The Way We Were : A second chance romance (Take Me Home Series Book 2)

by SJ Cavaletti

  The Way We Were

  SJ Cavaletti

  Copyright © 2021 by SJ Cavaletti

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: Vikncharlie

  Cover Photos: Shutterstock

  To my Mom for inspiring me to write a story like this one and for supporting me and my potty mouth with all her heart. Thanks for not washing my mouth out with soap. And of course, for making me think about the millions of women who might want to see themselves in a romance novel. Happy birthday. This one’s for you.

  Contents

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by SJ Cavaletti

  Preface

  This is a romance book, first and foremost, and I’m not trying to make a statement per se. But I wanted to write a preface anyway to let you all know where I’m coming from with this story especially with Liz.

  Some of you who follow me already know that I wrote this book for my Mom. Even if you don’t follow me you may have seen it in the dedication. And although she was the impetus, I have many women in my life, including myself, that have never felt like the “perfect” girl. The girl who fits the mold and standard.

  I was born with a hip deformity that left me on the operating table many, many times and along with those scars, I have lifelong chronic pain. I live with a body that isn’t often represented in the media, and very rarely in romance novels. Why not? Who knows. Time for that to change.

  I still felt sexual and attractive and I owe that to my Grandpa. Stay with me here because I know that sounds like the beginning of a dark romance you don’t want to read. What he gave me was confidence and reassurance.

  One day, not long after one of my operations, the two of us sat watching Jeopardy. I was on the floor in front of the T.V. and he was behind me on the couch. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I started thinking about my fresh scars. How it was soon to be summer and they would be out on the beach, for everyone to see unless I could find a swimsuit to cover them.

  Especially boys. They might see. I was twelve at the time and actually started caring about what they thought.

  A few tears streamed down my face. Silently crying, I continued watching the television, not wanting my Grandpa to know I was upset. But he noticed my body language anyway.

  “Are you okay?” He asked.

  I didn’t turn around to see his face but replied with a touch of honesty. “I was just thinking about my scars.”

  He paused. Thought. He was a considered man. Finally, all he said was, “Honey, by the time any boy sees those scars, he won’t care anymore.”

  His response shocked me out of my sadness. What did he mean? Why did he say that of all things? It didn’t take too many years to find out he was right. And also that boys were the only ones I was worried about seeing them. Seems crazy now.

  I tried to infuse that mentality into Liz. Sure, Liz has her demons but she kicks ass. She is the real life embodiment of my Grandpa’s advice and all of what I tried to be whenever I felt low on myself and this body I was born with. Every year my body will fade and adjust to age. I hope to be like Liz as time wears on. She always seems to find a way to have fun. It doesn’t hurt that she has El. Thankfully, I found my El, too.

  I want you to remember as you read this, especially if you are of alternate abilities, that I’m not making a political statement. I’m making an emotional one. You are beautiful. You are worthy. And the man of your dreams won’t care about your scars. True love is totally blind. If you’ve experienced otherwise, it isn’t love. My advice is to cut him loose.

  1

  Liz

  Present Day

  Miami

  Dear El…

  No. Too formal.

  Hey El!

  Crap. Give me a break. Way too as if we’ve actually seen each other lately.

  Hi El…

  In front of my computer, in the dark of my home office at 12:43 a.m., my eyes stung from the blue light. I’d been staring at the screen for at least an hour after having already pulled a twelve-hour shift earlier. I sat down before midnight to get this email going but put it off, toggling to and from Google and tasks on my Trello board. Answering emails from my agent and teams.

  But I was getting tired. And I couldn’t wait any longer to write. I had already put this email off for months.

  Since I bought a ticket to Uyu.

  Which was actually almost a year ago. And now, in two days, I’d be getting on a plane to head to this crazy festival. I had to tell El I’d be there, and I had to tell him now. I’d be leaving in the morning, and likely he would be, too. It was already awkward that I’d waited so long.

  Elias was smart enough to know I didn’t buy my ticket yesterday.

  A year ago, my agent, Simone, mentioned it might be an interesting story for publicity. If I went to Uyu, made a commentary on it for some of the outlets we work with a lot. She thought the community we reached might find it an interesting story. The festival-cum-social experiment had gained mainstream popularity and people would wonder about inclusivity.

  Maybe she spun this story just because she wanted to go herself. I had my doubts about accessibility, time, so many things. Surviving dust storms sounded like a good reason to stay home.

  But deeper than logistics, there was something else.

  Simone didn’t know. She had no clue that I’d been invited to Uyu many times before her offer arrived in my inbox.

  El.

  The first time I was to attend Uyu, it was supposed to be with El. Her email many months ago, rather than flood me with thoughts of opportunity, drowned me with memories. But when I finally clawed my way to the top for some air, the answer was obvious.

  Yes. Not only did I want to go, I wanted to see him again. Hard as it was, closure was long overdue.

  It had been five years.

  Five years of five times a year, cordial emails, as if he was a potential client that I needed to keep in my network. Five years of hearts and likes on the occasional social media post.

  Trying to show that I meant it when I said we should still be friends.

  I brought a mound of air into my chest, let it out and told my fingers to get typing.

  Hi El- I hope this note finds you well. You won’t believe this but after years of your nagging invitations, I’m finally going to this Uyu place! I have some high expectations of debauchery and deep moments. And maybe I’ll see you? We’re camping at D and January with a camp called Verti
cal Soul. Stop by if you have time! Love,

  No. Not love.

  Sincerely…

  Geez.

  Xoxo?

  Ugh.

  Hope to see you there, Liz.

  2

  Elias

  Seven Years Ago

  Miami General Hospital

  * * *

  I took a drink of my coffee. It was bitter. I’d been trying to go off sugar for a while now. I didn’t miss it on my cereal. I felt like so much more of a grownup now that I didn’t sift a spoonful on every morning. But even after three weeks, I couldn’t get used to coffee without the sweetness to wash it down. Still, I needed the caffeine, so I took another glug.

  The bitter dryness sizzled my tongue as I passed the reception desk of Miami General, where I was in my last year of residency for emergency medicine. It wasn’t as cutthroat as it had been in previous years; I was almost fully fledged now, but a self-professed nerd, I always wanted to be the cream of the crop. Skidding by in life wasn’t my thing. Life was too short to take a foot off the gas pedal.

  So I took another drink, and the liquid singed my esophagus. Just then, I heard a voice.

  “Could you tell me where the Emergency department is?”

  Like a double shot of vanilla syrup, that voice soothed my core, went in my ears like a milky soft latte.

  I turned back to look at the desk and there stood a woman, maybe mid to late twenties by the look of her body, almost as tall as I, leaning onto the desk to speak to the receptionist. Her mid-length hair, bleached with faint, pastel pink tips, covered her face, which I only expected to look like a mermaid’s because her voice had been like a siren’s.

  She could jump on my ship.

  From five feet away, I called, “I’m headed to the ER.”

  Looking up, her hair peeled back, revealing her face, and this woman was no siren. She was an angel. Giant blue eyes, pink lips. She gave me one of those closed mouth smiles of gratitude. Then flipped her attention back to the receptionist for a moment.

  “Guess I have a tour guide. Thanks anyway,” she started toward me, then looked back again at the receptionist and said with a wave, “Have a great day.”

  Heading toward me, she smoothed some hair behind her ear and flashed me a bigger smile this time.

  “Thanks.” She checked out my scrubs. “You work in the ER or just heading that way?”

  “Yeah. Last year of residency.”

  “Oh. Cool.”

  Her straight, pearly teeth shimmered on me. Her eyes twinkled, too. I convinced myself it was my imagination, as nothing ever twinkled under the hideous fluorescent lighting of the hospital corridors. Then, my skin prickled, and I felt hot. My heart ticked faster than normal. And I let her through a door in the hallway before me so I could check out her ass.

  The symptoms were textbook. I found Liz attractive.

  It was both nerve-wracking and fantastic to feel this way. I hadn’t been with anyone for longer than any man should experience. Not that I didn’t have options. Just a combination of not liking anything I saw and not wanting to fail at the hardest task of my life. Being a doctor was something I’d wanted since I was about twelve.

  Work was hard enough without distractions. Since I rarely left the hospital, it felt like I worked all the time and didn’t have time to date if I wanted to get through this residency. And a hospital romance? Talk about a pain in the ass. The last thing I wanted was to have something not work out and then have to see the person every day.

  But to be honest, now I was ready to meet someone. And at some point soon, I was going to have to take finding my future wife as seriously as I had taken my career. I was thirty-two years old and hadn’t had a proper girlfriend since college. Now, in my last year of residency, I could see the finish line. And it would have been amazing for it to all come together.

  My new career. Official. A woman to share it all with. Perfect.

  “I’m Elias. But people call me El.”

  “Elias? That’s a beautiful name.”

  “It’s Greek.”

  “I’m Liz. Not quite as exotic.”

  “I like Liz. Elizabeth?”

  “Yeah.”

  I rushed my brain to come up with a compliment.

  “Regal.”

  She toggled her head back and forth and looked up at her forehead, considering whether she agreed with my assessment. It was adorable, the way she thought so dramatically.

  “Never thought of it as regal. But I’ll take that. Always just felt ordinary, but at least most people know how to say and spell it. Still, when I went to get my first email account, it was a bit annoying. Liz Jones? Let’s just say every variation was taken.”

  We walked along the corridor, and I gestured for us to turn to the left at a crossroads.

  “So what did you bag in the end? For your email I mean?”

  I had only asked to make conversation, but she looked at me with one eye squinted. Like she wondered if I would email her. Like she wondered if I was flirting.

  “I bought a domain. So I use that.”

  “Ah. Ok. Smart idea. Liz@lizjones.com?”

  “Something like that.”

  That one idea. It took Liz from being a cute girl in the lobby to someone I wanted to date in a one sentence. If there was one quality in a long-term partner I wanted, it was someone resourceful. Now to some, that may sound boring. But to me, it was the path to happiness.

  Resourcefulness, in my own life, made me able to solve any problem, any dilemma and make it work. Resourceful people don’t dwell on problems. They’re fixers. And in a complicated world, this quality was priceless.

  “So you don’t look like you’re here for treatment,” I said.

  Maybe a pharmaceutical rep? If so, I’d buy anything she was selling. If only I made those decisions around here.

  “No. I’m actually going to be your colleague. I guess. Or something like that. I’m a biomedical engineer and just got a position in the ER department.”

  Resourceful and intelligent? Come on, El. Keep the conversation flowing.

  “How did you get into that?”

  “I love math and science and always liked building stuff, too. Then one year, I watched the Paralympics with my Dad. I was like, fifteen or something? Anyway, I was blown away by all the developments in the prosthetic limbs and stuff and starting googling biomechanics. An interest developed from that I guess. And…”

  She took a deep breath as if she didn’t want to admit the next thing she said, “And, I’m just a total bleeding heart. I guess I fantasize I can make the world a better place. I probably sound stupid saying that to you. I’ve heard ER docs are the most jaded of all.”

  “What?! People actually say that?” I put on an overly dramatic voice to play around, but a tiny part of me genuinely pricked.

  She nodded, pretending to be apologetic but amused by my reaction.

  I wiped my forehead as if there was sweat on it. “Man. We get all the crap.”

  I opened a door for her to the next hallway.

  “Is it true?” She asked. “Do you think ER doctors are a bit jaded because, you know, they see so much?”

  I wanted to give a flirty, flippant answer but could see in her eyes she’d appreciate sincerity.

  “I don’t think it’s so much the things we see on the patient side. I mean, yeah, sometimes there’s some weird shit. And people who are so clueless it does make you question what’s going on in the gene pool. But the big reason that a lot of ER doctors are jaded is, you know,” I whispered behind my hand, in case any of the bosses were around, “The insurance system.”

  She looked around as if she might find the reason for my whisper. She didn’t find one, but kept her voice down as well. “What? Like as in you can’t treat everyone that comes in?”

  “We do treat everyone that comes in. Just not in fair order of severity. Ability to pay comes into the triage system. And it doesn’t belong there. And a lot of other doctors just don’t deal
with that on the daily like we do. They’re protected from seeing this issue as often as we are.”

  She tipped her head back and opened her mouth with an ah-ha.

  “So that, Liz, is probably the root of this horrific, and might I add almost offensive rumor going around that ER doctors are jaded. I hope you’ll stick up for us next time you hear it. We’re basically social and medical justice warriors.”

  I put my hand over my heart and gave her sweet puppy dog eyes. The ones that always worked on my Mom. “I’m like you, Liz. Just wanna save the world one stitch at a time.”

  She giggled, and it was beautiful, like the song of a wind-up jewelry box.

  We arrived at the door leading to our department, and I opened it for her. She passed along my body and open arm a lot closer than I expected her to.

  “I’ll definitely stick up for you.”

  When she walked past, I could smell her hair. A fun and fruity smell like a beachy vacation. Now I wanted to be next to her even more since it had been so long since I’d had one.

  She walked into the department and her eyes scanned the room for where she needed to go next. And I needed to get to work.

  “Good luck with your first day, Liz. If you want me to show you where the caf is later, I’m happy to give you the full tour?”

  She blinked quickly, almost as if fanning her eyelashes, but I knew she wasn’t. “Yeah, that would be great. One o'clock?”

  “Don’t sue me if I’m late. Or early. Sort of case-by-case thing whether I’m on time but I’ll find you. Around one.”