Nursing Myself Back: (A Tryst of Fate Series Novel - Book 3)

by Kara Liane

I’d draw her a bath, massage her all over and relieve the tension, and I’d take away all her hurts and worries—if she’d let me. I rub at the beard scruff that inevitably grows after not shaving for a day, and I can’t help but ask myself, will she ever give me—give us—a chance?

  ***

  Liezel

  Busy, I have to stay busy.

  So, that’s what I’m going to do. Coming into work today was the best thing. I’m elated when I take care of patients. Being able to focus on improving the lives of others is something that pulls me from the dark pit I’m in because of the years of despair lodged in my heart.

  I can’t stop thinking about Caleb, though. Ever since I saw him at my house last night, my brain won’t get off the constant loop of images flickering through my head. Images mostly of his handsome face—I can’t forget his body in that suit too. Whew, I’m fanning myself internally. That man has my veins singing because I need to—and want to—be near him. My skin tingles at the thought of potentially seeing him again at our next group get-together.

  I run my hands up and down my arms as if I’m cold, but I’m not. I will the goose pimples that have cropped up to go back down where they came from; they give me away so easily. I feel vulnerable and exposed as if the next person I talk to will be able to see right through me and know I’m like a bitch in heat, lusting after one of my boss’s best friends. I’d like to think I’m better than this.

  But don’t I deserve to feel something come to life within me after all these years? Shouldn’t I feel alive? Shouldn’t I feel like a woman?

  I hope I’m not coming off as cold and uncaring. It saddens me to think that others won’t understand where I’m coming from.

  I berated myself long and hard last night about feeling something when my husband has only been dead for six days. I crawled into bed, and well into the wee hours of the morning, I tossed and turned. But before my alarm went off—which I didn’t even need the damn thing for a wakeup call—I came to the miraculous conclusion that my life really isn’t all that different from six days ago.

  That’s why I decided to come into work today. William finally gave me the closure I needed to move on with my life—or that’s at least what I’m telling myself. Today is a day in which I’m skipping all the stages of grief and heading right to “acceptance.” I’m finding peace. I should be thanking him for that, actually.

  I still haven’t decided what I’m doing with his urn yet, but I’ll eventually figure it out. I moved him into my bedroom closet last night because I couldn’t look at it anymore. He was always closed off from us and kept locked up in the dark in his own little world, so my solution seemed fitting.

  What I wrote for his eulogy made me feel somewhat guilty. It was short and not sweet. He died on a Saturday…end of story. Well, it was the morning after Emeline’s first birthday. Alexi was the first person I called after receiving the news. I had to find out from the police. The cops were dispatched to the seedy bar where William frequented. There was no saving him even after the cavalry showed up.

  He apparently went quietly because he slumped over and the bar patrons thought he passed out—it was a few hours before anyone noticed he wasn’t breathing. The medical examiner pronounced him dead at the scene. The initial autopsy and toxicology reports cited a classic case of alcoholism, and there was no foul play suspected. Therefore, we were able to proceed with a funeral.

  The cirrhosis that I already knew existed is what ultimately became his end. He never once got treatment for his liver, and it had finally had enough. He treated that poor organ even worse than he treated me.

  “I should’ve had a funeral for his poor liver,” I mumble to myself. Then I roll my eyes at my absurdity.

  I pick up the patient chart I had set down on the counter in the exam room I had been tidying up and prepping for the next patient. It’s been a slow day for the most part. Alexi had rescheduled most of his patients for next week in the event he needed to be there for me.

  I know I’m a lucky lady to have such a caring, attentive boss and friend. I really need a friend more than anything. However, I don’t like leaning too far on Alexi because—not that Caylan has ever been the jealous type—I don’t want to cause any issues in his marriage. I’ve been on my own for so long that I certainly thrive on it. But admittedly, it would be nice to have someone to prop myself up against and say, “Yes, I’ll take the help you’re offering.”

  I wish there was someone who could do that for me.

  I’m suddenly brought back to that pit of despair, thinking how I never had that with William, and I recall the words at his funeral. It was rather pathetic, because really, what could I say about my husband?

  ***

  “Thank you all for being here,” I say to the small group of friends and relatives gathered at the funeral parlor.

  “William was a husband and father. He was a son and had a best friend who really comforted him in his time of need.” I take a shaky breath as I’m speaking into the mic. I have no idea if anyone realizes my euphemism for “friend” is really referring to his mistress, the bottle. He didn’t have any actual friends.

  I want to use my hair to hide behind because I wore it down, but I know I can’t. I have to do this. I will do this. I will be strong for my wonderful children seated in the front row, staring at me with tears shimmering in their eyes. This is torture! I tuck my hair behind my ears and decide I will show William I’m the strong woman he married and the strong woman he essentially left.

  “We will remember William for the three beautiful, talented, amazing children he left behind. Tyler, Kurt, and Leah are the epitome of grace, faith, strength, and beauty. They are a mountain no one can chip away at. I am in awe of their character and perseverance. William’s passing will not cripple our family, but cause us to bind ourselves together even more tightly.” I finally look up from the yellow notebook paper I scrawled his eulogy onto.

  There’s not much more I can say at this point because my mother always said, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”

  ***

  I come back to the present and decide to put the funeral behind me.

  Some parts of last night are still jumbled for me. But what remains perfectly clear is William definitely belongs in that closet!

  With my chart in hand, I head to Alexi’s office to converse with him about our last patient of the day, who should be arriving in the next hour. I know I don’t have to dry my eyes because there are still no tears. I made sure I put some makeup on today just in case I needed a layer of courage, and Leah twisted my hair into a nice updo with curls cascading down the back. She loves to play with my hair, and I swear that girl could be a hairdresser to the stars one day.

  Leah revealed to me last night that I basically need to start living. It’s easier said than done, but I’ll try. Leah is my light when I’m walking through darkness. She should be a kid, though, and not have to worry so much about me. So, I will have to make the effort and try to live!

  Alexi’s door is shut, so I knock softly. After hearing his invitation to come in, I open the door and freeze in the entrance when those two brown eyes I swoon over are staring me down.

  “Caleb!” Is all I can manage to squeak out.

  Oh shit, twice in two days I get to see him. Thank God my boss is a cardiologist because I think my heart just stopped!

  Chapter 4: Cookies and Cream

  Caleb

  As I’m casually lounging in one of Alexi’s comfortable, plush leather office chairs talking away, someone knocks on the door. Alexi tells whoever it is to enter, and in walks Liz.

  “Caleb,” she says in a shocked tone. But I could swear there’s a hint of breathiness to it.

  My hands, which were resting easily on the arms of the chair, begin to grip the leather tightly at seeing her. She stirs something fierce inside me. I want to beat my chest like a wild man. I want to throw her over my shoulder and run into the nearest exam room to have my wicked wa
y with her. I know I laid eyes on her last night, but it doesn’t matter. I could see her every damn minute of every damn day, and I’d still have the same reaction. She does this to me, and she doesn’t even realize it.

  The scrubs she dons would be pajamas on anyone else, but somehow she makes them look so damn sexy—I don’t know how she does it. I want to lick her collarbone that is peeking out from the V-neck of her top. Her hair, twisted up in an elaborate style, is begging to be taken down and be wrapped around my fingers—the few pieces floating around her face are such a damn tease. Her beautiful mouth is slightly agape, asking me to stick my tongue in so deep that I can taste every part of her. I want to savor every flavor on her body, inside and out.

  Alexi might have to use the defibrillator on my heart because it feels like it’s pounding abnormally. I’ve never reacted so strongly to a woman in my life, and that’s why I know she’s it for me. I want her now more than ever. Every single time I see her, the attraction gets stronger and stronger. It’s ticked up a notch each time, and it’s hard to describe, but I’ll do my damnedest.

  My longing for her becomes fiercer and fiercer. And I know it will not wane even once I finally have her. She will fill a void in me, but the feelings will always be there, as if it’s the first time every time. She’s the woman I was meant to be with, and I feel it in the depths of my soul.

  I lick my lips and deliver a wolfish grin that’s perfect for trying to ensnare my prey. I don’t know what to say yet, but something will come to mind. I want to see if I can make her squirm a minute longer.

  She puts her hand to her throat, breathing heavily, and all that action does is make me want to focus my attention on sucking her beautiful skin. Fuck, she must smell so heavenly. I will need to save her from herself, it seems, since she appears to be so startled by my presence here. I think I’m going to take this as a good sign. The fact that I can make her feel anything other than the grief or guilt I imagine she’d be feeling after yesterday is a definite start.

  “Liz,” I say in greeting, nodding in her direction. I then give her another smile.

  After all, she said my name, so it’s only fair I say hers back. I mentally slap myself at how coy I’m being in this moment. That simply won’t do. I’m taking control of this!

  “Where are my cookies?” I chuckle and wink at her.

  She seems confused at first, as if maybe I’m referring to something else, and then that look of realization hits her.

  “Oh my goodness, how rude of me. I should’ve baked you some too. I had no idea you’d be here. I mean, I know I saw you last night, but I don’t think you mentioned coming here today,” she stammers, then bites her bottom lip as if she’s embarrassed.

  I smile and shake my head, reassuring her, “I’m just teasing you. Although, I’d love to try your cookies some time. Each occasion you make them, either this guy over here eats them before anyone else can have a taste, or they’re scarfed up by everyone else.” I point an accusatory finger Alexi’s way.

  “Hey! I don’t eat all of them!” Alexi complains.

  Liz blushes at my words. I know everyone raves about what a damn good baker she is. I get by all right with making some basic meals for myself, but neither baking, nor cooking, is really something I’ve tried my hand at. The few times I’ve attempted something fancy by following the step-by-step directions per the TV cooking show, it’s turned out like primordial soup. Whipping something up in the kitchen could be fun, though, if it involves her. She’s the only sweet treat I need to taste anyway.

  “Well, maybe you can teach me some time,” I suggest.

  She smiles at my words. “I’d love to. I make a mean sugar cookie. The vanilla flavor and scent just hits you right. I’ve taught the kids how to make them, yet they’re not really fans. It would be nice to teach someone with some enthusiasm about it,” she giggles.

  I love hearing that lyrical sound. You would think this woman would have nothing to smile about or be happy about right now, but that’s Liz. Her heart and personality are infectious. It’s intoxicating being around her. She seems to always be in good spirits, even if the situation calls for the exact opposite.

  “Just say the word, and I’ll be there…even tonight,” I offer in return. I’m hoping a lesson would further help take her mind off things.

  She chews at her bottom lip again and smoothes the front part of her hair back to the nape of her neck, clearly contemplating my words.

  “Erm, I’m going to be pretty busy this evening trying to play plumber. I have to replace the wax seal in the downstairs bathroom, so that should be fun,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  And that’s when lightning strikes and gives me a genius idea. She just opened the door for me to come in all alpha-male, rescue-me, knight-in-shining-armor style. I know she didn’t ask me for help, and even if she can do it on her own, I still want to help. The least I can do is lift the damn toilet up. I may not know much about toilets, but I know the seal is at the base.

  “I’d love to help you if I may. I’m a whiz at changing those things. That is, if you and the kids don’t mind company and my assistance?” I reply, crossing my fingers and toes in the hopes she’ll accept.

  “Wow! I don’t know what to say. I’d love the help. As far as the kids, well, William’s parents are here for another night, so they’re staying at Bill and Anna’s hotel with them to get one more night of family time in. I would’ve had his parents stay with me, but they don’t—well, they never have, actually—liked me. Despite that, I’d never let it ruin any relationship they have with their grandchildren,” she says sadly.

  So many things are buzzing in my head at the moment because of her words. First, Liz is an incredible woman—that goes without saying. She’s always putting her feelings aside or last, for the sake of others, the ultimate giver in every respect. I don’t know how anyone wouldn’t love her.

  There must be some kind of dark history in the family or drama, I imagine, to have caused this apparent rift.

  Secondly, I’m internally panicking because I don’t know the first fucking thing about changing a seal. I admit I’m not a handy guy, but damnit, now I wish I was! I want to be the guy who can help her with this kind of shit. I’ll watch YouTube or something and figure it out. Really, how hard can it be?

  And lastly, but surely the most important notion, is that she’ll be kid-free tonight. I’m a lucky SOB to have managed to score some alone time already. I thought it would take weeks, possibly longer, to have her alone. I’m rubbing my hands together in my mind in a conspiratorial manner. With my plan in place, I will take every opportunity to wear her down until she’s mine.

  I’ve said it before, but I’ll reiterate, I won’t be an asshole about it. Even if on the surface she seems fine, I can still recognize that she needs time to heal from her marriage, and I’m sure the last thing she needs or wants is to jump into something new. Fuck, I don’t even know if she even likes me like that. Now I sound like I’m twelve and passing a note in study hall asking her to circle “yes” or “no” if she’ll be my girlfriend.

  Anyway, I’m going to try damn hard to feel her out tonight so I know where I semi-stand. Knowing what she’s thinking and feeling is important, and her emotions will be the key in all of this. God, I want to be there to catch her if she stumbles along the way. As they say, you must learn to walk before you can run. And even if she runs…I’m just going to have to sprint after her.

  “Well, what time do you want me to come by? I can bring dinner if you’d like,” I propose, delivering my words with one of the best devilish smiles I have in my arsenal.

  “Umm, six o’clock, I guess. I have tons of food left over from all the friends and neighbors dropping stuff to the house over the last week. I think I have enough casseroles to feed an army. I had to put so much stuff in the freezer so it wouldn’t go to waste. Normally I eat salads or stir fries. But, I can certainly pop a casserole in the oven. And if there’s time after fixing the seal, maybe I can let
you in on my cookie baking secrets,” she counters with a wide grin that has my heart racing again.

  “That sounds great! Six it is, then. And Liz…I’ll eat whatever you put in front of me.” I say the last part while staring her down and putting as much heat as I can into what I’m saying.

  I see and hear her very audible intake of breath, watching with rapt attention as her pupils dilate at my words. This reaction does things to me. I want to growl, and I don’t even care that Alexi is only sitting a few feet away from me at his desk.

  She swallows. Seeing her throat work makes me want to put something else in it. I can’t help my overly dirty thoughts no matter how much I want to shove them down and handle her with kid gloves.

  She shakes her head as if to clear it and responds with, “Okay, see you then,” and scurries out the door, shutting it behind her before I can say anything more.

  Alexi once again is laughing. This time I’m not sure at what.

  “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen Liz distracted enough at work that she didn’t even tell me what she came in here for. It’s as if I wasn’t even here,” he says sarcastically.

  Then he continues on, “But you can take that as a positive. That woman is never distracted at work. She never lets her personal life in here. I’d say you have a pretty damn good chance because, man, did you lay it on thick,” he ribs me.

  “I had to do something,” is all I come back with.

  “Dude, do you even know how the fuck to change that wax thing on the toilet?” He questions as his brows lift in suspicion over my alleged lack of knowledge.

  “That’s what YouTube is for,” I quip.

  He’s laughing his ass off again, and that’s my cue to leave. I nod in his direction, indicating my “goodbye,” and take my leave. I know he means well, but sometimes he can be a dick. I roll my eyes as I’m walking down the hall to exit his clinic, thinking, I don’t know how Caylan, or Liz, put up with him on a daily basis.