Love With Me

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Love With Me Page 18

by Kristen Proby


  “Jesus, why are you working that many hours?”

  “Because both positions are full-time,” I reply with a sigh. “Now I understand why the hospital has gone through three chiefs of surgery over the past five years.”

  “Those are sweat-shop hours,” Levi says, making me chuckle. “You can’t have any life with that schedule.”

  “I know, and I’ll do whatever it takes to fix it, but Joy was also unreasonable. I’ve never been so angry with her in my life.” I rub the back of my neck. “She basically said that I’ll be a shit father and husband and she’s reconsidering marrying me.”

  “Isn’t love fun?” Levi asks, laughing when I glare at him.

  “Speaking of love, you’ve been pretty tight-lipped about the pop star.”

  “And it’s staying that way.”

  “It’s just us here,” I remind him. “Why do you look angry every time she’s mentioned?”

  He stares at me, his grey eyes hot, and I don’t think he’s going to answer me at all.

  “She ghosted me,” he finally admits and then swears under his breath. “I feel fucking stupid.”

  “So you slept together, and then you never heard from her again?”

  “Exactly.”

  I frown, the idea of anyone hurting my brother not sitting well with me.

  “Was the sex that bad?”

  “Fuck you.”

  I smirk. “Okay, so it was awesome. Good for you.”

  He just flips me off, and I hold my hands up in surrender. “Hey, I don’t know what to say. Maybe it was just a one-night stand.”

  “Maybe.” He sighs and scratches his head in irritation. “Do I sound like a fucking moron when I say that I felt like we had a connection?”

  “You’re not a moron. Maybe it scared her.”

  “Scared me,” he says. “But damn if I could get enough of her. We didn’t leave that hotel room for twenty-four hours.”

  “Damn. I’m impressed.”

  “So was she,” he says with a grin, but the smile doesn’t last long. “And then I tried to call her that night, and she didn’t answer. She hasn’t returned any of my calls or texts, although I stopped trying after the first week. I’m no stalker.”

  “That’s good to hear. It sounds to me like it scared her, man. The sex was too good.”

  “That doesn’t help me sleep at night, smartass.”

  “Maybe reach out to her in a month or so. Give her some space.” I shrug helplessly. “What the hell do I know? My fiancée pretty much told me to eat shit and die last night.”

  “Maybe it was the hormones talking,” he suggests.

  “Her feelings are hurt, and that kills me,” I reply. “I want to go to her house right now and make her hear me out.”

  “So, do it,” he says.

  “This is Joy we’re talking about. I can’t make her do anything. I need to get some stuff in order and then go to her with a plan.”

  “This could be interesting,” Levi says. “What kind of a plan?”

  “I’m too type A to not have a plan. And the truth is, I miss her, too. I don’t want to go to her and have her reject me twice, I couldn’t survive it again.”

  “What’s the plan?” he asks again.

  “I haven’t figured that out yet. You tell me the plan.”

  “Dude, you’re talking to a guy who had the best sex of his life with arguably the most famous woman in the world and can’t get her to call him back. I don’t think I’m the right person to ask about a plan.”

  I laugh and then shrug. “Well, then we’re screwed.”

  “Wyatt seems to have it figured out. He got the girl. Let’s call him.”

  “Is nine in the morning too early to start day-drinking? We could call him over and get drunk.”

  “Don’t turn into that guy,” Levi says. “No one wants to marry the day drinker. That’s only funny in college.”

  “I didn’t do it then, either,” I remind us. “Joy would have told me I was a loser and never spoken to me again.”

  “She would have been right,” he says. “She always was a smart girl.”

  “And tolerant. I admit that over the past couple of years I’ve only called her when I needed something, and I hate that I slipped back into that old habit over the past month, especially after promising her that I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Cut yourself a little slack,” he says. “You were trying to get your bearings after being suspended and starting a new position. That would take anyone some time.”

  “Yeah, but it would have only taken thirty seconds to return a text or a phone call.” I blow out a breath. “I can do better than that.”

  I have to do better than that because I’m going to be a dad.

  Dad.

  “Holy shit, I’m going to be a dad. I don’t know anything about kids. What if I screw it up?”

  Levi laughs. “You won’t. You’re going to be a wonderful father. Right after you start doing better.”

  “Agreed.”

  “You really haven’t been much help.”

  He just laughs and flips me off again. “You drank my coffee and bitched about your troubles. What else did you want?”

  “Just that, I suppose. Thanks, brother.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Thanks for meeting me on such short notice,” I say later in the afternoon, sitting before the board of directors of Seattle General.

  “What’s going on, Jace?” Mick asks.

  The board is comprised of Mick and four other members, some doctors, and some administrators.

  “I have a request,” I begin. “I’d like to requisition the money to hire a full-time executive assistant.”

  “You have an assistant,” Olive Sanders says, pursing her lips.

  “And she does fine with my schedule, but I want someone with more experience and more expertise in medical practices. The person I want to hire won’t come cheap, but I feel that it’s important for my wellbeing.”

  “Go on,” Edward Cussler says.

  “Frankly, working close to twenty hours a day isn’t working well for me. I love the position, and I know that I’m good at it, but bringing on a well-qualified executive assistant will help immensely with the amount of paperwork that I have every day, on top of the surgeries I still perform.”

  “Many chiefs choose to back off on their surgery loads,” Edwards suggests, but I shake my head.

  “That’s exactly the opposite of what I want. I’m an excellent surgeon, and I hope that you agree that my primary function here should be in the operating room.”

  “We don’t disagree with that,” Mick says.

  “And frankly, we don’t want you here for twenty hours a day,” Edward replies. “A burned-out doctor doesn’t do anyone any good, and is dangerous. We need you to perform at the best of your ability. I don’t see a problem with allocating the funds for a full-time assistant.”

  He rambles off a yearly salary budget that makes me smile. I even have someone in mind for the position, and they will gladly take that salary.

  “I’m engaged, and I’m about to become a father,” I tell them. “I know I don’t have to tell you that, but I want to be as transparent as possible with you. While the hospital and our patients are incredibly important to me, so is my fiancée and our child. It’s my hope that with the addition of my assistant, I can decrease to about twelve-hour days, barring any emergencies. Five days a week, of course.”

  “That sounds reasonable to me,” Olive says. “Congratulations, Dr. Crawford.”

  “Thank you.”

  After discussing a few more specifics, I hurry back to my office to make some calls and get going on my way to balancing my life. I need to reschedule a couple of things, and actually delegate a few more, which isn’t easy for a type-A personality like me, but it’s absolutely necessary.

  I shoot a text to Joy.

  Can you please meet with me at my place this evening? Seven o’clock?

  I grab my keys and
am heading out the door when she replies.

  I’ll be there.

  ~Joy~

  6:57.

  I’m ridiculous.

  This is Jace. He’s my best friend and the love of my life, and I’m sitting outside in my SUV like a chickenshit.

  There’s no good reason to be scared, and yet, here I am, terrified.

  I jump at the knock and put a hand to my chest as I roll the window down.

  “What are you doing out here?” Jace asks. God, it’s good to see him. His eyes are warm and eating me up like he’s happy to see me, too.

  I hope he’s glad to see me. I wouldn’t blame him if he gave me a piece of his mind and kicked me out after the way I acted last night.

  “I’m waiting for seven,” I reply and glance at the clock.

  6:59.

  “Come on.” He opens my door, and I cut the engine, reach for my handbag, and get out of the car. He shuts the door and reaches for my hand, which fills me with so much relief I want to cry. “You don’t ever wait outside, Joy. This is your home, too.”

  He ushers me inside and takes my coat. Once I’ve toed off my shoes, he takes my hand again and leads me into the living room.

  With the arrival of fall, it gets dark so much earlier in the evening. But Seattle is lit up before us through the windows. He has the gas fireplace lit. It’s long and filled with blue stones that glimmer from the light of the fire.

  It’s beautiful.

  So, I stand in front of it, my arms wrapped around my middle while I try to pull my thoughts together.

  “Joy, I’d like to talk.”

  “I know,” I whisper. “I want to talk, too, I’m just trying to figure out what to say.”

  “Well, I’ll start then. Please, come sit with me.”

  I turn and look at him, sitting on the edge of the couch with his arms resting on his legs, his hands hanging loosely between his knees. He watches me intently as if he’s trying to see inside my head.

  “I’ve had some time to think,” he begins, and for the first time, it occurs to me that he might have asked me here to formally break up with me.

  Fuck.

  I take a deep breath and sit beside him, but before he says anything, he pins me against the couch and kisses the ever-loving hell out of me. His hands dive into my hair, holding on tightly as his lips caress mine, brushing back and forth until I’m a squirming pile of mush from wanting him.

  When he pulls back for air, I breathe, “Wow.”

  “This is who we are, Joy. This is you and me. Always. Even when it’s hard. When we fight and when we’re happy. We love each other.”

  “I love you so much,” I murmur, my voice cracking with emotion. “And I owe you the biggest apology in the history of apologies.”

  “Shh.”

  “No, it’s true.” I sit up, forcing him to back away and listen. “I’m so sorry for the way I spoke to you last night. It was the hurt talking, the surprise from finding out about the baby, and just . . . everything. I told you before that I’m proud of you, and I am. I’m so damn proud.”

  He reaches over and takes my hand in his, listening. “But then I turned around and punished you for being successful, and that’s not fair. I promise to never do that to you again, Jace.”

  “Thank you. And I’m sorry that I’ve been MIA,” he says, pulling my hand up to kiss my knuckles. “I’ve been overwhelmed, to say the least, but that’s not an excuse for not communicating with you.”

  “We’ll do better,” I insist. “But I have more to apologize for. I’m sorry about the way I told you about the baby. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that in anger. When I found out yesterday, and then you invited me to dinner, I was excited to tell you at the restaurant.”

  “And then I was hours late, making you wait for me. That’s not going to happen again, sweetheart. I promise.”

  “I was frustrated,” I admit. “But again, not a good excuse. I sounded like a brat, and I’m sorry.”

  “I think that we’ve had a lot of life changes recently, and we’re both trying to get our footing,” he says, pushing my hair back behind my ear. “Are you happy about the baby?”

  I smile, feeling my eyes fill with tears. “Yeah. I’m excited. I’d never really given motherhood much thought because I was always so career-driven, but now that it’s happening, well, I don’t think I could be happier.”

  “I’m so glad,” he says, closing his eyes in relief. “I’m happy, too. And I know that my job isn’t super conducive to being a good dad—”

  “That’s bullshit,” I reply fiercely, “and I was horrible to throw that in your face.”

  “You weren’t wrong,” he says, frowning. “You should know that I’ve made some adjustments at work.”

  “You did not give up the chief position.” I feel myself going pale at the thought, but he shakes his head no.

  “No, I don’t think I could. I worked too hard for it, Joy. But I did hire an excellent executive assistant who’s going to come on and take over the majority of the paperwork and scheduling. I’m hoping to whittle my work hours down to no more than twelve hours a day, five days a week. Here.”

  He reaches for a book on the coffee table and opens it up.

  “A planner?” I ask and then laugh. “I should have known. Only you, Dr. Crawford.”

  “Hey, I’m organized,” he says with a smile. “This is for both of us. I’ve already written in what my schedule looks like for the next month. As you can see, the next two weeks are still very busy because I’m training my new assistant, but it starts to open up a bit after that.”

  “You’ve written in love weekends twice a month.” I trace the words written in Jace’s chicken-scratch with my fingertips.

  “That’s right,” he says. “And I’ll do my best to be home at the same time as you in the evenings, as long as there’s not an emergency that needs my attention.”

  “Jace, this is just . . . I don’t have words.”

  “Well, there’s more. As we get closer to the baby coming, and we have a clearer picture of the due date, I’ll arrange to take the two weeks off starting the day you give birth. I want to be here with both of you.”

  “You’re amazing,” I whisper, then point to next Wednesday. “Can you pencil me in here for lunch? I’ll come meet you at the hospital.”

  “Of course.” He writes it in with a smile. “We will schedule vacations and time together in advance. And I’ll do my best to make my schedule mirror yours as much as I can.”

  “Thank you.” I set the book on the table and climb into his lap, framing his face in my hands. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

  “We are going to make this work,” he promises. “And I owe you an apology, too. I promised that I wouldn’t make you feel like you’re second-fiddle to my job, and I didn’t succeed in that endeavor. Joy, I can’t promise that I won’t still work a lot, but I can guarantee that I’ll try harder, and do everything I can to respect our schedule.”

  “Thank you,” I repeat, resting my forehead against his. “What do we do now?”

  “Get naked,” he suggests.

  “No.” I giggle and press my lips to his in a quick kiss. “I mean, what do we do next? I don’t want to get married when I’m huge.”

  “I’m quite sure we can pull together a wedding before that happens. We have time. First, though, where are we going to live?”

  I blink, not having thought of that before. “Oh, good point. It would make sense to live here. It’s bigger than my house and closer to your job.”

  “I don’t want you to have to commute far for your job,” he says with a frown.

  “Well, I have some work news, too. With the baby coming, I don’t think I’ll want to go back full-time. I’m hoping for three days one week, four the next, and then alternate that way.”

  “I love that idea,” he says. “But you own the business.”

  “I’ll still own it, I’m just going to hire another part-time doctor. I have time to
find the right fit.”

  “Well, since we’re on the same page about where we’ll live, follow me.”

  He stands with me in his arms, sets me on the floor, and leads me through the house to the bedroom next to the master. It’s just a normal-sized room with a small walk-in closet, currently housing some home gym equipment.

  “How do you feel about this room as the nursery?”

  “Hmm.” I tap my finger on my lips. “It’s going to need some paint.”

  His lips twitch, and his eyes shine in happiness. “I know a girl.”

  “Nah-ah,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t think pregnant women are supposed to be around the fumes.”

  “Good point. I’ll hire someone.”

  “Then I think it’s the perfect room for the baby.”

  Suddenly, I’m scooped up into his arms, and he’s marching into our bedroom.

  “Now what are you doing?”

  “Well, since all of our business is sorted, I’m getting you naked. Any objections?”

  “Not even one.”

  Five years later

  ~Joy~

  “Mama!” Elizabeth Grace comes running over the wet sand toward me, her hand stretched out, and her sweet face lit up with excitement. “Mama, look!”

  “What do you have there, pumpkin?”

  “A crab!”

  She reaches me and gingerly holds a tiny, squirming crab in her hand.

  “Yes, you do. This is a hermit crab.”

  I spend a couple of minutes explaining how I know that, and then she’s off again to put the crab back in the water.

  My four-year-old is a sponge, soaking up everything in the entire world that she can. She loves animals like her mama, and she’s so damn smart, just like her daddy. We named her Elizabeth, after my mother, and I’ll never forget the day she was born, and my dad heard her name for the first time.

  It might have been one of the few times I’ve seen him cry.

  “This one is sleepy,” Jace says as he returns from his walk down the beach. He’s carrying our six-month-old son in a baby carrier. “If you’d like to take him back to the condo, I’ll play with Lizzy for a bit and then join you for lunch.”

  “I like that plan.” Before I take Elijah from him, I rise up on my tiptoes for a kiss. Jace cups my ass and gives it a squeeze.

 

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