by Jen Doyle
“I...” Nate scrubbed his face with his hand. He’d planned to buy a car later this afternoon, yet another thing that probably would have freaked Dorie out. But they needed a way home. So... “Can you arrange for a plane to take us back to Iowa tonight?”
Then he went through his contacts. He’d just text his buddy, Mike, who ran the dealership back home so that there’d be a car waiting for them at the airstrip in Inspiration.
“Not tonight,” Mark said, shaking his head. “You’ve got the trainer tomorrow at eleven, and we’ve got the show in New York tomorrow night.”
Late-night TV. Right. The redemption tour, Mark had told him earlier.
Shaking his head, Nate said, “I promised I’d get Dorie back for work tomorrow morning.”
Out of the corner of his eye he could see her straighten up. “Us?” she asked. “As in, you and me?”
“Of course.” He really hoped that at some point she’d stop being so surprised. “I mean, I like these guys a lot, but I really don’t want to go home with them.”
And now she was gripping the armrests of her chair. “I don’t do planes. Just drop me off at the bus station. I can—”
“No one’s dropping you off at a bus station.” Exasperation warring with amusement, Nate shook his head. He hooked his foot on her chair and pulled it toward him until their knees were touching. “Let me get this straight. You moved halfway across the country from your family and you don’t fly?”
She shrugged completely unconvincingly. “There are trains.”
That made him laugh outright. Oh, fuck, he loved this woman. And he hoped to God she’d start to see that as a good thing. Soon. He took her hand. “Fly with me tonight. Come to the hospital and then we’ll go home.”
She obviously wanted to tell him no; it was written all over her face. But something convinced her to change her mind.
Thank God. Because it was the only thing that got him through the day. The moment he stepped into Marcela’s hospital room he almost lost it. She had the bed on the far side of the room and didn’t turn to them until he cleared his throat. But the second her eyes met his, things he’d buried so deep they’d only been the faintest shadow of a dream came suddenly roaring back.
The car taking flight with thundering power and grace...until it wasn’t.
The heart-stopping realization that they were tumbling through air and space, and there was nothing he could do to control what was about to be a very hard, very abrupt stop against the unforgiving cement wall.
Reaching for Courtney—for the baby he’d just learned wasn’t his—and almost laughing at the thought that...
That that was it. That was what his life had come to, how it would end.
Except it didn’t end. The car rolled itself upright and, for who knows whatever reason, every car coming at them at seventy-five miles an hour managed to stop before slamming into them or each other. Lungs on fire, he’d jumped out of the car, gasping for air and standing there in the middle of the Ike. What felt like an eternity had probably only been a second or two before he’d realized the horrific sound cutting through the confusion, traffic and the swelling of pain in his goddamn knee was a mother screaming for her son. And, yes, wrenching his knee further as he’d twisted himself to get close enough to the kid to at least try to stop some of the bleeding, as he held that same woman’s hand while the metal was pried away from her nearly lifeless boy.
As she herself began to slip away.
He found himself gripping Dorie’s hand as Mrs. Perez closed her eyes and made the sign of the cross before looking up again.
There simply weren’t words. She reached for his hand and then cried in his arms. They’d survived. And somehow, though all of this, Dorie—a woman who, yes, he’d only known for a handful of days but who had already seen deeper into his soul than anyone he’d ever known—was his rock. She grounded him through what ended up being the single most emotional day of his entire life.
And by the end of the afternoon, with her in his lap, his hands over hers on the controls through a rousing game of Madden NFL against Marcela and her son, he realized that it was also the best. His only complaint, in fact, came at the very end of the day when she refused to have sex on the plane.
“If we’re having sex, then who’s going to keep the plane in the air?”
Nate had to laugh. “The pilots? The laws of physics?” At the same time, he nudged his foot forward a little. Let his knee brush hers.
Clutching the armrests of her seat, she glared at him. “Don’t distract me.” But she parted her legs just enough to let him in. God, he just needed to touch her.
The nice thing about a Gulfstream was that the seats were huge, roomy enough even for him. Once they’d been in the air for a good ten minutes, he convinced her she could still hold on to the plane if she was sitting in his lap.
“No sex,” she murmured, relaxing into him as he ran his hand lightly up and down her spine.
Reclining the seat a little bit, he grinned. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Just sitting here like this was heaven. Pure and simple.
She was so quiet for a little while that he thought she’d fallen asleep. Just as he was drifting off himself, she whispered, “I think you saved that boy’s life today. Maybe the mom’s, too.”
Emotion swelled up within him from nowhere, setting fire to his lungs. He’d come to a similar conclusion, but in reverse. Not that he’d ever want to go through that particular wake-up call again, of course. Christ, no. But he hadn’t even realized he’d gone off track—not until the shock of the past few months hit it home. And not until this past week when he’d been happy again. Truly happy.
Realizing what—who—he wanted in his life. Not wanting to waste any more time.
When he could speak without betraying himself, he gruffly said, “Yeah. This was a pretty good day.”
Dorie hugged him tightly. “Not just a good day. The best day ever.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The first morning after having sex for three days straight started out with Dorie’s new favorite thing: more sex. After three more orgasms—bringing her total for the past four days to more than she’d had in her entire life, thank you very much—he’d brought her coffee in bed, kissed her goodbye and headed off on his private plane.
Right.
The freak-out began while she was brushing her teeth and her eyes fell on the bathtub where, less than one week ago she’d been getting all hot and bothered by her imaginary boyfriend, and... Holy shit.
Holy shit.
Had that really happened?
After a few minutes of nearly hyperventilating, she pulled herself together and went about the rest of her morning routine. She was about to shut off the TV on her way out the door when she heard the news anchor say, “Nate’s new girl.” Mouth falling open, she turned up the volume.
“If you were one of the lucky few who captured a glimpse on film—”
She laughed in both horror and relief as a picture with Nate, at the hospital, holding open a door for Alexis was displayed in a little box about the anchorman’s head.
“We hear you might be set for life. Now back to New York.”
It was maybe five minutes before Dorie was able to snap her mouth shut and get on with her day.
The freak-out picked up steam during her ten-minute walk to the library. It had only been the local morning news segment—highly unlikely that it would have made its way east to Boston—but if she had to it wasn’t going to be any fun to explain to her family that, no, she hadn’t been lying, and, yes, she had actually been there, too. She was even in the photo, albeit a blur on the other side of the door as she’d cleaned the spilled coffee off her shirt. Honestly. Thank God no one had gotten a picture of Nate’s actual New Girl in that particular moment.
; The third and final stage of the freak-out came after she got to the library and ran into Mr. Grimes in the front hall. After the slightest of pauses, he’d just smiled and made small talk about the weather while she tried to pretend that he had not seen her between bouts of sex with his nephew. With the exception of that pause, he hadn’t treated her any differently than any other day since she’d met him. But all she could see was her father’s disappointment reflected in his eyes.
Her dad knew how much this job meant to her—he knew how hard she’d worked to put herself through graduate school and how much he’d hated that he couldn’t do it for her. Yes, he liked to tease her about the Iowa thing and, no, he wasn’t at all thrilled that she’d moved so far away. But when the rest of her family was giving her hell about picking up and moving he’d been the one who, in a rare moment of temper, slammed his fist on the table to silence them all. Then he’d turned to her and said, “If this is what you want to do, you do it. No one else gets a say.”
To throw that back in his face because of a fling?
She whirled on her heel, marched straight into her office and picked up her phone. Knocked her head on the desk when she saw it had gone dead since she’d forgotten to charge it on the plane. Plugged it in, waited the eternity it took to finally have enough charge to power on again...and groaned when she saw how many texts and calls were waiting for her, half of which were just strings of exclamation points and questions marks from Tommy, who seriously needed to find a new thing.
She’d closed her eyes, taken a deep breath, and proceeded to send Nate a text because, thank God, he was still on the plane and therefore couldn’t talk on the phone.
Thx for the amazing weekend. I know I said the 13th, but we both know it would be simpler to just leave it at that. See you next time you’re in IA. XOXO DD
There. Then she’d cut off all contact by shutting off her phone.
Within the hour she was dying to turn it back on, although she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see that he’d called—because that meant that she’d need to actively tell him she couldn’t see him again—or that she didn’t want to, which would confirm that it was all just a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing for him and would make her feel miserable.
Although she’d managed to keep it off the rest of the day, and had stayed at work as long as she could stand it, she couldn’t help but turn the TV on to watch his interview once she was in bed. And if it was just the heat of the moment, it appeared that the flame was still on.
He’d been adamant about no press in the hospital, but he’d let the kids from Robbie’s floor take pictures and they’d gone viral. When he was put on the spot about it on live TV, he’d smiled, a glow lighting him up from within. He’d talked a little about Robbie and Marcela, a lot about how wonderful the EMTs and other first responders had been. About everything but him.
Then there’d been a little quiz of Chicago sports trivia that he’d aced, of course. The final question, though, was the one that had Dorie’s heart racing: So, is ‘Nate’s new girl’ a Sox, Cubs or Watchmen fan?
Nate had given that laugh that rumbled up from inside him, the one that made Dorie want to lay herself out in front of him and purr. “She’s a Sox fan. No question.”
With a huff, she fell back against her pillow. Then she picked up her phone and powered it up to see that the number of texts was now in the triple digits, seven of which were from him. There were a few pictures from New York of the ‘wish you were here’ variety, and one that, well, kind of made her think she maybe needed to get back into her bathtub with all those frisky jets.
Um, no. She drew on her superlibrarian powers and wrote, Did you get my text this morning?
Wow, he replied right away. I figured it would take you at least 10 mins before you yelled at me.
That was his response? That is not me yelling. THIS IS ME YELLING.
And...? he texted back. Nothing else?
I don’t think there’s anything else to say, she responded.
Ah, so we’re going nonverbal? Works for me. I like it when you moan.
And now she understood a little bit more of Tommy’s brain, because all she wanted to do was type “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” for days.
Before she could come up with something better, he wrote, FYI-I HAVE TIL 2/13 (just saying) Night, D.
Damn him. She threw the phone down and tried to get some sleep.
She failed miserably, so by the next day she was practically dead on her feet. Or, rather, on her knees, since she was down on the floor looking at pictures.
“Lucinda, dear, is this what you mean?”
Dorie looked down to see the photograph Mrs. Grimes was holding and shook her head. “Not the same ones that everyone’s already seen.” She shuffled through the pile—past all the ones of the Iowa Dream, although that was as much self-preservation as making her point—to one of the high school boys’ basketball team from a few years back, just as the winning basket had been sunk. “Let’s use this one instead.”
The idea had come to her in the middle of the night. She’d already decided to use some of the seed money for a huge leather chair—that plus a nice throw rug and a lamp would help her transform the corner of the reading room into a cozy nook reminiscent of the one in the library back at home. But she kept coming back to those life-size photographs that had lined the halls of Mark’s office. Trying not to dwell only on the Vanity Fair picture of Nate, she’d begun to see herself as a little girl, sitting in that chair in the library with all of those hopes and dreams.
She wanted to recreate that feeling here, with the life-size photos to serve as inspiration. Except rather than blow up the iconic Dream pictures, she wanted to find photos that captured the amazing moments of everyday life.
“How about this?” Mrs. Grimes asked, pointing to one of a teenage girl in jeans and a flannel lumberjack shirt, her arms crossed in front of her chest and her head thrown back in sheer exhilaration as she spun on the ice.
“Exactly,” Dorie replied.
By the end of the afternoon, they’d settled on a few more: a picture of three big, burly firefighters, proud smiles on their faces as they held out their prize-winning pies. Really—firemen plus pies? That was a no-brainer.
There was one of an older couple sitting on their porch at sunset, his arm around her shoulders as she leaned against him, and Dorie’s personal favorite: a young girl, seven or eight, stepping up to home plate with a bat that had to be bigger than she was. But she was wearing a Hawkins jersey—also way too big for her but so damn cute that Dorie decided it superseded any cliché—and the determined look on her face made it clear that nothing would get in her way.
After Mr. and Mrs. Grimes left for home, Dorie stayed to arrange a second tier for Mrs. Grimes to choose from when she heard, “There you are!”
Dorie turned to see Fitz standing in the doorway to the reading room. “I...Yes.” She smiled uncertainly as she got to her feet, not sure how to react to the obvious concern on Fitz’s face. “Is everything okay?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you.” Coming into the room, Fitz glanced at the photographs on the floor, then back up at Dorie. “I’ve been texting you. For days.”
“Oh.” Dorie reached into her pocket and closed her hand around her phone, even though it was still off. “I’ve been on a bit of a phone fast.”
Fitz stared at her for a few moments. “Any particular reason?”
“Um, home stuff.”
Did Fitz know Dorie had spent the weekend with Nate and was now in major avoidance mode? From what Dorie could tell, there weren’t any pictures of her and Nate out there—just a few more of him and Alexis. Maybe Fitz was just trying to figure it out.
Fitz edged her way around the room. “Did you happen to watch TV last night?”
“I did, actually.” Honestly? It was all still
a little surreal.
“Nate seems like he’s getting back to his old self,” Fitz said.
If by that Fitz meant that Nate seemed happy, well then, yes. Because he was still a bit delusional about them seeing each other again. But he was a big boy; he’d get over it.
She forced her reply to Fitz. “That’s good.”
“But you’re okay,” Fitz said flatly.
Dorie bit her lip and nodded. “I am.”
Before she could say anything else, the door chimes did their chiming thing and, ten seconds later, Wash strode into the room. He stopped short when he saw Fitz. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hi, yourself,” Fitz said, frowning. “What are you doing here?”
Also frowning, Wash answered, “Same thing you are, I’d guess.” He turned to Dorie. “Just checking in to see how things are going.”
For heaven’s sake. What was this, a pity party?
Oh. Oh, God. Dorie closed her eyes and forced herself not to feel flustered. Not to be flustered. Because that’s exactly what this was. They didn’t realize “Nate’s new girl” had been her. They thought she’d locked herself away after fleeing trivia night because he’d realized she knew who he was. And that made things all the more infuriating.
They were his friends—who he obviously hadn’t spoken a word to about the fact that he’d been with her. Except it was a temporary thing, so to explain it now would make no sense.
“I am so totally fine,” she said with maybe a little too much enthusiasm. They both looked at her strangely. Now what was she supposed to do? She liked them—and she was touched that they’d cared enough to seek her out. She didn’t want it to be awkward for them, though, especially when Nate was their actual friend.
“Well, good then,” Fitz stated.
With a look at Dorie and then at Fitz, Wash nodded. “Sure. Good.”
They all just stood there looking at each other. Not awkward at all... “So, um...” Dorie looked down at the floor—she really should be working. There was so much to do. But then her eyes fell on the pictures they’d chosen earlier, all those people smiling and living out their dreams. And she realized, this was part of why she’d come here. She’d opened the door, but Fitz and Wash were the ones inviting her in.