by S. M. West
I snort and roll my eyes. “The one? Seriously, Anna, I don’t believe in that shit and you know it, even if I can admit that you and Coop are perfect for each other. Ugh, and don’t even start with how right Ry is for Tate, or Van for Carys.”
A fake retching sound spills from my throat as my insides twist and I shove down any remote feelings that may resemble longing. Why do I suddenly feel like a tween again, unable to handle my emotions and wanting nothing more than to deflect?
She nibbles on her bottom lip. “You of all people have so much to give.”
Her suddenly serious and genuine tone causes me to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from being swept away with all these unwanted feelings.
“Thank you.” I quickly glance her way as I make a right onto a street a few blocks from her place. “I tell you what, I’ll keep an open mind, okay? Maybe someday there will be someone for me.”
She does a little lift in her seat and smiles. “That’s all I can hope for.”
“Fine. Okay, so can we move on from this mushy stuff? I’ve been holding off asking.” Now it’s my turn for my tone to sober. “I was giving you the time you asked for but I can’t wait any longer. Have you made up your mind?”
My best friend is an aspiring artist, and wickedly talented. She spent three years completing her MFA in Visual Arts at Columbia University and now, not even a year on the art scene and she’s already something of a sensation.
In fact, a world-famous Italian sculptor offered her an apprenticeship in Florence. Painting is her first love and her work is ridiculously brilliant, but she’s been dabbling with a new medium—marble—and the few sculptures she’s allowed Tate, our friend, to display in her gallery have gotten Anna noticed even more.
“I don’t know.” Uncertainty clouds her delicate features.
It’s a big decision. If she accepts the offer, she could be off to Italy at any time with her boyfriend. Coop and I work together and it’s no secret he’s madly in love and would follow Anna to the ends of the earth.
“Whatever you decide, I support you.” My chest tightens at the thought of her departure. “Besides, if you go, there won’t be time for you to miss me. I’ll visit every chance I get, and you know you won’t be able to keep Van and Carys away, let alone Tate, Ry, Max and—”
“Stop, I get it. You better come see me, and we’ll come home for visits.”
My heart trips, conflicted because her once-in-a-lifetime opportunity means I’ll be without one of my best friends. I’ll miss her like crazy. But my feelings aside, if anyone deserves their dreams to come true, it’s my girl Anna.
I park in front of her place and she hugs me. “Don’t forget Tate’s tomorrow.”
Our friend has just had her second child, and Anna is gaga over the butterball. She can’t get enough of him. Kids aren’t my thing. I’m awkward, not knowing how to act and scared to death of being asked to hold the tiny beings. But I can’t deny Tate’s son is adorable, and deep down, I’m also excited for our visit.
She bounds from the car, waving when she reaches the front door of her building. From the cupholder, my phone chimes. As head of intelligence for Hart Corporation, a small global private security firm for hire by wealthy private citizens and select governments, I’m always monitoring someone or something. I get notifications all day and well into the night.
I press my thumb to unlock my phone and stare down at the alert. A chill runs along my spine and the hairs on the nape of my neck rise. He’s back. I flick my gaze to where Anna was just standing, remembering how close she came to a fate similar to mine at his hands.
The day has come.
It was always inevitable and as much as I’d like to say it hasn’t weighed heavily on my mind, it does. Sweat beads between my breasts and fear tastes vile in my mouth.
He is here.
He is in my city.
Older, but easily recognizable. Dark and menacing, and I battle to find my breath. To practice what years of therapy have taught me. I am in control.
His black eyes and wicked smirk taunt and torment me from the Page Six website. My stomach twists and sours in horror.
Max
My eyes burn from the lack of sleep and the relentless pounding in my head reminds me just how long it’s been since I’ve slept. Nearly forty-eight hours. The adrenaline high of leading a top-notch team of professionals in a successful cardiac transplant has long since worn off. But it was one hell of a rush — something I’m sure to never forget.
Although I’d never forget because of my patient. She’s my youngest patient to date, and my age. That’s why this one hit a little too close to home. A thirty-two-year old humanitarian is struck by a viral disease while in Africa, trying to better the lives of those less fortunate. The universe can be truly twisted and cruel. She literally paid with her heart.
Luckily, her dire situation, and general good health—save for her failing heart—moved her up the donor list and we got a match just in time. I should go home and get some sleep. She’s doing well and is being monitored closely for any signs of rejection. If something were to happen, the staff have instructions to call me, no matter the time.
I quickly change and get out of the hospital before I cave and crash in a staff room or on a couch.
Slumping in the back of the Uber, I fish out my phone to text Tommie. It’s too late to call her but I can’t wait to tell her about the surgery. She, of all people, would know how much tonight means to me. The corners of my mouth turn upward in a smile when I think about how I’ve bored her for years with my planned career path to becoming a cardiovascular surgeon.
Shit, I’ve got six texts from my sister, Tate. Years ago now, I chose to leave Cambridge, where I studied medicine, and move back to New York to protect my sister from our mother, Taya. I hadn’t been there for Tate when she needed me the most and I’d decided I was no longer sitting on the sidelines while our mother threatened her family and future.
I was supposed to spend a few hours with her and my newborn nephew, James Evan Hart, but the post-op and wanting to stick around at the hospital forced me to cancel. I’d promised to make it for dinner, and if not, I’d call. I never did. I was too caught up with work at the hospital and lost track of time.
Without paying mind to the hour, my fingers hover over the dial pad, ready to call and apologize, when the twelve-thirty at the top of my screen registers. It’s too late.
There is a good chance Tate’s awake and feeding the baby, but there’s also the possibility she’s getting one of those rare and precious moments of sleep that moms everywhere covet and don’t always take advantage of. I opt to text.
Me: Sorry, Bear. Leaving the hospital now. Will come over later today once I’ve got some sleep. Miss you and the little man.
Before I can slip the phone into my jacket pocket, it buzzes.
Tate: You’re lucky I love you. We miss you too. Sleep, then come over. No excuses. Xoxo
My lips curve into a smile. I miss my twin, and her sweet baby boy, her second son. She’s a natural at motherhood even if at times, she worried she’d be like our mother, cold and manipulative. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Immense joy washes over me at my sister living her dream, having a man who worships her and a family to love and nurture. I can’t explain it in words, and I needn’t with Tate. She gets it. That’s the thing about being in the womb together for nine months, sucking each other’s thumbs—we don’t need words.
Once out of the Uber, I saunter into my Upper East Side apartment building and fire off a text to Tommie. She, too, has sent me a few over the past twenty-four hours wanting to know how everything went.
Me: You up?
Tommie: Cut to the chase. How’d the surgery go?
Me: Phenomenal. Patient is doing well.
Tommie: OMG, I wish I could hug you. So proud of you!
Me: A hug from you sounds perfect