotion rolled over him. “I love you,” he whispered.

She paused and sighed. “Walt, I—”

“I’m not telling you that to hear the words returned. I just can’t keep them to myself anymore.”

Her eyes softened, if that were possible, and he knew he wasn’t alone.

Instead of saying a thing, Dakota reached for him, covered his lips with hers in a kiss that picked up his soul and intertwined it with hers.

“Make love to me,” she said against his lips.

Walt smiled, pulled her under him, and loved her with every ounce of energy he had.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dakota sat, stood, paced, walked the halls of the hospital, did just about everything other than relax for the hours it took for Walt’s dad to come through surgery.

As the hours ticked by, each of them grew more silent, a little more humbled on how fragile life was.

When the hour that they should have heard something came and went, uncertainty wiggled its nagging little bone into Dakota’s head. Each time the door leading into the surgery suites opened, they snapped their eyes to the door, hoping to see Dr. Altman.

“Walt, please ask someone how it’s going?”

Walt placed a hand over his mother’s. “Stanley knows we’re all waiting. He’ll be out as soon as he’s done.”