Chapter 1: Awkward Reunion

I never thought the first time I’d see Mark Lewis again would be like this: shivering under harsh fluorescent lights, clutching my diaper bag like a life vest. The hospital room felt colder than it should, the sterile tile and echoing footsteps making me feel eighteen again—awkward, hopeful, and painfully exposed.

Mark sat behind his desk, looking every bit the composed professional in his white lab coat. His voice was calm as he called, "Rachel Carter, blocked milk duct. Come in."

His brooding eyes locked on mine, sending a jolt through me I hadn’t felt in years.

He gave me a half-smile, more wry than warm. "You always did know how to make an entrance, Rachel. First my heart, now my clinic."

My stomach dropped. I wanted to laugh, cry, and run—all at the same time. Of course he’d still know how to get under my skin. My cheeks burned, but I managed a shaky smile as I stepped in, clutching my diaper bag tighter.

01

I lifted my shirt and unhooked my bra strap, trying to keep my hands from shaking. The smell of antiseptic was sharp in the air, every beep and click from the hall making my nerves jumpy. There he was: my first love, gloved up and all business, as if the last five years had never happened.

I swallowed hard. "Doctor, could you be a bit gentler?"

He glanced at me, his eyes cool but not unkind. "I don't remember ever being rough with you before. Was I?"

I let out an awkward laugh, not daring to answer. The crinkle of the exam table paper was suddenly deafening. I wished I could disappear into the antiseptic smell.

I'm not exaggerating—a blocked milk duct really hurts.

My insides twisted with embarrassment. Only in America would I end up topless in front of an ex-boyfriend…like something out of a bad reality show, not a hospital drama.

Ever since I gave birth to my son, Mason, blocked ducts had become my unwelcome routine. When breastfeeding, the baby gets nothing, and the pain is excruciating for me. He suffers, and I suffer too.

That’s why I rushed here.

"How long has it been since you gave birth?" Mark asked, voice even.

"Fifteen days."

"How long have you been blocked?"

"It was only slightly blocked the past two days, but it got serious last night," I admitted.

He examined me carefully, and even through the gloves, I could feel the heat of his hands. My face flushed, heart pounding.

I covered my face—running into an ex while getting a breast exam is truly mortifying.

He sat back at the computer, typed for a while, then handed me a form. "You need to be admitted. Take this form to the billing desk, then go to the ninth floor to finish admission."

I hesitated, staring at the paperwork. "Um, do I really have to be hospitalized?"

After a moment, I looked up at him. He heard me, looked up from the computer, and shot me a cold glance. "Seriously, Rachel? You think I’d admit you if you didn’t need it?"

Whoa. So intense.

Fine, I’ll be admitted. Why is he so intense?

I could feel my shoulders tense as I clutched the paperwork. I could practically hear my mom’s voice in my head: "Only you would end up in a sitcom scenario like this, Rachel." But in real life, there was nothing funny about feeling like a burden—or about seeing the one man I never wanted to see again.