How Much I Feel

by Force, Marie

  “I miss you.”

  “You saw me yesterday.”

  “I missed sleeping with you last night. I slept like shit.”

  “I did, too.”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but will you please give me a couple of days to figure out my life before you write me off forever?”

  “I haven’t written you off forever. I’m just trying to avoid, you know . . .”

  “Heartbreak?”

  “Yeah,” I reply, sighing. “I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime.”

  “The very last thing I want to do is cause you more. I hope you believe that as well.”

  “I do.”

  “The offer from New York was unexpected. It’s thrown a wrench into things, and I’m trying to figure out how to proceed. You’re very much a factor in my decision-making process.”

  “Which I absolutely should not be. Nine days, Jason. You’ve known me for nine days.”

  As if he can’t resist the need to touch me for another second, he takes my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing my palm and the inside of my wrist, where he has to feel the thundering beat of my heart in the throbbing pulse point. “The best nine days of my whole life, Carmen. Hands down.”

  “Really?” My voice sounds high and squeaky.

  “Really. I need you to have some faith in me, and in us. We’re going to figure something out, okay?”

  Hope swells within me, a wave of happiness so big I couldn’t hold it back even if I wanted to, which I don’t. I nod, because what else can I do but put my faith in him?

  He leans across the center console but can go only so far.

  I have to meet him halfway, so the choice is mine to make. As if there’s any choice at all. I lean in.

  His hand curls around my neck as his lips meet mine in a kiss that starts off sweet but quickly becomes about frenzied need and intense desire.

  We resurface many minutes later, hands buried in each other’s hair, lips tingling and other parts on fire for more.

  “Whoa.”

  His single word sums it up rather well.

  “I have to go to work.” I glance at the clock. I have fifteen minutes to get there on time and will need every one of them at this hour.

  “Me too.” He kisses the back of my hand and lets it go, seeming reluctant. “Can I call you later?”

  I think about that before shaking my head. “Call me when you figure out what you’re doing. We’ll go from there.”

  He groans dramatically and drops his head back against the seat. “You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Giordino, but okay. We’ll do this your way.” He rolls his head my way and looks at me with those beautiful eyes. “Don’t fall for someone else before you hear from me, okay?”

  My lips quiver from the effort not to laugh. I sense he wouldn’t appreciate that right now. “I’ll try not to.”

  “You do that.” He reaches for the door handle but looks at me one more time, seeming to take visual inventory, before he gets out of the car and closes the door behind him.

  I watch him walk over to join Juanita’s line, noting the subtle hunch of his shoulders as he goes. While I hate to see him hurting, it helps to know we’re both unsettled. I’m thankful for that as I leave the parking lot and head for work, running frightfully late.

  CHAPTER 22

  CARMEN

  Traffic is more of a monster than usual, and I end up jogging on heels from the parking lot, juggling my cortadito, my work bag and my purse. The effort is worth it when I roll into the executive suite five minutes after nine.

  Fortunately only Mona sees me come in late, and I doubt she’ll tell anyone.

  “Good morning,” she says, apparently chipper in the morning, which is super annoying to a non-morning person.

  “Morning.”

  “Did Dr. Northrup’s sister find him last night?”

  That stops me dead in my tracks. “His sister?”

  “She’s very pretty. I could see the resemblance, actually.”

  “That’s interesting, because Dr. Northrup doesn’t have a sister.”

  Mona stares at me, her eyes wide. “He doesn’t?”

  “He only has a brother, so it seems you gave his location to someone who isn’t actually a family member, Mona. That could’ve been very dangerous if she’d been looking to harm him.”

  I feel like shit when her eyes fill with tears, but it’s true. She can’t just give out a colleague’s personal information without their permission.

  “Is he . . . He’s all right?”

  “He’s fine, but he was extremely unhappy to be confronted by the woman who caused the scandal in New York.”

  “That’s who she was?”

  “That’s who she was.”

  “Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry. I feel terrible.” She looks up at me with eyes gone shiny with tears. “You won’t tell Mr. Augustino, will you?”

  I offer a smile and a wink. “You kept my secret, and I’ll keep yours.”

  “Oh, thank you, Carmen. You’re the best. I’m so glad you’ve joined our team.”

  “Me too.” I go into my office and get settled for the day. I send Jason a quick text to tell him that Mona was the one who gave his “sister” the address of his hotel.

  Well, that’s one mystery solved. Leave it to Ginger to lie about everything.

  I told Mona she shouldn’t be giving out that info without permission. She’s very sorry.

  Tell her no worries.

  I put down my phone and get started with my email where I find a message from Terri, the nurse administrator friend of Jason’s from New York.

  Hi Carmen,

  Here are some more testimonials that came in from former patients and colleagues of Dr. Northrup’s. I heard the board here has offered him his job back. Tell him we’re all elated to hear that and can’t wait to have him back where he belongs. I texted him, but haven’t heard from him. Hope he’s holding up all right in the midst of all this nonsense. Anyway, I’m not sure if you still need the testimonials, but figured I’d send them along. Thanks for all you’ve done to help Dr. Northrup.

  All best,

  Terri

  I feel absolutely dead inside reading that message, hearing how excited his former colleagues are that he’s returning to them. I read through the testimonials from thankful patients, family members of patients who died despite Jason’s heroic efforts and colleagues who sing his praises as a physician and human being.

  I add each one of them to the PowerPoint presentation, which includes a cascading array of testimonials. I realize there’re probably too many of them, but in light of what we’re trying to accomplish, I include them all.

  I add the bullet points Jason emails me about his research, save the file on our internal server and share a link to the latest version with Mr. Augustino.

  An hour later, he comes to my office, knocking on my open door before he steps inside. “Good morning.”

  “Morning.”

  “I saw the latest version of the presentation. It’s outstanding. Kudos, Ms. Giordino.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you’re happy with it.”

  He sits in my visitor chair, seeming morose. “It may all be for nothing. Did you hear that New York invited him to return?”

  “I did hear that.”

  “I spoke with the chair of our board earlier, and she feels it would be inappropriate for us to proceed with him in light of this development.”

  My heart sinks. “So that’s it? It’s over, then?”

  “I believe it is.”

  “Oh, well.” I can’t break down in front of my boss. I won’t cry at work. But I want to. I really, really want to.

  “You did great work on this project, and I’m pleased to offer you the director’s position if you’re still interested. You’d be charged with hiring your own assistant to replace yourself.”

  Crushing lows, soaring highs. I can’t keep up with this roller-coaster ride I’m on. “I . . . Yes, that would be
wonderful. Thank you for the confidence you’ve placed in me.”

  “The board is interested in doing more of the kind of community outreach you coordinated for Dr. Northrup. I’d like you to oversee that as part of your new duties.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Excellent.” He leans across my desk to shake my hand. “Congratulations, Ms. Giordino.”

  “Please, call me Carmen.”

  “I’d be happy to. I’m Roy.”

  I should be thrilled. I’ve been promoted in my second week, I get to hire my own assistant and I’m on a first-name basis with the hospital president. But I’m not thrilled. I’m heartbroken for myself while happy for Jason. The wide array of emotions is almost too much to process.

  A wrong has been righted. That’s what matters here, or so I tell myself.

  I force myself to keep my emotions locked away until I can fully wallow in them later. “I talked to my parents, and they said to let them know when you and Mrs. Augustino would like to come in for dinner. They’d be delighted to have you.”

  “That’s wonderful. My wife will be so excited. She loves the Cuban food at Giordino’s. I’m partial to the Italian myself. Our anniversary is on July twelfth.”

  “I’ll get you a reservation for seven?”

  “That’s perfect. Thanks again.”

  “Anytime.”

  Mr. Augustino—Roy—leaves my office, and I try to refocus on the notes the former director left me about ongoing projects, upcoming events and other things that’ll require my attention as the new director.

  I can’t concentrate on anything, so I decide to take a walk to clear my mind. I wander through the hospital, getting to know the place as I go. In the elevator, I randomly choose the fourth floor, which is labor and delivery. I pass the closed doors to the neonatal intensive care unit where premature babies fight for life. I watch as an elated couple is escorted to the elevator from the other side of the long hallway. The woman is in a wheelchair with a baby in her arms as the man follows behind her, carrying the baby’s car seat.

  I wonder what it would be like to be that woman, on my way home to start the next phase of my life with my child and the man who loves me. If Tony had lived, that would’ve been us, at least twice by now, if not three times. We debated how many children we wanted. Two for sure, with more open for negotiation we never got to have.

  On the sixth floor, where the oncology department is housed, I encounter a young male patient attached to a rolling IV stand, walking with a nurse, who encourages him to take a few more steps as he grimaces in pain. I say a silent prayer for his full recovery.

  On the seventh floor, I land in the pediatric ICU where I ask for Mateo Diaz at the nurses’ station. They direct me to room 718. I knock on the door, and Sofia jumps up to greet me with a hug. She speaks to me in Spanish, thanking me for coming by and singing the praises of Dr. Northrup, who saved her little boy’s life.

  Mateo, dwarfed by the big hospital bed, is awake and alert.

  “How’s he doing?” I ask her in Spanish.

  “So much better. Thank God.”

  “That’s wonderful news. And how are you?”

  She hesitates before answering. “All that matters is that my baby is alive.”

  “What do you need, Sofia? What can we do to help?”

  With tears in her eyes, she leads me to the doorway so we won’t be overheard by her son. “I lost my job because I was absent, my rent is due and I have no idea what to do.”

  I pull out my phone. “Give me your number. I’ll talk to some people and see what can be done to help.”

  “You’ve already done so much. I heard you’re the one who arranged for Dr. Northrup to come to the clinic. Without him . . .” She glances at Mateo. “I don’t know what we would’ve done. He donated his services and paid for the hospital costs out of his own pocket. Did you know that?”

  “I didn’t, but I’m not surprised.” If I hadn’t already been most of the way in love with Jason Northrup, I would be now.

  “It’s enough, Carmen. I’ll figure out the rest.”

  “Give me your number anyway. People will want to help.”

  Reluctantly, she gives me her number, which I type into my contacts. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “God bless you.”

  I hug her, and when I pull back, Jason is standing there. For a second, I’m confused because I thought he was going to the clinic this morning.

  “How’s my friend Mateo doing?” he asks Sofia.

  “He’s so much better.”

  “I heard that. I’m so glad. I’ll be in to see him in just a minute. Carmen, may I have a word, please?”

  “Sure.” I squeeze Sofia’s arm as I follow Jason into the hallway.

  I want to hug him and kiss him and thank him for what he’s done for Mateo. I want to ask him if he’s heard that the Miami-Dade board has deferred to New York’s wishes to have their star pediatric neurosurgeon back. But I don’t do any of those things. Rather, I wait to hear what he has to say.

  “I’ve got to go to New York.”

  My heart drops like a lead sinker in a murky pond. “Okay.”

  “They’ve got a three-year-old girl with the same tumor Mateo had. I’m flying up to operate on her, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I bite my lip and nod, intent on getting through this without becoming emotional. “I hope it goes well.”

  “I do, too. Her situation is a bit more complex than Mateo’s was.”

  His golden eyes gleam with the anticipation of a complicated new case. He’s clearly in his element.

  “Mr. Augustino offered me the PR director’s job this morning.”

  “Seriously? Carmen, that’s amazing. Congratulations.” I can tell he wants to kiss me but restrains himself out of deference to where we are. “One week on the job and you’re already getting promoted.”

  “I think it’s more because the director decided not to come back after her maternity leave.”

  “That’s not why. It’s because Augustino knows what an asset you are to his team. He never would’ve offered it to you if he wasn’t pleased with your work.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “It’s entirely true. I’m really happy for you and super proud.”

  “Thanks.” I bask in the glow of his approval for a few final seconds while wondering if I’ll ever see him again. When he gets back to New York where his old job is waiting for him, what reason will he have to come back here? I can ship him the stuff he left at my place, I guess. “Good luck with the surgery.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to leave Priscilla in the parking lot here and take an Uber to the airport. Just in case you see her out there.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll text you when I can.”

  I nod and start to walk away, determined to hold my head up and soldier on even if my heart is breaking.

  “Hey, Carmen?”

  I turn back to him, raising a brow while drinking in the sight of him and trying to commit him to memory. As if I could ever forget.

  “I will be back.”

  I nod and continue on my way, clinging to my composure as I go. I can do this. I’ve been through worse. I’ll get through this, too. When I return to my office, I text Abuela and Nona, telling them about Sofia’s situation and asking what we can do to help.

  Abuela responds first. We’re on it, querida.

  Thanks for letting us know, Nona adds.

  Next question, Abuela says, is how are YOU?

  I’m ok. Jason is going back to NY to do a surgery, but he said he’ll be back. I guess we’ll see.

  Ay, mija, Abuela says, I know this is so hard, but that boy is falling for you. We all saw that. He’ll be back.

  I hope you’re right.

  When have you ever known me not to be?

  You had to toss her a softball, Nona says in her usual dry way.

  I laugh out loud, delighted as always by them. Love you guys. Thanks fo
r always being there for me—and everyone else, too. I want to be you two when I grow up.

  You’re already the best part of us, Nona says. We love you, too. We’ll get something going for Sofia.

  I reply with the kiss-face emoji. Sofia won’t know what hit her when the two of them mobilize on her behalf.

  I force myself to focus on work, to push everything else to the side and give my all to the job I’m being paid to do. I want to make Mr. Augustino glad he asked me to be the director. I work with HR to start the recruiting process for an assistant. I write a press release about one of our cardiologists winning a prestigious award and another for a nurse supervisor who’s retiring after forty years at the hospital. I interview them both and pour my heart and soul into telling their stories.

  Both releases are picked up by various local media outlets, which is a win for me—and the hospital. I also contact Desiree Rivera to thank her for the wonderful story about Jason and his work at the clinic and suggest a follow-up on how well Mateo is doing. She agrees to pitch the idea to her producers.

  Days pass in which I do little more than go through the motions—get up, get ready for work, stop at Juanita’s, go to the office, chat with Mona, devote all my attention to my work, sit through meetings, rinse and repeat. Several days after Jason left, I have dinner at the restaurant. I’m treated to the full rundown of fundraisers and efforts my grandmothers have put together to help Sofia, who is overwhelmed by their generosity. All the while, I try not to think about Jason, which is easier said than done.

  I got one brief text from him the day he left—letting me know he arrived safely in New York and was heading into surgery. Since then? Nothing.

  I tell myself he’s busy saving lives, doing what he was put on this earth to do. It’s the way things should be, even if I miss him more than I ever thought possible. I feel a little guilty about how badly I want him back in Miami, because I know his work and research would probably be better served if he stayed in New York. Guilt aside, though, I miss him so badly I ache with it.