Been There Done That

by Smartypants Romance

  “Software engineering,” Leigh said. “Huh.”

  I scanned the rest of the article. Nick had gone to the University of Michigan for software engineering in undergrad. Three years later he’d developed a powerful predictive tool which, with the aid of self-reported patient data and claims information, accurately forecasted catastrophic health events. A leading insurance company had acquired the algorithm for a reportedly undisclosed amount, but Forbes’ estimate was downright astonishing. Nick had gone on to establish his own company, working with a team of developers, engineers, actuaries, and clinicians to develop other groundbreaking innovations in health care technology. “The goal,” Forbes quoted him as saying, “is to empower patients to take charge of their own health with technology.”

  Oh, Nick. I realized I had the tablet in a death grip and moderated my hold. I thought of my denied grant application and all the other work I’d attempted at the university. I shouldn’t be surprised that the past motivated us to act in such similar ways. Same purpose, divergent roads.

  My head was inches away from Leigh’s as I leaned closer to enlarge the font and advance the text. Could she hear my heart slamming against my chest?

  The article attempted to chronicle his past, which Nick rejected. “I’m from a small town in Tennessee, right outside of Knoxville. Nothing more interesting to report beyond that.” The reporter detailed his net worth and investment portfolio in painful detail before the article ended on a promising, almost prophetic note: Nick Rossi will revolutionize the way health care is delivered, the author concluded. The sentiment was repeated in a pull-out quote right above a photo of Nick standing in a power pose, legs widespread, arms crossed, face stoic.

  Despite myself, I felt a stirring of concern that countered any sense of self preservation. Who did you become, Nick? And what did it cost you?

  “Damn, Z.” Leigh shook her head, eyes closed. “By all rights, this guy should be a stooped-over accountant with the eyesight of a mole. Justice demands it. But no. I mean, I absolutely hate him for your sake. But all this big dick energy . . . even I’m getting taken in.”

  Walker scowled at her. “Do you know what the word ‘brother’ means?”

  “You’re not my brother.” Her eyes burned into mine. “Zora, what are you going to do? Are you going to see him tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.” I decided there really was no alternative. “I’ll find out what he wants so I can be done with this. With him.”

  “Good.” She gave a decisive nod. “Because you need a do-over. And hopefully you can get some closure in the process.”

  Closure? No. “There’s no such thing as closure, okay?” I huffed. “That’s just the excuse people use when they don’t want to accept something’s over. I don’t need the redundancy of words to prove what someone’s actions have already shown me. We were eighteen when he left. It’s old history. Case already closed.”

  “So . . . you’re not at all wondering why he just disappeared into thin air?”

  “No,” I lied. “I moved on, and so did he. Obviously. I’m not that girl anymore. I’m happy. I’ve reached my goals. I’m self-actualized.”

  “All right, Oprah. But tomorrow, you redeem yourself. You make him swallow his tongue. This is Rocky IV. Be Ivan Drago and break his fine ass.”

  “This is truly disturbing.” We both whirled to find Walker standing behind us, arms crossed. He grimaced at us both. “You do realize that’s the movie where Apollo Creed dies in the ring, right? Are all women psychos like you two? Are they all sitting around plotting on innocent men?”

  Leigh huffed. “You’ve never been innocent a day in your life. And neither is this guy.”

  Walker narrowed his eyes at her. “If what you saw was really what happened, he was wrong. But you know, they were a little young to be so serious—”

  “Oh, shut up, Walker.” The last thing I needed was for my brother to revive an ancient list of our parents’ Favorite Talking Points about my past. “And mind your own business.”

  Leigh whooped and slapped me a high five. “Atta girl. You had a bad day. Your slip was showing at the worst possible time. We’ll get you ready, you’ll get the upper hand, and this time you dismiss the guy from your life. He’s yesterday’s news. Tomorrow’s an opportunity for a new headline.”

  Chapter Five

  Nick

  I trailed Zora down the hospital’s hallway, forcing my eyes away from her alluring backside.

  Growing up, Zora had never been able to walk in heels. But apparently, at some point, she’d gotten the hang of it.

  Dr. Leffersbee met me in the lobby as previously arranged by Nellie. She coolly executed a brisk handshake and murmured my name as if we were complete strangers.

  Gone was the free, unrestrained, Lycra-wearing version of Zora. Her wild curls had been tamed into a fancy bun. Without her usual dark mane, all my attention was drawn to the bittersweet chocolate of her eyes and the lips she’d slicked with something dark red and tempting.

  Before yesterday, it had been twelve long years. I don’t know what I’d expected, but I hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected my heart to crash around in my chest, or my lungs to stall.

  I wanted to touch her.

  My fingers itched to tangle in her hair. Was the curve of her lip as soft as I remembered? I managed to stop staring at her gorgeous, full mouth when I realized she’d asked me a question.

  “Pardon?”

  Zora blinked at me once, her dispassionate stare becoming a glare. “I said, will Nellie be joining us?”

  “No.”

  Nellie scared me. And she had an unnatural number of teeth.

  Zora had then turned and walked away, rebuffing any additional discussion. Armored in silence, she stalked down the hallway, occasionally throwing a tersely-worded explanation over her shoulder. I followed behind her, off-balance. As a seasoned CEO at the helm of a billion-dollar empire, I’d made a name for our company by dominating my competitors. And yet, I couldn’t work up the nerve to stop Zora and break our momentum. Slow her down. Stop what was rapidly becoming an unfunny farce.

  Why hadn’t I planned better for this? I wasn’t prepared for all these old feelings, for everything to resurface as soon as I laid eyes on her. I hadn’t anticipated the undertow that robbed my mind of all rational thought and stole my power of speech.

  I trailed her down the corridors, closing my nose against the all-too-familiar hospital smell, the antiseptic bite, and did my best to suppress my memories of this place.

  It was far more pleasant to divert my awareness to Zora’s legs in heels.

  The engineer in me appreciated how all the disparate components collaboratively powered the engine of her sexy gait. Shapely legs, strong calves, the artificial stretch of her feet, the deep, natural arch of her back. It all produced the hip-dipping, captivating sway of her ass.

  Hypnotizing.

  I attempted to redirect my gaze. It didn’t work. I needed a distraction from the seductive metronome of her hips.

  “Which department is your lab set up in, exactly?”

  She glanced back at me, her expression flat. “A few places.”

  Yep. This was going well.

  “Listen, it’s not my intent to impose. I told Nellie I’d be fine just chatting over a cup of coffee, but she insisted I come see your setup.”

  Dear God, was I tattling on Nellie?

  She didn’t look back, but I caught the drift of her words as we neared the end of the floor. “It’s fine. No problem. I want you to have whatever you need to get your project off the ground.”

  And leave, was the clear subtext.

  I nodded even though she couldn’t see me, taking care to avoid the tiny, scrubs-clad woman who detoured around me with a scowl. I wasn’t a fan of hospitals. Especially this one. But I could admit that as hospitals went, this one wasn’t awful. Abundant light filtered into the hallway through tall windows. High-gloss hardwood floors and framed art of smiling patients contributed to the som
ewhat cheerful environment.

  It was cheery enough that I wasn’t immediately reminded of the night I’d rushed to this hospital after my mother’s car accident. That visit hadn’t been too bad. Scary as hell, but she’d recovered. Although . . . had she? The pain from her bad back had never really subsided. That pain had led us on down a terrible path and another visit to the ER that changed our lives forever.

  I shook my head. I needed to concentrate. Couldn’t afford to let the past distract me.

  Signs marked the end of the hospital and the entrance to the professional building. I moderated my long stride to match her short, deliberate one. After a tense elevator ride in which we both stared ahead at the reflective interior of the doors in complete silence, we finally reached a mostly-full waiting room comprised of women and one lone man. I had a brief impression of brightly colored posters demonstrating various stages of pregnancy and advertising baby paraphernalia before we were on the other side of the door, stopping at the nurses’ station.

  “Hey, Sarah,” Zora greeted a slender, red-headed woman in scrubs with a smile.

  How easily she thawed for someone else.

  “Zora.” The woman’s eyes widened as she took me in, then moved back to Zora as she approached us. “Hey, girl! Did I miss something? Did you have a patient recording on the schedule?”

  “No. I just came by to show off our setup.”

  Sarah enveloped Zora in a hug. I watched with interest as the hug lasted for more than several seconds, with Sarah whispering something in Zora’s ear. Zora murmured something I didn’t catch in response.

  “Well, I’m happy to see you, no matter the reason.” Sarah held Zora out at arm’s length, grasping her by the shoulders. “No bribes today? Nothing from the Donner Bakery?”

  “I’ll be ready next time. What do you guys want?”

  “Rings of Fire,” an invisible voice supplied. I looked around and identified a white-coated man seated at the nurses’ desk as the source.

  “I’m on it,” Zora said.

  I had to look away from her smile.

  That’s not for you.

  “Do you . . . eat those?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Sounds like something you’d treat medicinally. At the other end.”

  “They’re muffins.” Sarah laughed. “Damn good muffins. We keep saying we’re going to cut back, but Zora keeps bringing them, so . . .”

  “Right. Blame it on me.”

  Sarah’s bold gaze dragged from my feet and back up to my face. “And who’s your friend here, Zora?” She smiled, slow and sly.

  Zora deflated a bit. “This is Mr. Rossi,” she said. All warmth evaporated from her voice. “His company—”

  “It’s Nick,” I interjected, feeling irritated that she’d called me Mr. Rossi. Reaching out to shake Sarah’s hand, I added, “We go way back, Zora and I. We’re friends. Were friends.”

  Zora cleared her throat, not looking at me. “Mr. Rossi’s company is working with the School of Medicine and the hospital to introduce a telemedicine app. They are interested in the communication training we do with our docs.”

  “Well, hiya, Nick.” Sarah didn’t seem to know whether to smile or frown, her gaze moving between Zora and me. “Let us know if you need any help.”

  “Thanks, Sarah.” Zora gave the nurse a bright smile and they traded another glance I couldn’t quite decipher before she peered down the hallway ahead of us. “Six open?”

  “Yep, clinic’s light today.”

  Zora made a motion over her shoulder, gesturing for me to follow as she advanced down the hallway.

  “Thanks, Sarah.” I nodded, and Sarah nodded right back, crossing her arms with a smirk.

  Down the corridor, turning into the second doorway, I found Zora standing in front of a paper-sheeted examination table. I hesitated as I crossed the threshold to the examination room, suddenly on alert. Were those . . . stirrups?

  “So . . . this is . . .”

  “What it looks like.” She pasted a thin smile on her face, then set her bag on the computer monitor-topped desk.

  “Nellie says she told you about the curriculum and the video recordings we do to help coach our docs. I know Legal is addressing the implications of sharing the curriculum with you. Once that’s all worked out, I’ll provide you with a copy.”

  I nodded, took a cautious step toward her. “Sounds good. So . . . this is your lab? This is . . . interesting.”

  Her expression didn’t change, but I didn’t miss the small step backward she took. One of her shoulders lifted as she gave a seemingly dismissive wave. “I don’t know about interesting. It’s not much of a tour. Just these two cameras.”

  I took a breath. She was finally speaking to me, face-to-face. The two of us were alone. Here was an opening, an entry point. Everything, all that had happened, all that was unspoken between us, weighted my next words.

  “Zora.”

  She didn’t look at me.

  “Zora, please. We need to talk.”

  Her mouth twisted. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “When I . . . when I left—”

  “Let me rephrase that. What would you like to discuss that is appropriate for work acquaintances?”

  Acquaintances. Considering all we once were, “acquaintance” had an ugly ring to it. But I’d been the one to create the distance that separated us now. Wasn’t it my fault we were practically strangers? I’d walked away, and in those early years I’d stayed away, reasoning that I hadn’t wanted to hurt her by being who I was, or who I wasn’t, or because of what I didn’t have to offer.

  And then she’d sent back the ring and told me to stay gone . . .

  Admittedly, my sudden reappearance in her office yesterday had been sloppy, rushed—a rookie move. You’d think a twelve-year separation would have given me some impulse control where she was concerned. It hadn’t. I hadn’t been able to stop myself.

  “Acquaintances? Not colleagues?” I asked quietly.

  She stepped farther away, now at the head of the examining table, while I stood at the foot. She didn’t look at me; she kept her head craned at the opposite wall. “There’s the camera.”

  Ignoring the tightness in my chest, I followed her pointing finger to an upper corner of the ceiling. The continuity of the crown molding was broken by a flat, silver panel with a darkened screen. I walked over to inspect it.

  I swallowed around the mass in my throat. “I wouldn’t have noticed it.”

  “That’s the point. There’s the other one.” I turned in time to see her nod toward a twin panel on the opposite wall.

  I was almost certain they were exactly the same, but I walked over anyway, wanting to reduce the distance between us.

  “I’m sorry about the way things happened yesterday. It wasn’t my intent to surprise you.”

  “There’s a capture station down the hall. I can get you a copy of the protocol for the study. It details all the nuts and bolts. We educate both the doctor and patient on the purpose of the research and how we’re using their data. Then we get consent. Our team can view the interaction between the patient and doctor as it happens. We record it all and turn the camera’s eye away during examinations. I can show you the capture station when we leave.”

  I turned to see Zora’s eyes on my face, her gaze full of something I couldn’t identify. Then her eyes met mine and her expression blanked.

  “I’d like that. To see it.”

  Painful silence stretched between us. Zora didn’t seem to feel any obligation to fill it. She crossed her arms, kept her eyes averted from mine.

  “So . . .” Damn. That’s the best I can do?

  “Any questions?” The brittle, upbeat quality of her voice didn’t match her pinched expression. Her grip along her crossed forearms tightened.

  I couldn’t do this.

  “Zora. I’m sorry.”

  Her expression didn’t change. “For what, exactly?”

  I hesitated. If ever there was a layered question,
it was this one. “For everything. None of this is ideal, it’s not the way I wanted things to happen, but . . . It’s so good to see you. I—I missed you—”

  She held up a trembling hand. “Nick. I’m glad you’re alive. That you’ve been okay all this time. But I’m here in a professional capacity. It’s what you asked for. So, I’d be grateful if you would just . . . let me do my job. Let me give you the information you requested. Whether you really want it or not, I don’t know—and I don’t care. I said I would do it.” She met my stare full on and concluded, “And I keep my word.”

  That barb hit its mark. And I remembered.

  “We’ll get out of this town forever, Z. You and me. We won’t even look back. And then it’ll just be us. Forever. I promise.”

  I’d been young when I murmured those words into her hair. Eighteen and oblivious to everything that lay ahead. I hadn’t kept my promise in the end. And the shame of that never left me.

  I nodded, clearing my throat of the continued tightness and working to school my expression. “I do want the information. We’re piloting this app for the first time, and now we’re realizing all the blind spots in our competency team.”

  She shifted her weight between both feet, coming to a lean against the side of the nearby sink. Her feet hurt, I realized. The heels had gotten to her after all.

  “The actual programming of the app, working out security and identifying ways to merge the data sets is easy. It’s what we do.” I settled into one of the visitor chairs and slid the little rolling stool in her direction, hoping she’d take the opportunity to rest her feet.

  She ignored it, instead shifting to the side and now leaning against the examining table. I looked away, trying not to watch as the stretchy fabric of her otherwise staid black skirt crept higher above her knees. If that little shirt under her blazer rose up just enough . . .