It’s one of the few times a man actually lets you feel his weight, and even then, it’s not all of it—otherwise, he’d crush you. But for a little while, for a little bit, you feel his heaviness.
Most men don’t share their weight, their heaviness, the things they carry. Only during sex will they let you feel the weight of their bodies, but not the load that’s really on their shoulders, in their hearts. Why?
Why can you pound into us with every ounce of your body, but not share one ounce of your soul? Don’t you know releasing some of that weight to us would bring us a whole different kind of pleasure? An emotional orgasm, if you will—that feeling of complete love and connection to another person.
Why can you give us multiple physical orgasms, but are impotent in the emotional orgasms department?
Do they make a pill for that?
CHAPTER TEN
HOLT
Everything in the universe does not revolve around women. Just because I’ve got a past doesn’t mean it’s only about another woman. And I know that’s what Annalyse thought, no matter what I said.
And then she bolted, and like a complete idiot, I stood there mute. I’m sure I’ll have to take the blame for the whole mess, even though she’s the one that left. But it doesn’t matter who did what. At this point, all that matters is she’s gone.
And the truth of the matter is, my life does revolve mostly around women—at work, and Annalyse. When did women get so complicated? It wasn’t always this way. High school, college, it was a whole hell of a lot easier. Yeah, I had my heart broken. Yeah, I broke a few hearts, but it was always pretty cut and dry.
Even in the torture and hell of residency and medical school, I managed to keep my relationships simple. If you are honest and don’t lie to women, things with the opposite sex just tend to work out better. Still, it’s not so easy to open up anymore.
My old residency buddies, Jason and Brent, didn’t always keep the same code I did. Brent would do anything to get laid—tell a girl he loved her, make promises he didn’t intend to keep, lie. Jason and I were more straightforward. I’m not saying I never had a one-night stand; I have. Though not in a long time. I was just the type that liked something more regular. While I was in school, though, I couldn’t have the girl being all clingy and wanting to have babies and get married, either.
But it didn’t matter. Women and those guys were probably the only thing that kept me sane through medical school and residency. While we all had different fields of study, we all ended up staying at Duke for residency: Brent for pediatrics, Jason for anesthesia. We each had a reputation in school for leading the pack with our performances in and out of the classroom, so naturally we became the best of friends.
There was friendly competition in school, but never for women. School and women were the center of our universe. Not once did we ever let a woman get between us. And that didn’t change until Celeste showed up our third year in residency.
We all knew who she was before we ever laid eyes on her. It’s not often you meet someone who scored a perfect forty-five on her MCAT, who looked like a perfect ten model, got into all the top medical schools, whose parents were Duke legends, and who said “fuck it” to all of it and became a maternity nurse. She was a rebel, and she was having none of our shit.
Even though she was a few years younger, she had our number before she ever laid eyes on us. Guess our reputation with the nurses preceded us. It didn’t matter. She and Brent fell in love on the spot. Brent took one look at her, and he was completely gone. Gone in that way that Jason and I both thought our band of brothers was breaking up.
We hadn’t seen much of Brent in weeks. I swear the two of them barely came up for air. While Celeste worked on my floor of the hospital, I really didn’t know her very well, which is why I was surprised when she stopped me at the hospital one day, just a few weeks after her and Brent got together.
“Hey, Holt,” she said, catching me in the hallway. “I mean, Dr. Miller.”
“It’s okay. You can call me by my first name.”
She smiled. “I don’t think I should. At least not here at the hospital.”
“Did you need something?”
“Brent said you guys used to go out every Thursday night to some bar.” Surely he didn’t tell her everything about those Thursday nights. “Something about wearing your scrubs and using that to pick up women.” She smiled and cocked an eyebrow. Yep, guess he told her everything. Must be true love.
“Something like that,” I said, chuckling.
“Would it cramp your style if I tag along?” she asked. “Brent misses hanging out with you guys. Maybe make it a foursome?” Her face immediately turned bright red. “I didn’t . . . I mean . . .”
I busted out laughing. She must have really loved Brent, wanting to make sure he didn’t lose his friends just because they were in a relationship. She definitely wasn’t the crazy, overly-attached girlfriend type, which wouldn’t work with any of us. “I know what you meant,” I said. “Tonight would be . . .” My phone vibrated in my lab coat pocket, the number belonging to one of my younger twin brothers. They knew better than to call me during the middle of work hours. I thought about not answering, but something inside me knew that something was wrong.
I held up a finger to Celeste then answered to Eli’s frantic voice. I listened to him, the words coming out like vomit, fast and hard and full of agony. And I’m not sure what my face looked like, but it was enough for Celeste to take my hand, leading me into an empty dictation room then leaving me alone for privacy.
I spent the next fifteen minutes listening to Eli and my other brother Ethan telling me that our mom’s cancer was back, this time in her ovaries—stage four. And I knew exactly what that meant—less than a twenty percent survival rate. I was more than likely going to lose my mother, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. No amount of studying, late nights, or good grades was going to save her, and that fucking hurt.
My mom was the reason I went into OBGYN medicine. I’m sure a shrink would say that, deep down in my subconscious somewhere, I was hoping to save her. Hell, he’d probably be right. I’d watched her suffer through cancer while I was in high school, lose both breasts, endure chemotherapy. Cancer is a bitch, but the treatments aren’t much better. There has to be a better way.
The door to the dictation room opened, and Celeste walked in carrying a cup of coffee. One would think all med students and residents drink coffee to withstand the long hours, but I never did. Still, it was sweet, and I took it from her.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.
I’m not sure why I did it, but I said, “My mom is dying.”
She quickly hugged me. That was one thing I learned about her real quick. Celeste was a hugger. She hugged you when you made her laugh, when she was happy or sad. She just was that type of person—sweet.
“My mom is all about her boys—my dad, me, and my brothers. I’m the only one not there. I should be there for her.”
“I bet she wants you right where you are. I bet she wouldn’t want you fussing over her.”
I smiled. She’s right. My mom would hate that.
“Let me call Brent and Jason,” she said.
I shook my head. “I’m alright.”
But when I showed up to the bar that night, I knew she’d told them. I didn’t mind. It wasn’t a big secret, but as guys, we just didn’t really get into anything too deep or emotional. Besides, Brent just looked too damn happy with Celeste, and I couldn’t put a damper on that.
“So how does this work?” Celeste asked. “Do the women just see your scrubs and fall on the floor with their legs spread?”
“Pretty much,” Jason said with a chuckle, so full of himself.
But he was right. We guys developed a technique for picking up women. Walk into a bar wearing scrubs, and boom, pussy guaranteed. “To my right at the bar. See that girl with the red dress?” Jason asked, and Celeste nodded, being very discrete. “I’m
going to walk to the hallway leading to the bathroom. She’ll follow me.”
“No way!” Celeste said, seemingly intrigued.
Brent and I both gave her nods. We knew a horny woman when we saw one. “Twenty bucks,” Jason said.
“You’re on,” Celeste said.
It really was too easy. Jason flashed a smile, downed his drink, then walked towards the hallway. Less than a minute later, little Miss Red Dress was headed that way. “Damn,” Celeste said, throwing a twenty down on the table. I reached for the bill to hand it back to her, but she shoved my hand away. “I don’t welch.”
“Works every time,” Brent said, turning his baseball cap around in rally cap formation.
She narrowed her eyes at him, ripping the cap off his head. “Your lucky hat, huh?”
Brent wore that damn hat to every exam. We used to tease him that he had the answers written on the bill. Obviously, Celeste thought he was getting “lucky” in other ways, too. Still, it was funny to see my player friend fall into line. Guess the right woman can do that to a guy.
Celeste turned to me. “So you just waiting for the hallway to be free?”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “Holt’s saving himself for the right woman,” Brent teased.
Some players can’t be scared straight. Others can only be scared straight by a brush with pregnancy or an STD. Others, like Brent, find a better reason. And ultimately, that’s what I wanted, too. I just had to make it through this last year, and everything with my mom. Now was not the time to fall in love, despite how happy Brent and Celeste looked.
Celeste patted my arm. “Well, we’ll just have to find you the right woman then.”
“Don’t let his innocent act fool you, honey,” Brent said. “Holt’s had his share . . .”
She waved him off. “What about Nina from . . .”
“Jason fucked her last month,” Brent said. “We don’t ever get with the same women. It’s our rule.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, there’s that cute girl that works on the third floor. What’s her name?”
“Amy,” I said.
“Yeah, what about her?”
“She’s off the table, too,” I said, trying not to give away that Brent hooked up with her last year.
“Tina who works in the accounting department.” I just shook my head. “Are there any women under the age of fifty that the three of you haven’t screwed?” she asked.
Right about then, Jason came sauntering back, grabbing his money off the table, and leaning back in his chair, a cocky smile on his face. Fucking bastard. There’s nothing better than having that look, having been satisfied. That’s not true. I was old enough to know that the look on Celeste and Brent’s faces were better.
“So?” Celeste asked.
He cocked his head. “Turned that pussy out!”
“Better slow down,” she said, playfully smacking him. “Or you won’t reach your sexual equinox until you’re an AARP member.”
She had to be the coolest woman on the planet. How else can you explain her knowing one’s sexual equinox is when your age matches the number of people you’ve slept with?
Then she looked over at Brent, shaking her head. “I don’t even want to know. You’re very lucky I don’t slice your balls off in your sleep.”
We all busted out laughing, and just like that, Celeste became one of us, one of my best friends.
I’m sharing this because no matter what Annalyse said, I know how to be friends with a woman, and I know how to fuck a woman. But maybe she was right? It’s being both that I’m having the problem with.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ANNALYSE
I’m a writer. I’m supposed to be able to write my emotions, describe them in vivid detail. But the only thing I can come up with is “Ugh.” It seems to encompass the right amount of frustration, anger, and hurt I feel about what happened with Holt a couple nights ago. And I can’t shake the feeling. Usually when I start to feel bad, I know it’s time to jump ship, move on, find another assignment, stay one step ahead of the damn feelings. I won’t do that now. I refuse to, and my body is suffering for it.
Everything seems to ache, my body, my chest, my heart, my head. And each minute I don’t hear from him, my symptoms get worse. I thought for sure he’d call me by now or at the very least send me a fucking email or text. But nothing, nada, zilch. Not even one stinking emoji, not that he’s the emoji type. I can’t imagine Holt sending me a little wink. His “winkie” is much too big for that.
And let me just state for the record that grown men should not be using emojis. It’s not cute; it’s not sexy. I know men tend to suck at communicating, so using them might be tempting. Please, I beg you. Do not do it. But right now, I’d welcome a little happy face from Holt. Maybe I should send him the dreaded poop emoji?
So no calls, no texts, and I haven’t seen him, either. He hasn’t come out on his patio or hung out with any of the neighbors—which is what I’m doing today.
Judy, Carla, Rachel, and her boys insisted I come to the farmers’ market downtown with them. Apparently, they go every week. I think it’s just an excuse for Judy and Carla to love on the babies. We’ve been walking around for an hour, and they’ve each been carrying a baby boy and haven’t looked at one piece of fruit. Rachel, however, hasn’t stopped eating all the samples.
“Saw Holt yesterday,” Rachel says. “He looked like crap. You two fighting?”
“Where’d you see him?” I ask.
“His office,” Rachel says.
“You feeling better? I was there when you called last weekend.”
“What’s wrong?” Carla asks Rachel. “You sick?”
“No, I’m fine,” Rachel says. “I thought I might have a clogged milk duct or something, but I’m good. Nic didn’t want to nurse, and my breasts were sore, so I just assumed something was wrong.”
“But you’re alright?” Judy asks.
Suddenly, tears start flowing down Rachel’s cheeks. We quickly circle around her—because that’s what women do. We rally. I reach into my purse and hand her a tissue. “I’m fine,” she says. “It’s just that, I’m pregnant again! Holt says my milk is drying up and probably tasted different, that’s why Nic won’t nurse.” She’s sobbing in-between her words. “I can’t do this. I’ll have three babies two and under!”
“What’s Chad say?” Carla asks.
“Oh, you know. He’s so happy. Says it’s got to be a girl this time. Thinks he’s some stud. I swear, I’m never having sex again!”
“That’s why I have sex with a woman,” Judy says, her lips in a tight line.
We hug Rachel tightly, promising to help her whenever we can, telling her what a great mom she is, and how lucky her children are to have her. She wipes her face and takes a deep breath, saying, “Holt wants me to rest. He says I’m pushing the limits with my body. Gave me a lecture that it takes two years for a woman’s body to recover from one pregnancy.”
“He likes to follow rules,” I say, sniffling myself. Think I’ve developed an allergy to men. “But you know you’re in good hands with him.”
“I love him. He told Chad to hire me a housekeeper, that I need to take it easy. Now that’s a good OBGYN.”
“Annalyse?” I hear my name being called and search for where it’s coming from. I’d know that voice anywhere. He sounds just like his brother. “Annalyse?” His arm waves me down as he takes off his motorcycle helmet.
“Give me a second,” I say, almost running towards him. “Grant!” He gets off his bike just in time to catch me, hugging me tightly. It’s almost like being hugged by Logan again.
“I thought that was you,” he says, releasing me. “I was riding by, and just happened to glance over. I didn’t know you were back in town.”
“I’m sorry about that, Grant. I just . . .”
He waves me off. “I understand. How are you?”
His voice sounds so much like his brother’s. If my eyes were closed, I’d swear Logan was s
tanding in front of me. But they don’t look anything alike, thank God. I don’t think I could handle that. We catch up on what’s been going on, and I tell him that I’m in town for a while housesitting for Meg.
“You still got Logan’s old Harley?” Grant asks.
“Took it out the other day.”
“Still can’t believe he let you ride her. He never even let me take her for a spin.”
“Why don’t you come by? I’ll let you ride her,” I say.
His eyes actually fill up. I know how much riding meant to him and Logan. “I would like to see that badass bike again.”
“Anytime.”
“Annalyse?” Judy calls out. “Rachel really needs to get the boys home.”
I turn back to Grant. “Guess I need to get going. I’m going to be home the rest of the day, if you want to see the bike.”
“I have a better idea,” he says. “Hop on.”
The only man I ever rode with was Logan. Riding with his brother would almost be like riding with him again, and I can’t say no. Besides, I’m not feeling the greatest, and getting home quick to a warm bed and pajamas sounds like the perfect way to spend the rest of the day. “Just let me tell my friends.”
*
Are you supposed to starve a fever and feed a cold? Or vice versa? Who the hell cares? I feel like complete crap. I miss Holt having my breakfast waiting on the nightstand. I don’t have the energy to get to the kitchen myself. Besides, my need to pee is greater than any hunger or thirst.
I make it halfway to the bathroom before slinking to my knees and crawling the rest of the way. My hair is drenched with sweat, and the room is spinning. Forget peeing, I’m just going to lay on the cold tile floor of the bathroom. It’s the only thing that feels even a little good. My whole body aches. I’ve got no idea what time it is. I crashed after Grant left yesterday.
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