I miss his voice, his laugh, his sense of humor. I miss his mouth, and his delicious smell, and the way he kissed my hair.
I wish he would have slept over here more. Then at least I’d have a pillow to hug at night that smells like him.
I take the picture of Brett and me and prop it up beside the photo of Aaron.
They both stare out at me.
I mash one of the couch pillows over my face. “Ugh! How did I get here?”
Just then, the first strains of “Love Bites” by Def Leppard issue from my speakers. Hmm. Forgot to turn off my cleaning music.
I lean against the couch, lolling my head back and forth to the beat. I pick up a stray comb sitting on a stack of books beside the couch.
I yell into the comb. I throw my head back, belting out all of my frustration.
Yes.
I am a rock god. Err, goddess.
Now if only I had a microphone cord to whip around, or a guitar to break.
Aaron and Brett continue to stare out at me from their two-dimensional world. I pick up Aaron’s photo, and lean against the wall.
Can you love two people at the same time?
While Def Leppard shouts out the evils of unrequited love, a passing reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall catches my eye.
A familiar black crew cab truck has just pulled onto my street.
OH. MY. DEAR. LORD.
I glance around the room, trying to decide what to do, and then notice myself in the mirror. What am I wearing? You can’t have a beautiful, romantic reunion when you’re wearing dirty fat pants and your hair is greasy.
I peek out of my living room window.
Be still my beating heart, he’s pulling up in front of the house.
This is not a drill, folks; I repeat, this is not a drill!
Okay. Focus. What do I need to do first?
I toss the picture back onto the coffee table and do a once-over in the mirror, only to be met with pointy nipples, sticking prominently through my T-shirt.
Holy nipple-icious, Batman!
Maybe I should put a bra on? Nah—if he misses me, being braless can only be an advantage.
I stand behind the front door, vibrating with anticipation.
What am I going to say? What is he going to say?
A knock sounds at the door.
This is it!
My heart is fluttering higher and higher. I feel like I’m soaring through the clouds, as if nothing could ever bring me back down to earth.
I fling the door back and there stands a man.
Who is not Brett.
My heart plummets like a free-falling elevator, and crashes explosively at the bottom.
“Oh, hey, Narayan,” I say, trying not to sound disappointed. I forgot that he and Brett have identical company trucks.
He shuffles awkwardly, hands shoved in his coat pockets.
“Hey!” He half grins. Crisp late October air rushes through the door, chilling me. His eyes flit down to my chest, but he quickly averts them.
I peek down at my chest, and sure enough, rock-hard nipples are straining through my T-shirt.
Believe me, Nar. These weren’t meant for you.
I hastily cross my arms. “What’s up?”
As he opens his mouth to speak, a creaky noise echoes in from the street. I shift my body to see around Narayan.
I stop breathing.
Brett is standing behind the lowered tailgate of his truck, and is tugging on something heavy. He’s wearing a light blue, long-sleeved T-shirt that strains against his chest and arms.
A hard lump forms in my throat. I haven’t seen him in nearly three weeks. Resisting the urge to run out to him, I take a shuddering breath.
“What…um, what are you guys doing here?” I ask, doing my best to sound cheerful.
“You’ll see,” Narayan says, backing away excitedly.
He jogs over to Brett and helps pull the mystery “thing” out of the truck box. It is covered in light gray material, to protect it, I’m guessing. They settle it onto a dolly and Brett steers it toward the house.
I can’t stop staring at him. Brett raises his eyes up to mine once, and gives me a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s the sort of look you give strangers, or people you’re very, very pissed off with.
Maybe, to him, I’m both.
“Hey,” I say quietly once they reach the door.
“Hey,” he mutters under his breath.
They wheel a large, rectangular object into my living room.
“What’s this?” I ask.
Narayan jumps in. “You’re going to love it.”
Brett narrows his eyes at him, but I sense he is somewhat amused as well. What is this thing? Brett removes the gray fabric covering, and takes a step back.
My hands flutter to my face.
“Oh my…”
It’s the most beautiful bookcase I’ve ever seen. Made of solid wood, and stained to match my hardwood floors. The shelves are deep, and backlights are built into each level. Fancy crown molding finishes off the look.
I take a step forward, running my hands over the shelves.
“It’s exquisite,” I murmur.
“I figured you could use it,” he says, gesturing to my particleboard bookcase bowing pitifully in the corner.
“Happy birthday, Sophie,” he adds, wearing a small, sad smile.
He still cares!
I look him in the eye, my voice quavering. “Thank you.”
My fingers continue inspecting the trim. I recognize it.
“That day at the hardware store…” I trail off.
He nods, his eyes softening. “I started building this for you months ago.” He breaks eye contact and looks around the room, scratching the back of his neck. All at once, he stands a bit straighter and crosses his arms, his features hardening.
“I figured I shouldn’t waste it,” he adds, his tone noticeably cooler.
What set him off?
I shift side to side, casting my eyes downward. This isn’t the lovey-dovey romance scene I had envisioned.
“Well, thanks again,” I say. “I love it.”
I trail my fingers over the shelves. “You do such beautiful work.”
Heavy silence fills the air. Brett and I keep looking at each other and then looking away.
Narayan coughs. “So, any plans this winter? Going anywhere warm?” he asks.
“I wish,” I say, smiling. “You could always pack me off to Greece with you and Sam.”
“We aren’t going until Easter now,” he says.
“Oh? I thought you were going just before Christmas?”
“Nah. We haven’t saved enough money yet. Besides, Greece is supposed to be really nice in the spring. A lot of Easter festivals.” He shrugs. “Might be cool.”
“So, what are you doing with the week you’ve already booked in December?”
“Just staying home. But one day during that week, if there’s enough ice, we want to have a party at the old outdoor skating rink. The one by Nita’s house. We’ll have cocoa, a bonfire, the works.”
He gives me an encouraging smile. “You should come.”
“I’d love—”
“She doesn’t skate,” Brett says abruptly. The tension, thick and suffocating, descends once more.
Narayan clears his throat. “I’m going to go wait in the truck.”
I nod, and he gives me a hug. “Good to see you, Soph. Hope you have a happy birthday.”
“Thanks, Nar.”
Brett and I are standing alone, the seconds ticking by.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
When did that clock get so loud?
He looks at the front door. “Look, I uh…I’ve gotta go.”
He takes a step away, and my heart silently screams to him, begging him to stay.
His hand reaches the doorknob.
“I really miss you,” I cry out.
Brett freezes. I notice his back and shoulder muscles tense up
beneath his light blue shirt.
“And I can’t stop thinking about you.”
He tilts his head toward me. Oh good! He’s listening!
“And, I just…”
He twists his torso toward me, but his hand is still on the door.
“You just, what?” he asks.
Stepping closer to him, I extend a hand and touch his forearm.
“I just wish we were back where we were.”
“And where was that, exactly?” he snaps.
His sudden anger stuns me. “Where we were before all of this mess,” I say.
I squeeze his forearm, and he looks at me, his mouth set in a hard line. But his eyes are soft, almost pained.
“Before, when we would spend hours watching dorky comedies. When we’d debate the merits of Tim Hortons versus Starbucks.”
He offers a grim smile.
“Before, when you would massage my shoulders after a hard day at work, and I’d make you apple pie.”
My breaths are fast and raspy.
“Before, when you’d kiss my lips and I’d feel like my whole body was on fire.”
His lips part, his own breathing matching my own.
“Before, when you’d hold me in your arms, and I’d feel like I was in the safest place in the world.”
I step even closer to him, my body just inches away from his. I can feel heat rolling off him. My arms itch to wrap around him.
“Before. When it was just us,” I whisper.
His body language changes immediately. His forearm tenses, and he pushes away from me. He points toward my living room.
“It was never just us.”
My eyes follow his pointed finger, and land on the two pictures I have on my coffee table. One of Brett and me—and one of Aaron and me.
“That looks really bad, doesn’t it?” I croak.
He stares at me, brow furrowed. Seconds tick by.
“I miss you, damn it!” I yell. “I love you.”
Brett swallows hard.
“I was just looking at a few pictures. It doesn’t mean that I don’t love you anymore.”
“You seriously don’t want him back?”
I pause. “I never said that. I could never wish someone dead. Don’t you realize the sort of pressure you’re putting on me?”
He throws his hands up in a gesture of defeat, and shakes his head. He turns again to the door.
“Stay here and talk to me!” I shout.
With his back turned, he takes a heaving breath. After what feels like an eternity, he speaks.
“I put pressure on you?”
Oh thank God, he’s talking!
“Yes,” I say gently. “What I feel is very…confusing. I love you, but it was unfair of you to ask me whom I’d choose.”
He cringes, and my heart shatters.
“Unfair? You know what’s unfair? Having to compete with someone who isn’t even here.”
He glances at the coffee table again, and steps toward me. I’m sure he can feel my body vibrating with adrenaline.
“I love you too, Sophie,” he begins. “I’m sorry, I never meant to make this harder for you. But I’m so fucking jealous, like I’m in second place.” He motions to the pictures. “What if I were grieving over a past love, and constantly comparing you to her. Wouldn’t that piss you off a bit?”
Gulp.
“Yes,” I admit.
“As much as I don’t want to think about you and this…Aaron,” he says, “I know it happened, and you’ll always miss him. But I need you to put me first. I know I sound like a selfish asshole, but I need that from you. I want you to want me more than anyone else in the world. I want to be the first person you think of in the morning, and the last person you think of when you fall asleep. I want to be the man of your dreams. You’re already the girl of mine.”
He stands with his hands on his hips, breathing heavily.
“Isn’t that the whole point of love? Loving someone with everything you have, and them loving you back? So, can you give that to me? That one small thing? Tell me that you love me most?”
My arms coil tight around my chest.
“I can’t.”
He sighs, his whole body sagging.
“Then we can’t be together.”
Tears run hot down my face. “Don’t say that.”
He moves back toward the door. “I need to go. Narayan’s waiting.”
His hands flex compulsively at his sides, and I just know that he’s itching to touch me again. Instead, he picks up the bookcase (seriously? How did he just do that? I knew he was strong, but damn!) and sets it in the exact spot where it looks most aesthetically pleasing.
Good looks and decor sense. Some guys just have it all.
He stands beside me once more, surveying his work. I feel his hand under my chin, tilting my lips upward.
I want to plead, and cry and beg.
But I’m devastated.
He plants a soft kiss on my cheek.
“Happy birthday, Soph.”
He squeezes my hand, and lets himself out.
Chapter 31
Jigsaw Puzzle
I have no idea what to do.
A genuinely good man has proclaimed his undying love for me and asked if I could just love him back.
And I told him I can’t.
Well, at least not in the way he wants. Whoever said honesty was the best policy was a complete asshole.
“You coming, Soph?” Sam says. We’ve just finished our lunch break at the hospital cafeteria.
“Be right there,” I say, gathering my purse.
“So, what are you going to tell St. Puke?” she asks.
I dig out a pro-and-con sheet from my scrub pocket and hand it to her.
“No idea. I can’t decide.”
Pros:
Clinic is close to home, has an interesting focus
Paid travel for continued education
Double my current salary
I get a say in how clinic is run
I get to tell St. Puke off when he’s acting like a jerk
Excellent benefits plan
No more scrubs!!!
Cons:
I would literally work for the devil
—
“What do you think I should do, Sam?”
She hands the list back.
“What’s your first instinct?”
“Tell him where he can stick his job offer.”
Samira snorts as we push through the main hospital doors.
“I know working for him is a bad idea,” I say. “I can’t stand him in the small doses I see him here—Imagine what it’d be like to be around him all day long. I want to hurl just thinking about it.”
We silently pad through the hallways.
“But…” Samira prompts.
“But…the money is fantastic. And I’d get to travel once in a while. And I wouldn’t have to wear scrubs. And the benefits plan he drew up is so great it almost made me cry.”
I rake my fingers down my face. I’m sure I look a bit like that famous Scream painting.
“I wish I could have the perfect job,” I say. “A job where I wake up excited to go to work every day. A job that I absolutely love. Do you think that exists?”
“Not unless you’re Oprah,” she says. “I think people are suited for some jobs more than others. But for the most part, having a job you love every minute of every day? That’s a pipe dream.”
“Well, there goes that thought. You know, we’re told from the time we’re able to work that you need to do something you love. Do you think it’s a pack of lies?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, I think it’s possible to love your job as a whole. Look at me. I love being a pediatric nurse. I love helping little kids get better, and making them laugh, and supporting their families. I love learning about childhood diseases, and how their little bodies react so much differently than adult ones. But, I don’t like it when they hit me, or when they play with their own crap.
”
“Sounds just like long-term care,” I say with a laugh.
She smiles. “Anyway, the point is, even though I might not like every aspect of my job, and some days I have to drag my ass out of bed to get here, I still love what I do.”
Hmm. I definitely don’t feel that.
“Oh, Soph! I forgot to tell you something.”
“What is it?”
“Emmie’s been asking for Brett’s number.”
Bile rises in my throat.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. So I gave her a number.”
Cue my stomach to hit the floor.
“Sam! How could you? If the tables were turned, I’d never—”
Wait. Is she laughing?
“What the hell is so funny?”
“Don’t worry. I gave her a number all right. It just wasn’t Brett’s.”
“Oh. Whose number did you give?”
She leans toward me and whispers, “The Gay Cruise Line.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did!” she squeals. “When she calls that number, it’ll be all, ‘To talk to hot guys, press 1.’ ”
I feel like doing a joyful little skippy dance. So I do.
“That is the best thing I’ve heard in months!” I say, hugging her. “Thanks, Sam.”
“Anytime.”
—
I’m seated in our staff room, doing the last chart entries for the day. It has, thankfully, been a quiet shift. Not that I’d say that out loud. All nurses hate the “Q” word.
The door creaks behind me.
“Ah, Sophie.”
Lumps of ice form deep in my belly.
“Hi, Dr. St. Luke,” I say.
He pulls up a chair across from me. “Have you made a decision about my offer?”
Way to get straight to the point.
“I’ve been considering my options,” I begin. “I’d like—”
“It’s not like you’ve got much choice, anyway.”
I stare at him blankly. “Excuse me?”
He steeples his fingers under his chin. “I doubt you’ll be employed here much longer.”
I feel my shoulders tense. “What gives you that impression?”
“Call it intuition. Foresight, perhaps. Although I think you will do well at my clinic, what with your vaccine knowledge and such, you really aren’t cut out to work here.”
His words sting. A lot more than I’d like to admit.
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