Author's note: Thanks for all your kind words and encouragement. It means a lot :)
Thanks also to my team for everything they do. I'm so lucky to have them helping me.

~BPOV~

God, I was tired. My body ached all over. I felt like I had run a marathon, not the few steps I had taken in my session with the physio. I had prepared myself to be exhausted, but I hadn't anticipated how so little activity could wear me out so quickly and thoroughly. When I tried to lift my hand to reach for my drink, I found I didn't even have the energy to do that.

"Knock, knock." One of my favorite voices called from the doorway.

Looking up, my smile is instant when I see Masen hovering there.

I've been moved out of recovery into a different ward for a few days now, which means I don't see him nearly as much as I'd like. But he still finds time to come and visit with me.

Masen is ridiculously busy, as you'd expect for the head of the ER, but he drops by when he can. Sometimes it's when he's on a break. Other times it's at the start or end of his shift. Either way, I'll take what I can get.

We've formed a close friendship over the last couple of weeks. Perhaps our similar experiences of growing up in a family, or more significantly, our reluctance to get mixed up in said family activities, made us closer ... our friendship stronger. Either way, I didn't question the connection, the bond we share, and I looked forward to each of his visits.

"What are you doing here, stranger?" I still like to tease him. I live for his crooked smile and our playful banter.

"Somebody told me you were up and about." He smiles; it still gets me every time. Sue me - I've been laid up in a hospital bed for the last two weeks. Is it any wonder I've formed an attachment to the handsome doctor, who's kind … smart … caring?

Okay, I need to stop!

"Has Dora been talking your ear off again? And I'd hardly call it progress; I managed a handful of steps." I grumble.

"Hey, it's a start," Masen comes over, and when he sees me struggling with my glass, he hands it to me. He's so thoughtful ... So everything.

"She's relieved. She worries about you nearly as much as I do," he jokes, but there is some seriousness behind his teasing.

"You worry too much - the both of you do."

"You look brighter too," he says, quickly changing the subject, pulling his hand away sheepishly.

"I feel it. That's not to say my body isn't killing me right now, but it feels good to get out of this bed, to do something ... you know?" I tell him honestly.

"Absolutely; it's the first step in your recovery Bella; the first of many. How are you feeling besides that? Any pain or discomfort?" he probes.

"Masen, you're not my doctor anymore - I'm not your problem."

"No, but I still like to check in with my former patients. And you're not a problem either, so stop your silliness." He sends me a stern look.

"Do you do this often? Check up on all your ex-patients," I say to his raised brow.

"Only the ones with pie and other delicious treats on offer." He winks.

I playfully punched his shoulder.

"Here's me thinking I was your favorite patient, but all along, you're only using me to steal my food. How disappointing." I fake annoyance before pointing toward the Tupperware container I kept nearby, hoping he came to visit me today.

Who am I kidding? He visits every day he's on shift without fail.

"There's something special in there, take it. If I keep eating everything Dora sends, I'll be the size of a house, and I don't have the heart to hurt her feelings by telling her to stop."

Masen happily takes today's offering; his eyes light up, and he happily tucks into the freshly made Zeppole, getting the white powdered sugar over his lips with the first bite. These are a staple at the restaurant. We always have them on St. Joseph's Day, but we also serve them on other days too.

"These are incredible." He groans enthusiastically.

"Is this where your love of food came from? Dora? Did she teach you how to cook?"

"Yeah, she has been such a massive part of my life. Of course, you know we're Italian … going back generations, so food is in our blood. Traditionally, everything is passed down from one generation to another, but I would have missed out on a lot because I lost both Nonna and Mom when I was still young. Thankfully, Dora taught me everything I know about my heritage … my family ... my traditions. She encouraged me to be brave and creative with my recipes ... to play with the ingredients. She gave me the drive to go to culinary school in France."

"And what was that like?"

Masen always has questions; he always wants to know more. "Aren't you sick of hearing about me?"

"Never," he says, shaking his head. "Tell me about Paris. I bet you learned a lot. It's an exciting city. Tell me about it."

"I loved every second of my time in France; it was an escape - a breath of fresh air. I could just be myself with no associations with the Family. A year full of food, travel, and art. Of course, it was challenging work too. I received my Culinary Arts Diploma at École Ducasse – the Paris Campus." I sigh, thinking back to my time at the school. It felt like a lifetime ago. "I am also a pastry chef, but cooking is my passion."

"Rose came with me; she got a scholarship at art school. And, of course, there were bodyguards. Despite our difficult relationship, Charlie insisted I wasn't alone, and I was so glad she was with me. It was everything and more. A glimpse at what life could be; a taste of freedom."

"I bet you didn't want to come back."

"No, I didn't. But as wonderful as Paris was, my life is here ... my family, Dora, and Rose are both here. My time away gave me the passion … the vision .. the drive to open the restaurant."

"I still can't believe you did all that yourself. I'm seriously impressed, Bella." He praises.

"We were lucky it worked out. So many restaurants don't make it past the first year. For whatever reason, il Cigno di famiglia, did." I shrug.

Masen scoffs.

"Luck has nothing to do with it. You're talented and driven, and all the success you have made for yourself. When we were there I was so impressed, so I know how good it is. And Lark went nuts over her dessert. Well, we all had the Chocolate Tarpit. Out of this world."

"Oh, the desserts are everyone's favorites," I grin. That was one of my favorites, too – when Dora made it. Of course, she made it with pudding; I changed it to mousse. But I'm happy you liked it."

"Well, thanks for the Zeppole. As always, they were incredible," Masen praises when he's finished his dessert.

He rises and comes over to the bed. He's extra smiley now that he's full of Dora's treats. His lips brush my forehead before he practically sprints to the door. Pausing in the doorway, he tells me, "And Bella ... you are my favorite patient."

... A few days later …

"That's good! You're up to three minutes now, Bella!"

I smile through the pain … through the burn. I'm determined to keep going. To make it up to five minutes this session.

I'm working hard and doing everything I can to get out of this hospital as soon as possible, even if that has one major disadvantage. However, I refuse to think about that for now, at least ...

"I think that's enough for today Bella. But, let's not overdo it," Emily, my physio, warns as we get towards the end of our time.

Every session brings a tiny amount of progress. Slowly but surely, I feel stronger, more confident that I can get better and eventually get back to normal life. The cuts have healed, my bruises are fading, and now I'm almost back on my feet. Not for long, but I'm managing to put weight on my leg and take a few steps, which is a start.

"I can do more," I say with confidence, but Emily isn't convinced.

"Get in the chair, Bella. I love your determination but let's not push yourself too far."

"Fine," I strop and begrudgingly sink into the wheelchair, ready to go back to my room or cell, as I've now come to think of it.

We exit the rehabilitation center and are on our way back to my room when we bump into Masen.

"Are you still stalking me?" I tease when he's close enough to hear.

"You wish. It's not all about you, Bella." He winks. "For your information, I have another ex-patient on this floor, so I thought I'd drop by and see how you're doing on my way back to the ER."

"I can take Bella from here if you like Emily," he offers.

Emily checks that it's okay with me before handing me over to Masen, much to his delight. He pushes me down the corridor like a kid in an amusement arcade, complete with racing noises. I try to act indifferent, but I have to bite my cheek to hide my smile.

When we are back in the room, Masen helps me out of my chair and into bed.

When his fingers brush mine, both of us pull apart quickly ... sheepishly. Blushing … both just a little quieter after whatever the hell that was. I felt something, and I'm pretty sure Masen did too. I don't exactly have the best track record with guys, but I know attraction when I see it … when I feel it, and I already feel more for Masen in the brief time I've known him than any of the other men I've dated.

Masen and I share something. What that is, it's too early to tell, but I enjoy spending time with him, and I love teasing him.

"So, how is he?" I ask, trying to catch him out.

"He?"

Masen looks adorably confused.

"Your other patient ... the one you came to see," I say, failing to keep the smug grin off my face.

I'm delighted to see his cheeks flush. He's so fucking cute, and I love seeing him flustered- it's a rarity. His eyes hold mine, we both smile because we both know there is no other patient. I like to tease him- he loves to tease me. It's exciting and slightly scary because I've never felt anything like it before … with anyone.

"Busted," I revel in victory. Masen, however, looks pensive.

"I've missed you ..." he says quietly.

"I've missed you too," I admit. It's the truth. Last weekend, Masen was off, meaning I hadn't seen him since Friday. Those three days felt like a lifetime.

"Bella … I," His voice drops low … He turns serious.

My breathing picks up … my cheeks flush as Masen leans in closer. His face is millimeters from mine, but before I can find out what he intended to say, a high-pitched voice enters the room.

"Daddy ... Daddy ... Daddy!"

Glancing toward the door, I see Masen's pride and joy. I've heard so much about her over the last couple of weeks, so when she comes rushing into the room, I'm in awe. Lark is every bit as adorable as he described. She is really freaking cute; her hair is in two pigtails, and she's carrying a bag that's way too big for her tiny frame. That doesn't stop her- she runs towards us at lightning speed. Masen is up like a shot, reaching for her and spinning her around in his arms - much to her delight. She squeals, then giggles. Her laughter is contagious. My smile is instant, splitting my face just watching the two of them together.

When Masen places her on the floor, he leans down, the two of them whisper conspiratorially, but I can hear every word they say.

"Birdie, Daddy has a special friend he'd like you to meet." He grins.

Picking her up, he props her on his hip, and they approach my bed.

"Lark, this is my friend, Bella. Bella, this is my daughter, Lark." Masen says, looking anxiously between the two of us.

"It's so nice to meet you, Lark. Your daddy has told me all about you and what a special little girl you are."

She giggles and hides her face in Masen's shirt. He mouths a silent sorry to me, but I'm not offended. From what he's already told me, his daughter is a little chatterbox and a bundle of energy around people she knows. It's strangers she takes a little getting used to.

Slowly her face peeks out of Masen's shirt.

"Nanna says I have the bestest Daddy," she beams.

"Speaking of Nanna," Masen interrupts. "How are you here, Birdie? Where is Nanna?"

"She's right here ..." comes a slightly breathless voice from the doorway. I look up and see an immaculately dressed woman enter the room. Despite her flustered appearance, she's beautiful. No prizes for guessing she's Masen's mom. The hair is a giveaway- it's the same unique shade.

"Honesty, Masen, this one is so much faster than you and Emmett combined. I turned my back for two seconds, and she was down the corridor in a flash. Jess pointed her towards where you were."

"It's okay Mom, she's a little rascal, aren't you, Birdie?"

"Yes, Daddy," Lark grins - all toothy and sweet.

It's then that Masen's mother's eyes cut to me, and I feel a brief moment of panic set in when she visibly stiffens, and I'm sure she lets out a quiet gasp as she takes me in. I have no idea why she looks so surprised, but she's not hostile - or at least I don't get that vibe from her.

She looks like she's seen a ghost.

"You're —" She starts, then stops abruptly.

"This is Bewwa," Lark answers. Thankfully, she's no longer hiding.

"And this is my mom," I hear Masen speak, but all the while, he's talking in the fact that his mother's eyes haven't left mine - not an inch. While she is smiling, she looks almost teary, but I can't for the life of me understand why I would elicit such a reaction in her.

"What's wrong?" I ask when Masen glances down at his pager, his expression wary.

"I just got a call from downstairs. We have multiple casualties coming in. They've asked if I can do another couple hours of overtime." Masen looks torn; his gaze drifts between me, Lark, and his mother. He looks as confused as I am. The whole thing is plain weird, but the only way to get answers is to talk to her.

"You go; we're good here," I say, taking charge of the situation.

"You sure?" Masen looks unconvinced as he glances back at his mother, who not so subtly wipes the tears out of her eyes.

"Why not? I'm not going anywhere. Besides, I want to talk about you and find out all your secrets," I tease.

"You already know all my secrets, Bella." Masen grins.

"I doubt that. But go, save lives," I prompt.

His mom agrees, encouraging her son. "Go, do what you need to do. We'll be okay here, won't we, Birdie."

"Yes, Nanna, we can tawk to Bewwa," Lark nods enthusiastically.

After some deliberation, Masen nods, crunching down to speak to his daughter. The two of them are so cute together- it's lovely to see.

"Birdie, I have a very important job for you, okay. Miss Bella needs her rest, so I want you to make sure she takes it easy. I'm trusting you, kid. You are in charge, okay?" He grins wickedly.

"Yes, Daddy," she answers seriously.

"Good girl." Masen praises. Kissing her forehead, he picks her up and places her on the edge of the bed, where Lark grabs her bag and starts pulling out a stack of papers, crayons, and all sorts of items a three-year-old would carry. No wonder the bag is so big. What the hell is in there?

"I'll be back when I can," Masen calls from the doorway.

"There's no rush. We're good here," I tell him … and we are.

With Masen gone, I turn to his mother with interest. "Sorry, I don't think I caught your name." I point out.

"It's Esme, dear," she says, watching me carefully. It's an unusual name, one I'm sure I would remember if I had met her before.

Esme looks sad but covers her disappointment with a smile. "It was a long time ago. It would be crazy to think you could recall the couple of occasions we met—you were barely out of diapers, maybe Lark's age," she tries to sound upbeat.

"Like me, Nana?" Lark asks, gaining a nod from her nanna.

"We've met before?" I ask, desperately trying to place her.

"Yes, dear. When you were much younger," she begins. "You're the spitting image of your mother," she tells me once she's composed herself.

"She was my best friend."

Author's note: We finally meet Esme who has some more revelations …

Going forward, I won't be updating weekly. I haven't been able to keep up for the last month or so. And that shows no sign of changing anytime soon 😞However, I'm not giving up on this story. I'm just taking a little longer to update. Most likely every two weeks.