Think Again

by Isabel Lucero

  “So, we’ll have a lot of free time?”

  “Maybe,” I say with a shrug. “You could use this time to go over some patient files. Scott’s already told some of them about you coming in, so they know they may be seeing a new doctor soon.”

  “Great. I’ll be starting full time on Monday.”

  “Really?” I ask, and I hate that my voice was full of excitement.

  He chuckles. He heard it too. “Yep.”

  “Cool,” I say as nonchalantly as possible.

  Chris disappears into the back and comes out wearing his white lab coat, and if possible, looks even more handsome. The white coat has never been this appealing. I catch myself staring and immediately look up at his face to see if he caught me.

  “What do you think?” he asks, spreading his arms. He caught me.

  “Oh. You look fine.” I try playing it cool.

  Chris laughs. “Good to know.”

  “So, have you moved into your house yet?” I ask.

  “That’s what I’ve been doing the last couple of days.”

  “Oh yeah? I’m sure it feels good to be out of that hotel.”

  “Well, I’m not out of it yet. I don’t have my utilities turned on until next week.”

  “Ah. That sucks.”

  “At least I’ll be moved in soon. My furniture arrived the other day, as well as my car, so I’m starting to feel more at home.”

  “Good,” I say with a smile.

  He comes around the desk and sits in the chair next to me. Nobody is scheduled to come in for another hour, so unless we have a walk-in, it’s just us. Pray for me.

  “So, how’ve you been?” he asks, pinning me with those blue eyes that feel like they’re looking into my soul.

  “I’ve been fine.”

  “Everything’s good at home?” he questions, and something in his tone tells me he wants the answer to be no. Call me crazy, but I hear it.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” I respond. “It’s the same, but I’m doing okay.”

  He rests his right ankle over his left knee, sits back into the leather chair, and studies me.

  “Tell me to mind my own business whenever you want, but I don’t understand how you can still be there. You said you wanted to get your ducks in a row, but what does that mean?” Before I can answer, he drops his leg and leans closer. “I only wonder, because I couldn’t imagine staying with the person who betrayed my trust.”

  “I know. It seems dumb to be sticking around. Trust me, I’ve thought about this millions of times. Look, he doesn’t believe in divorce. His parents, grandparents, and great grandparents never divorced. They have that whole thick and thin, for better or for worse stuff ingrained into their heads.” I laugh a humorless laugh. “I know it’s supposed to be that way, but I’m thinking I have a pass to get out of that. How much worse do I have to put up with? You know?”

  He nods, allowing me to keep talking.

  “Anyway, he and I went through this stuff before. I threatened divorce then, and he said he wouldn’t grant me one, and I don’t put it past him to be spiteful and make it to where I don’t have the means to leave him. Long story short, I forgave him for what he did before and gave him another chance, because he said we could go to counseling. Never happened, by the way.”

  “Okay, so where do your ducks come into play?”

  “My ducks are evidence of his cheating, for one. I need proof that I can show him. Multiple women, multiple times, and each situation has to be one he can’t talk himself out of. He’s good at that. My theory is that when presented to him, he won’t want the messy, mud-slinging, reputation damaging divorce. He’ll let me go without a fight, because he won’t want me to go to court with all the shit he’s been doing. I’m thinking he’d much rather tell his family some lie as to why we’re getting divorced rather than admit to them that he’s been fucking up this whole time.”

  “Okay. That makes sense. You said for one. What’s for two?”

  “Oh. I need to find a place to live.”

  “I see.”

  “What’s your story?” I ask, wanting the attention off of me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everyone has a story. So, what’s yours?”

  He shifts in his seat, looking a little uncomfortable. “Well, I was with this woman for three years, and right before I was going to propose to her, she told me she had found someone else.”

  “What?” I exclaim. “She told you that?”

  “The crazy thing is that I didn’t even suspect anything. I was always working, which was one of her excuses as to why she couldn’t be with me.”

  “Pft. What a bitch.” I pause, cringing a little. “Sorry.”

  He chuckles. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “So, she just came out and told you this? Out of the blue?”

  “I think she suspected that I was going to propose. Maybe she found the ring.”

  “You had bought it already?” My face morphs into one of shock and then pity.

  “Yep. She didn’t want to marry me. This was her way of ending it before waiting for me to propose and having to say no. She’s still with the guy, so there’s that.”

  “Does that make you feel any better?”

  He contemplates his answer for a while, his eyes narrowing as he looks to the side. “At least she loves him. She didn’t leave me for a random fuck buddy. She loved the guy. I don’t know. That hurts I guess. That she allowed herself to have feelings for someone else.”

  “Yeah, it’s a double edged sword. You’re either being cheated on for the sake of just getting some on the side, or you’re being cheated on because your significant other found someone to fall in love with. It hurts either way, I guess.”

  “Yeah. So, she moved out and started her life with him, and about nine months later, here I am in Alaska.”

  He gives me a smile, but this one is a bit more forced. He’s still hurt by what she did, and I can’t blame him.

  “Well, that other guy must be the best looking guy on the planet if she left you for him.”

  He gives me a lopsided grin. “Is that a compliment?”

  “I think so,” I say with a smile. “I’m sure you want that other guy to be hideous, but I’m just saying . . . what could she have been thinking?”

  He laughs. “You’re good for my ego, keep talking.”

  “Oh, stop. I’m done with you.” I laugh and spin my chair around.

  “I’m not done,” he says, spinning my chair back around to face him. He leans in close. So close I can smell the mint on his breath. I’m lost in his eyes as his tone turns serious. “Your husband might be a good man, generally speaking; a good worker, loves his parents, and whatever else. I don’t know him, so I can’t say much, but based on what I do know, he’s a terrible husband. He doesn’t deserve someone like you, and you don’t deserve the pain he’s putting you through. I hope you find happiness, Aria.”

  I lick my lips and try to find my breath in order to speak words. “Thank you. I hope you do, too.”

  He leans back, going back to his happy-go-lucky demeanor. “I’m a happy man, Aria. I love my new town, I love my job, and I love my house. I’ll find a woman to love eventually, but right now, life is good. Yours will be too. Just wait.” He smiles, and this one is his full, megawatt smile, showcasing his perfect pearly whites.

  After a moment’s thought, I ask him a question. “Do you hate the man she cheated on you with?”

  His brows furrow momentarily. “She says she didn’t cheat on me. Not physically. I don’t know whether I can believe that or not, but she still allowed her friendship with this guy to grow into something more. It was serious enough that she wanted to leave me for a chance with him. I don’t hate the guy. People are always quick to hate the other person, but it was our partner that allowed them to think it was okay. You know? They let them work their way in. Whether they hid the fact that they were in a relationship, or told a lie about how unhappy they were, or whatever t
he case may be, they did or said something to make that other person believe it was okay to take it there. They have the ability to say no. To not cross that line. That’s their responsibility, not the other persons. That person doesn’t know us.”

  “It’s hard for me not to hate them, even though I know he’s at fault, and he’s the one I need to worry about. I guess I hate them for having a part of him. I hate them for having something he wants. I suppose it’s just female insecurities.”

  “Aria,” he says with surprise. “You shouldn’t have any insecurities. Are you kidding? You’re beyond gorgeous. I don’t know what these other girls look like, but they can’t hold a candle to you, I’m sure of it. Don’t compare yourself to them. He’s fucking them because they’re willing and he wants to. Simple as that. Not because you’re lacking anything.”

  His kind words and compliment make my cheeks redden and my heart race.

  “Is that a compliment?” I ask, mirroring his own words.

  He laughs. “It sure was.”

  “Thank you, Chris. I mean, Dr. Callahan,” I say, giving him a mischievous smirk. “We are at work after all.”

  “Ooh. I like that,” he replies with a wink.

  “People call you Dr. Callahan all the time.”

  “Yeah, but nobody says it the way you just did,” he says, his voice getting lower.

  “And how was that?” I ask, hearing the seduction in my tone.

  He smiles and stands up from the chair. “Like you were picturing me wearing nothing but this lab coat.”

  My jaw drops and he walks away just as the door opens and Martha, our eighty-six year old patient comes in.

  I can’t believe he just said that! I wasn’t imagining him that way . . . but I am now. It takes me a minute to get over the shock of what he said, and then I check Martha in, and she fawns over Chris as he introduces himself. Twenty-five minutes later, she’s leaving, and Chris and I are alone again.

  “You still thinking about me in my lab coat?” he asks, as he takes a seat next to me again.

  I almost spit out my coffee. With a nervous laugh, I say, “Uh. No. I wasn’t in the first place.”

  “But you are now.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Nope. Lab coats don’t do it for me.” What a lie.

  “No? So what does?”

  I look him over and try to come up with something he doesn’t have. Handsome face? He has it. Perfect smile? Yep, has that too. Sense of humor? Oh yeah. Amazing head of hair? You betcha. This guy has it all.

  “I like tattoos. Lots of them. Maybe even nipple piercings.”

  He chokes out a laugh. “Wow. Wasn’t expecting that.”

  I grin. “Yeah, well, you asked.”

  “Indeed I did.”

  We sit quietly for a while, and he gets on his phone while I mess around on the computer.

  “Hey, how’s that Lucky Wishbone place?” he asks, talking about one of the local restaurants that’s been here since 1955.

  “It’s good. They have a little bit of everything, but they’re famous for their fried chicken, and their shakes are delicious.”

  “Want to go have some lunch when we’re done here?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I say nervously. “I was gonna go for a hike.”

  “Then you definitely need food before you do that. Don’t want you passing out out there.”

  I turn my chair and face him again. “What’re you doing?”

  “What?”

  “This whole going out to lunch all the time.”

  “People need to eat.”

  “Right, but this is kind of a weird situation, isn’t it?”

  “Is it? What’s weird about friends having lunch?”

  I twist my mouth up at him. “Friends, huh?”

  He lifts his hands up and puts on an innocent façade. “Hey, lady. I don’t know what your intentions are, but I assure you, mine are pure.”

  I bark out an embarrassingly loud laugh. “Yeah, right.”

  “Look, I won’t cross any lines that you clearly mark down,” he states with a lift of his brow.

  I take that to mean that if I don’t put up any boundaries, then game on.

  “I’m married.”

  “To a man who’s cheating on you and who you’re wanting to divorce.”

  “People will think I’m cheating on my husband if they see me out with you.”

  “But you’re not.”

  “Because we’re just friends.”

  “That’s right,” he says with a grin.

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I am.”

  I huff. “Fine.”

  “Great. It’s a date.” I pin him with a glare and he laughs. “A friendly one.”

  Chris sits across the booth from me, looking through the menu while my eyes dart around the restaurant, looking for any familiar faces. The first time Chris and I had lunch, I didn’t feel weird about it. I had just met him, and it was innocent.

  The second lunch had me feeling a little more nervous, because I was already developing a crush, but I still didn’t think too much into it. Now, though. Now I feel like we have this silent understanding going on. He won’t cross any lines with me unless I allow him to. Unless I initiate it myself or lead him to believe I want to go there. Which means he’s already willing to cross that line.

  With the knowledge that I can cheat on Aaron with Chris, I feel like I already am, and therefore, I’m nervous as hell being out in public with Chris now.

  “Stop looking around. You’re making yourself look guilty when there’s nothing to feel guilty about,” he says, looking up at me from the menu.

  “I don’t feel guilty.” It’s a partial lie.

  “Good. Aria, we haven’t done anything. I haven’t even told you I want to do anything with you. You realize that, right? Sure, we flirt, but that’s our personalities, right?”

  His words sort of sting, but they’re true. He hasn’t told me he wants to fuck me, and I did tell him I’m flirtatious by nature, so maybe he is too. Maybe I’ve worked up this weird possible affair in my head, and he hasn’t even thought about me like that.

  “Yeah. Right.”

  “I mean, I do want to fuck you, but that’s neither here nor there.”

  I gasp out loud and my eyes widen to twice their size. “Oh my god!” I look around frantically, trying to figure out if anyone heard.

  “I’m kidding. Relax.” He looks up from his menu and gives me a lopsided, adorable smile.

  “Oh my god. I can’t deal with you.”

  “Yes, you can. Now, let’s order, so we can go hiking.”

  “We?” I ask, perplexed.

  “Well, it would be kind of rude to have lunch with me, and then not invite me to go hiking when you know I’m new in town and have no friends, and no idea where all this stuff is.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. I think I’m going to get the fried chicken,” he says, changing the subject.

  “You’re insane,” I say with a laugh.

  “Come on. It’ll be fun. I can protect you from the bears.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “You know you want to.”

  I can’t fight my smile. “I have to go home and change first.”

  “Me too.”

  “So, you’re riding with me to the falls?”

  “You’ll have to pick me up from the hotel, but yeah.”

  “Fine. I’ll allow you to come.”

  “Oh really?” he says, waggling his brows.

  “Oh, stop.”

  “It’s so fun, though.”

  I shake my head but don’t respond. We get through lunch with little sexual innuendos, and more conversation about the waterfall we’re going to. I make sure to tell him what he should wear and bring with him, and what he doesn’t have, I’m sure I do.

  Once we leave the restaurant, we get into our own cars and head in our respective directions. It doesn’t take me long to get ready. I put my hair into a hi
gh ponytail, change into some workout pants and a tank top, and put on my water proof boots. It can be pretty muddy down there, so you definitely don’t want to wear any nice shoes. I wrap a light hoodie around my waist, because sometimes it can get cool near the water, so layers is always good. I shove some water bottles and bug spray into my purse and head out.

  It isn’t until I’m driving up to the hotel that I realize I could very well see my husband here. Shit. Wouldn’t that be something?

  Luckily for me, Chris is already standing out front with a backpack slung over his shoulder. In some Adidas jogging pants, tennis shoes, and a hoodie, this is the most casual I've seen him look. But god help me, he looks just as delicious.

  When I pull up, he climbs in quickly, tossing his bag in the back.

  "What all did you bring?" I ask.

  "Water, another pair of shoes in case these get soaked, socks for the same reason, and some granola bars."

  "Oh, I'm glad you brought extra shoes. I forgot to tell you that. I keep some in my trunk. Smart thinking, Doc."

  "Ha! Thanks."

  "It's gonna be about half an hour, so settle in,” I tell him as I drive off.

  "More time for us to talk." He rubs his hands together like he has some sort of mischievous plan.

  "I think we've talked quite a bit already."

  "Not enough."

  "Okay, fine.” I start with a question I’ve been curious about. “How old are you?"

  "How old do I look?" he counters.

  "This is a dangerous question. I could offend you. Umm, my guess would be thirty-one."

  "Interesting." He rubs the side of his face, and I glance over to watch.

  "Am I right?"

  "Wouldn't you like to know?" he teases.

  "You suck."

  "Only on things I like. Moving on, how old are you?"

  "Wait, wait, wait!” I exclaim. “First of all, you can't say stuff like that and then just bypass it like it’s no big deal. Second of all, why on earth would I tell you my age if you didn’t tell me yours?"

  "What did I bypass that you would like to discuss further?"

  "Well, it's not that I want to discuss it further, but the whole sucking on things you like. And then at the restaurant with your little joke about fucking me and then moving on like you didn't just say that."