Shaw— I’m trying, but she insisted I find out Claire’s reaction.
Me— No reaction yet. She’s currently nursing her own hangover.
Shaw— Give me something to tell her.
Me— Claire just crawled on her hands and knees to the bathroom and looked worse than a baby goat taking its first steps.
Shaw— Perfect
I drop the phone and go back to the bedroom. Claire calls my name faintly, and I find her sitting on the edge of the tub. Her eyes light up with gratitude when I hand her the pills and bottle of water. She gulps them down, swallowing half the bottle in the process.
“I used the bathroom, attempted to brush my teeth, and pulled my hair back. It took all my energy.”
I pick her up and take her back to bed, cradling her against me and waiting for the ibuprofen to kick in. After a while, she lifts her head to mine. Her eyes are now clear and her cheeks flushed.
“Thank you.”
“Always.”
“And remind me to thank your housekeeper. The floors are impeccably polished, and the sheets are softer than ever before.”
“I’ll be sure to compliment her on the crawl-worthy floors. As for the sheets, they are new.”
“Did you need new sheets?”
“For you I did, they’re identical to your favorites but in a larger size to fit my bed.”
Her eyes fall to the bed then slowly roam to the side, her head turning to scan the room. “Is that the painting Grace gave me for Christmas?”
“It is.”
“Are those my Parisian candlesticks?”
“They are, and if you keep looking, you’ll see a lot of your stuff in here.”
“What’s going on?” Her voice is laced with confusion.
“I could tell you, but I’d prefer to show you. Think you can get out of bed?”
“Yes.”
I slip out from under her, go to the dresser, and pull out a silk nightgown.
“How did that get here?”
“These four drawers are yours.”
She slips the nightgown on and grips my hand as I take her through the bathroom and to the closet. Bizzy and Gail did an excellent job hiring the contractor to renovate the space. There is now an abundance of cubicles filled with her shoes, dual columns of custom drawers with our clothes, and three tiers of hanging shelving. My clothes have been re-hung to the side, and most of the space is organized with her things. She doesn’t say anything; her only reaction is a small gasp. We go back into the bathroom where almost all of her toiletries are placed around. Her grip tightens, and I lead her to the middle of the living room.
She twists and turns, her eyes growing wider as she takes it in. Her colorful pillows and blankets are placed and draped on my furniture. The built-in shelves that were sparse are now loaded with her favorite books and knick-knacks.
There’s also a lot of blank space. Nick rearranged the furniture to open up the room and allow for more seating.
“Did they do all this?”
“It was a group effort, including Gail and Doni.”
“What about my apartment?”
“Shaw worked out a deal to get you out of your lease. The movers are coming next weekend. Packing boxes are already there. We’ll go over on our days off, and you can decide what comes here and what goes to storage. Anything of mine you don’t like can go to charity or storage as well. I left the kitchen, office, and guest room for you to decide. You want to decorate that bedroom and bathroom with your furniture and belongings, go for it. We’ll move mine.”
“You did all this without talking to me. What if things didn’t work out?”
“Not working out wasn’t an option.”
She goes quiet again, leaving my side and walking to the shelves filled with pictures. I already had a few frames around the room of family, but now there are more—mostly of the two of us.
“Where did these come from?” She picks one up, running her finger over the glass.
“Everyone. Grace was in charge of that project. She collected, framed, and displayed.”
“I didn’t know some of these existed,” she says quietly.
“I didn’t either until last night when I got you into bed and had a chance to admire her work.”
“They really went all out.” She places the frame back on the shelf and picks up another.
“More are coming,”
“Are you building a shrine?”
“There’s a lot of space.”
“I can’t look at myself that much.”
“I’ll take some to my office.”
“Let me amend; even you can’t look at me that much.”
“I disagree. I can’t get enough of you.”
Her lips twitch, and she replaces the picture, scanning the room again. I remain quiet, bracing for her reaction. I didn’t fuck around, moving her in without her knowledge.
“I’m freaking out,” she admits.
“I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”
“No, you don’t understand. Something has happened to me. I’m standing here trying my best not to cry.” Her eyes begin to glisten, and I step into her space, circling her waist.
“Why do you want to cry?”
“I don’t know! Ever since those two weeping wimpsters came over and made me purge my soul, I’ve been different.”
“There’s nothing wrong with showing your feelings.”
“Why aren’t you freaking?”
“I kinda like seeing this softer side.”
Her eyes flame, and the blood drains from her face. “Soft? I’m not soft!” she shouts. “I’m independent, mouthy, and the tell-it-like-it-is girl. People rely on me to keep things real. I’m reserved with my emotions. There’s nothing wrong with crying. I cried when my best friend slammed into a barricade because a raging bitch tried to kill her. I cry when we lose patients because I’m not heartless, and it hurts like hell. I cry when my boyfriend breaks my heart into a billion pieces. None of those things are happening right now. This urge to burst into tears means something is wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” I fight my grin.
“Of course, you’d think that. You love this girly shit. You let me get sentimental last night with our friends.” She scrunches her nose, crinkles her brows, and shivers in disgust. “I was sappy, and not any sappy, the gross kind of sappy. It was shameful!”
“I didn’t let you do anything. You swung around with an agenda and let it fly. It was sweet.”
She sucks in a breath, her eyes going wide with horror. “The old Claire would never do that. The old me would be livid with you for doing all this behind my back. You snuck into my home—”
“Bizzy and I have keys. There was no sneaking.”
“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, “you made life-changing decisions, moving most of my essentials into your place when I’ve had no more than a toothbrush here forever. You built me a custom closet and hung my clothes in it, arranged movers for next week, and had our friends decorate your living room with a montage of our relationship through pictures. It’s overwhelming. And, instead of screaming my head off, I’m fighting the emotional outburst clawing its way up my throat.”
I cradle her face in my hand, tilting her chin so she can’t look away. “There’s a lot to break down here, but let’s start with the toothbrush. When I lost you and realized you only had a toothbrush here, it became a huge fucking problem with me. I expected some resistance; that’s why I compromised by bringing the essentials now and working on the other stuff together. Luckily, we’re not having a knock-down drag-out over my life-changing decisions since you already agreed. I sped up the process, knowing I wasn’t taking no for an answer. The closet was a present, from me to you, to show how much I want your things in there. The pictures may be a montage of our relationship, but they represent many incredible memories. Every one of those images is seared in my brain, but I wanted them on display to remember them every time I walk into this ho
use.”
Her eyes begin to shine again.
“And, for the record, the old Claire may have pitched a fit, screamed her head off, and made this a lot more difficult, but I’m happy with the new side of you.”
“You don’t like the old me?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. I fell in love standing across from you at a college party the first weekend we met. I’ve been falling harder every day since. This is an added bonus to an already perfect woman who has given me the gift of being mine.”
That does it. Her lips quiver and tears spill down her cheeks as she sucks in a shaky breath. Her hands go to my head, and she pulls me down to meet her mouth, crying openly as she kisses me. I welcome the saltiness of her tears, feeling her tremble in my arms.
“It has to be the hangover,” she says into my mouth.
“Yeah, babe, we’ll blame it on the hangover.”
Chapter 9
Claire
“One week could equal one month, one year, one decade…” Grace singsongs in my ear, squeezing my hand affectionately.
“Actually, it’s been two weeks,” I correct her.
“He had you moved in one week. The second week has been setting up your home. Technically, I’m right.”
“I’ll give you that.” I return the squeeze.
“We love what you’ve done; this place is gorgeous.” Bizzy joins us from putting Brinley down and hands me my wine.
I sip slowly, not ready for a repeat of the martini incident. “You guys helped.”
“No, we did small things. This is all you. This condo could be in a magazine since you’ve put your stamp on it.”
“You’re not kidding. When Mathis said anything you want, he meant it,” Grace adds.
My smile grows wider with their compliments, and a rush of pride surges through me. It means a lot they approve, but more so, I’m in love with the transformation. Mathis made it his mission to convert this place from a bachelor pad, giving me Carte Blanche. After looking at my things and how they mesh with his, we decided to put most of my furniture into storage. Kitchen items, linens, artwork, more knick-knacks, and general personal items, we blended together. The exception was my bedroom set. It replaced his in the guest room, and I redecorated, complete with new bedding, tons of pillows, and a ceiling overhang that makes it wispy-romantic. I was nervous to his response, considering it was hyper-feminine.
After one look around, he stalked to me, and we proceeded to christen the new bedding without a word. It was the first of many approving reactions I received during the makeover.
He was with me every shopping trip, slipping his credit card to the salespeople and telling me to go for it. The new arrangement in the living room opened up for more seating, and we needed it, so I chose a lush buttercream leather sofa and matching oversized chair so soft you feel like you’re floating on clouds. We painted walls, repositioned artwork, replaced the television with a new one with a larger screen, and added a bar-top table to the kitchen for casual dining. All of it is beautiful.
I still consider our styles modern, but there is no more masculinity anywhere to be found. It is perfect.
Once again, he showed his approval by christening the new furniture, rug, and table.
We worked our asses off. Every second either of us wasn’t working or sleeping, we were doing things around here. I gave us a self-imposed deadline of today to finish because tonight is our night to host MDN.
“Thank you.” I break from my thoughts and glance between Bizzy and Grace. “I love it.”
“When are Kelly and Mitch coming over?” Bizzy asks.
“They’re coming for dinner on Friday. It’s my next night off. It’s going to be interesting.”
“Why is that?”
“Because, one minute, I’m hunkering down in their condo and they’re given mixed signals about my relationship status. Less than a week later, behind my back, Mathis calls and tells them I’ve moved in with him. He didn’t give me a chance to break the news gently, or explain our reconciliation, or the fact we decided to live together. My mom has been blowing up my phone, pressuring me until I told her the toned-down story of what happened. Dad has been quiet, too quiet. I’m wondering if he’s going to show up tomorrow night, yank Mathis out the door, and pound him a few times.”
“Mitch isn’t violent!” Bizzy looks horrified.
“He’s a dad with one daughter. When I got my phone back from Mathis, there were several messages from him with memes of men holding shotguns. He went as far as to send me the Florida process for acquiring firearms. I had serious flashbacks to Grandpa Roy’s shotgun incident.”
Grace cough-chokes, her water dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. I eye her suspiciously.
“Um, actually, Mitch called me and asked for Grandpa’s number.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“Yes, how could I not?”
Grace’s grandpa is my number one fan. He and I hit it off, and he enjoys my mouthy nature. It’s a running joke he wants to steal me away. Of course, he’s fifty years older and lost the only love of his life, so it’s always fun to play along. Years ago, he chased Grace’s date off his property with his shotgun, shooting out his taillights when the guy was caught screwing the town bimbo in the barn. The story is classic. Every time he tells it, he embellishes more and more, which is exactly why I’d never want my dad to get any ideas.
“Well, maybe I should warn Mathis.”
“I’m sure it’s all fun and games.” Grace attempts to assure me.
I peer beyond the dining area and find Mathis staring at me. He pats his thigh, indicating for me to come sit with him.
“I think I’m being summoned.” I wave my wine toward the living room.
“One more second.” Bizzy puts her hand on my elbow. “You seem happy, are you?”
“Remember that story about our first night together when I woke up and felt promise and hope? That feeling is back.”
Her lips split into a wide smile, and she squeezes my elbow before jerking her head to the other room.
Mathis is looking at his phone when I get to him and nudge myself onto his lap.
“Who’s messaging you this late?”
“It’s a meeting request for tomorrow afternoon.”
“Doctor’s powwow?”
“No, this looks like it includes management and doctors from pediatrics and med-surg.”
“That’s unusual, do you know what’s going on?” Bizzy questions.
“I heard just this morning rumblings about supplies going missing.”
“Is that why the Director of Material Management was meeting with Evie yesterday?” I remember seeing him in her office.
“Most likely, he’s meeting with different supervisors.”
“What’s missing?”
“Petty things. Boxes of gauze, alcohol swabs, latex gloves, stuff like that. But, a few days ago, several cases of hypodermic needles were unaccounted for, which set off alarms.”
“Oh shit,” Nick and Shaw say at the same time.
Drug rings and trafficking in Miami has always been a major problem. Recently, certain areas have had major busts, and drugs confiscated are generally associated with syringe injection. Needles are selling like gold on the black market. DEA is cracking down hard on supplier resources. The missing cases of hypodermic needles from a hospital are a major cause for alarm.
“Do they suspect someone in our two departments?” The thought of someone on our team stealing for drug use is unfathomable to me.
“Not yet, these meetings are being held with every department over the next few days. I’ll know more tomorrow,” he explains.
“Are you concerned?”
“Not yet, no need to borrow worry. This meeting seems pretty standard.” His face is impassive, showing no signs of concern.
“Well, if you’re not worried, I’m not.”
“Speaking of worried, anything I should know about Friday night? Nick tells me Mitch is
asking advice from Grandpa Roy.”
Grace and Bizzy break into giggles at the same time Nick and Shaw’s mouths curve into shit-eating grins. I take a sip of wine and press closer.
“About that. In the off-chance firearms are involved, how are you at dodging bullets?” His eyes lock with mine, the blue growing brighter, right before he throws his head back and roars.
The room erupts, and I join in until my side aches, and I’m gasping for air. He kisses the top of my head and bends so his lips are at my ear.
“Get ready. When we get these freeloaders out of here, I plan to show my appreciation for the best MDN ever.”
My stomach spasms, and I immediately think of a way to clear out our house.
"Your boyfriend was amazing today,” my co-worker, Lora, tells me as I read over my patient charts.
“I heard. It’s always nice to tell the family good news.” Mathis got the honor of meeting with one of our patient’s family today and telling them she was in remission. The girl is fifteen, and after a year of uncertainty, fear, countless treatment plans, and a recent bone marrow transplant, she is going to resume a normal life.
“It was touching. The mother and father were in tears, and she kept chanting, ‘oh, thank you, God,’ over and over. Even you would have gotten emotional.”
I picture the scene in my head and wish I was on shift today.
“I’ve met my emotional quota for a while, but I’m sure it was a beautiful scene.”
“Here he comes.”
I’d have to be blind to miss the dreamy glaze in her eyes before I turn to see Mathis strolling our way.
“Hey, babe.” He bends to kiss me briefly, his hand rounding my neck where his thumb presses against my pulse point. My heart skips a beat and begins to speed, and he grins when he feels it.
Since we’ve gotten back together, he does this often, and I’ve become accustomed to it. “You on your way home?”
“I’m going to go to the gym, order us some food, and bring it back. Evie approved you taking your break at nine.”
I straighten my spine and narrow my eyes. “Mathis, my break isn’t until eleven. You can’t go to my boss and pull your weight as my boyfriend.”
Heartthrob (Bennett Brothers Series) Page 9