“Hell no, not even close. It’s all about the detachment. I don’t even call them by their first names. Sessions are fast, in and out.”
I took a slow bite of my food and chewed before asking, “Then, how did you let your guard down like that?”
Nicolas shook his head. “I mean, I didn’t know she was a patient. I ran into her on campus at the beginning of the school year.”
“Yeah? How?”
“She was riding her bike along the path and I was riding to work too, and we collided. I knocked her off. I literally ran into her.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Very smooth.”
“Ha-ha,” Nicolas said dryly. “Anyway, she scraped her knee, so I patched her up. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I went down the same bike path every day hoping I’d spot her again. Then two weeks later, boom, she showed up at the hospital and needed to see someone in my department.”
I was silent as I considered Nicolas’s conundrum. His fingers were now starting to fret at a discarded paper straw wrapper.
“Do you have a picture of this mystery girl? I want to see what she looks like.”
“That’s creepy, Flo, why would I have a picture?” Nicolas was growing exasperated. “When could I take it, anyway?”
I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe you hid in the bushes one day before she got home. Sprung on her, snapped a picture and ran off.” I chuckled to myself. “Don’t tell me you haven’t stalked her online. Come on, show me a picture.”
Nicolas threw me a withering glare. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Laughing at me.”
I grinned and elevated myself onto my toes to pet Nicolas on the head. He pushed my arm away with an annoyed look. I caught myself.
Nicolas was actually irritated and I grew serious. This wasn’t typical.
“Hey, I’m just teasing you, Nic. No need to get upset.”
Nicolas’s face relaxed a touch but his voice remained strained. “I’m not upset, but this isn’t funny, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t have a laugh at my expense.”
My arm hovered in the air between us for a second. Nicolas was deeply distressed, on a level I might never have seen before.
I leaned back slowly and said, “No, I suppose these things never are.” I lowered myself back down in my seat.
“Sorry. It’s just … it’s been bothering me. I’ve been on edge for a while.”
“How come?”
“I’m not supposed to think these things about her, about any patient. And I never had. It’s freaking me out, to be honest.”
“So there’s no chance you can date her?”
“Not while I’m her doctor … I can’t do that kind of shit ever. I’ll get kicked out of my residency if word gets out, if not worse. I don’t even want to think about all the work and money it took to get here. I never thought I’d let a girl derail me from what I’ve been working so long for. It’s crazy. It’s like my logic knows it’s wrong but everything else is telling me to—”
“Screw logic.”
“Yeah. Screw logic.”
I nodded.
Nicolas balled up the straw wrapper and flicked it up to land on an empty plate. “Do you feel this way with Alistair?”
“You mean, right now? No. Definitely not.”
Nicolas didn’t believe me. “Are you lying?”
“I can’t be sure. Maybe. It’s complicated. Sometimes I want to shit on logic and pretend it doesn’t exist, but most of the time I can remind myself why that’s such a bad idea.”
Nicolas grunted in a dissatisfied manner. “Everything is complicated.”
“Welcome to the real world, buddy.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“The point I’m trying to make, Nic, is that sometimes it doesn’t matter what you feel for someone. I’m not saying you love this girl, but you must feel something for this to bother you so much. But love doesn’t always work out. Not everyone gets the happily ever after, not everyone is destined to be together. Sometimes the universe just doesn’t work on our favor.”
Nicolas leaned back in his chair with a loud groan. “That’s really depressing, Flo.”
“Yeah, well, I’m amazing company right now.”
“Is that how you feel about Alistair?”
I grappled with my answer. “I feel that … I need to do my job and forget the rest. That’s what’s important. And perhaps that’s what you need to do as well. We’re both stuck in situations where it’s just not right, logistically or otherwise.”
Nicolas hung his head. “So you think I should forget it?”
“As your big sister, hell yes, forget it. I don’t even want to go into the medical ethics side of things, just think about what you’re jeopardizing—just like you said, all you’ve worked for, all the money and time you spent to get this far. But beyond that, you should do what you think is right. If your gut is telling you no, you should listen to it.”
“And your gut is telling you no about Alistair.”
I stabbed at my forgotten breakfast. “And I’m listening to that gut. Nothing good will come out of being with Alistair, so it’s completely insignificant how I feel about him. We can’t just push something like that. Time will figure out for you if it’s right.”
“Like you and Alistair.”
“We’ve never been right for each other. It’s a freak coincidence I ended up with his story.”
Nicolas arched an eyebrow. “You can’t seriously believe that.”
“That’s the truth I’m sticking to,” I said with finality. If I said it enough, I’d start to believe it. And if I believed it, why couldn’t it be true?
Chapter 15
Monday morning, there was a car waiting for me outside my apartment building.
And to my utter relief, the driver’s seat didn’t hold Alistair Blair.
It held Train.
“Ms. Reynolds!” a voice boomed out across the sidewalk, loud enough to make me drop my purse. I caught it in midair with my foot, right before it struck the pavement.
“Ah, geez, sorry,” Train said as he lumbered over to me, reaching over to grab my bag.
I shrugged him off with a small laugh. “I haven’t lived in the city for a long time, but even I know you don’t yell people’s names like that on the street.”
Train smashed his forehead with a gigantic palm, striking it with enough force to knock down a wall. “I’m too loud, my wife always tells me that.”
“It’s okay.” I adjusted my purse over my shoulder and straightened up. “You’re here to pick me up?”
“Roger that,” Train said with a mock salute. He cocked a thumb towards a new-model silver Audi SUV parked in the loading zone.
“Nice car,” I said with a grin.
“Company car,” Train explained over his shoulder as he ambled over to the rear passenger-side door and opened it.
I smiled and walked towards the proffered chariot. “You’re not a chauffeur, Train, you don’t need to open the door for me.” I threw my bags into the backseat.
Train grunted. “Princesses get doors opened for them.”
“Is that what I am, a princess?” I said sarcastically as I stooped down and lowered my head to duck into the car.
Behind me, Train said, “They all call Boss the prince, so yeah, you his princess.”
I didn’t respond; I pretended not to hear. I denied to myself the way my heart flipped at those words and I scurried quickly onto the smooth leather. Train slammed the door, rounded the car, and settled into the front seat. As he pulled into the moving traffic, I tried to change the subject. I said, “You didn’t have to pick me up. I’ve been taking the subway and it’s been perfectly fine.”
Train grunted. “Boss doesn’t want you taking the subway anymore.”
I scoffed in response. “Tell ‘Boss’ that I’m a big girl and I can take the subway just fine.”
“It’s not about whether or not you can take the subway. It’s about where you end
up going. He’s probably worried you’re going to bail one of these days, stop showing up.”
“I’m on assignment, I can’t just ‘bail.’ That’d be a jerk move on my part.”
Train shrugged, his massive shoulders scrunching up to reach almost to his ears. “Yeah, well …” His voice trailed off.
The traffic going to Midtown was so bad that taking the subway would have been faster. Train turned up the radio to fill the void in the cab. A talkative morning show punctuated with Top 40 hits began pumping through the stereo.
I leaned forward and rested my elbows against the front seats. Train’s head was bopping slightly to the song on the radio.
“So what are your plans today?” I asked.
Train shrugged. “No idea, going to find out when I get to work.”
“So what is it that you usually do at work?”
Train tapped a broad index finger against the top of the steering wheel. He didn’t answer me for a while, as if he was considering how to piece together his narrative. Finally, he said, “Boss didn’t grow up over here.”
“Yeah, I’m aware.”
Train’s expression was contemplative. “I was a bartender at a bar in the Village that he went to a long time ago, back when he first moved to New York. Anyway, we started talking, or mostly he was asking me a bunch of questions about the neighborhood. He was a good tipper and didn’t smell off, so I talked to him, you know? Good thing I did, because he began coming in more. He used to talk to me a lot over whiskey, asking about different areas and different buildings. He needed a native to give him a read on the city, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Well, after he started his company, he asked me to come on. At first I worked with Gertrude to help with his personal stuff, but I’ve never been that great with keeping things organized. That’s my wife’s job.” Train cracked a grin.
“So eventually we picked up for me to go with him to meetings and tour buildings and stuff. I work in negotiations with him, talk to the folk we’re trying to pay out of their leases. Mostly they’re mom-and-pop places, people who have been there for ages, looking to retire on a nice cushion. It’s easier for me to figure out what a tenant wants and what it’ll take to take care of them. Boss pays me too much for what I do. Some weeks all I end up doing is just dicking around in the office, so he just tells me to stay home with my kids.”
Train paused for a moment. He flicked on his blinker and turned into a small alley to cut across a congested block.
“I owe a lot to him. Bought my house, allowed my wife to quit her job to stay at home, we’re saving up for the kids’ education and hell, I just put down a down payment for my mom’s home. Boss is a good man.”
“He’s helped you take care of your family, that’s great.”
“Yeah, well, he tells me I made the company a lot of money and I’m important, which is nice of him to say. But he would have been great at doing negotiations himself. He has a way of talking that gets people to trust him. People know that things will end up alright as long as they’re in his hands. Carla isn’t sure about him. I had him over a couple times for dinner, he’s great with the kids but she thinks he’s weird.”
I chuckled. “Carla is an intuitive woman. Alistair is weird.”
Train chased his original statement with a quick affirmation, as if not wanting to give me any ideas to the contrary. “She’s cool with him, though, she likes him fine.”
“That’s good. That’s good she likes him.”
We drove in silence for a while. The city and the streets, with the people rushing to work and vendors setting up shop, crawled by us. A population of eight million; it was a wonder how one man out of so many would have such an impact on me in just one week. A world of over seven billion souls, and this one ended up striking my own soul, year after year.
* * *
The drive to the office ended up taking twice as much time as the subway. Train and I kept a lively conversation going, so when we pulled into the parking garage, the idea of Alistair and love and the past floated back to its rightful place in the back of my mind. Always there, ever present, scratching questioningly at reality … but ultimately shoved aside for the mundane demands of the day.
“So what’s going on this week?” I asked in the elevator. Train stood with his two massive hands clasped in front, just like a bouncer. He scrunched up his lips and thought for a moment.
“Well, now that the Solomon deal is in the crapper, we can focus on that new tenant moving into a spot a couple blocks over in the Financial District. They requested some of Boss’s time, so he has a meeting set up with them either today or tomorrow. California and the downtown LA deal are on Thursday and Friday. You’re coming, right?”
“Yeah, I’m going.” I weakly pumped a fist in the air. “Yay, California.”
Train escorted me from the elevator to the front of Alistair’s hallway door, where he paused and frowned at the screen of his phone. “No one is answering me on where Boss is. Maybe just go check his office. I don’t see any meetings on his calendar, so maybe he’s just there checking up on e-mails and such.”
“Alright, you going to wait outside?”
“Going to go to my office”—he canted his head to a desk pushed up against the furthest right window—“get some paperwork done, or whatever.” The last syllable was accompanied by a shrug of his shoulders.
I grinned. “Or whatever?”
“Okay, fine, going to work on my fantasy baseball accounts.” Train scratched the back of his neck and grinned sheepishly.
I laughed. “I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”
Train winked at me and opened the door. “Get your sassy ass out of here.”
The door swished closed and I hitched my tote higher up my shoulder as I walked down the now-familiar corridor. I pushed open the heavy wooden door to his office, calling out, “Alistair? You in?”
A chorus of voices very suddenly and very abruptly grew silent. A man coughed uneasily and when I directed my attention towards the noise, what greeted me was more men than I had planned.
I had planned for Alistair. And there was Alistair, in a typical Blair Properties-edition suit, regarding me with a vague smile on his lips, but there were also three other men.
A man with white hair and a goatee, a man I didn’t recognize.
Greg, the tall thin partner from Saturday’s dinner.
And Solomon, the squat fat partner from Saturday’s dinner, the man who when we last met had pretty much called me an ambition-draining succubus whore to my face.
Oh, and Gertrude, leaning up against the opposite wall, a woman who probably called me a whore behind my back.
The men stood up now that I had entered the room. Solomon was definitely less than pleased at my arrival, but didn’t say anything. Alistair gestured for me to join them. I hesitated, fingers tightening against the strap of my bag before I slowly approached their powwow.
“Good morning,” Alistair said, all placidity and benign sunshine.
I immediately grew suspicious.
“Good morning,” I returned cautiously.
Alistair took a step towards me and placed his hand on the small of my back. As if magnets were attached to everyone’s eyeballs and that hand, the gaze of every single person in the room followed the movement of Alistair’s palm just as he pressed it against me.
“Please sit,” Alistair said.
I resisted for a split second, but with the consoling weight pressing against me, I took two steps and sat down gingerly in the only free spot—the seat next to Alistair.
Everyone else, save Gertrude, sat down once I made contact with the leather.
My shoulders went back and my gaze moved from Gertrude to Greg and then to Alistair, who was pressed up close to me, elbows perched on his knees.
“I apologize for interrupting,” I said, since it seemed to be the only thing to say, as if they were waiting for my presence just to hear me say th
ose four words.
“No, no, please, it’s okay,” answered Greg in a rush, waving his hands in front of him. He smiled widely, showing teeth and totally weirding me out.
I nodded, dumbfounded.
There was an expectant current in the air, one that unnerved everyone except Alistair. His shoulders were relaxed and he swept his gaze from side to side, across the three men sitting across from us two. I had no idea what my own verbal prompt was, either. I fingered the strap of my bag, which was still slung over my shoulder.
Finally Solomon grunted, shifting from one side to another. When he spoke, it was directed towards the space just above my left ear. “Ms. Reynolds, I must apologize for my behavior at Saturday’s dinner. It was inappropriate and I cannot justify my words or actions. I did have too much to drink, which aided the impropriety.” His small eyes finally met mine. “Will you accept my a-po-lo-gy?” The word apology took a while to escape past his tongue, the syllables colliding with each other and smacking unwillingly in their journey out.
I was momentarily speechless but recovered enough to say, “Um … I accept. Thank you.” I just barely stopped my voice hitching upwards at the end of my thank-you, a tonal change of confusion and question.
Greg and the white-bearded man simultaneously exhaled at the same time, the deep expelling of a held breath. It wasn’t subtle, and Solomon shot them a nasty glance.
And through it all, Alistair sat easily next to me, no change in body language, no hitch in his breathing one way or another. Instead, he gave Gertrude a small nod.
“Alright.” Gertrude rounded the couches from her perch against the wall. She stood off to my side but faced the crowd of us like a primary school teacher. “Gentlemen, we received your updated proposal, and although we are grateful for the renewed terms and percentages, many of our initial concerns have not been addressed, most notably the current ownership and the legality of its origin.”
Greg spoke up. “We have established communication with the owner’s offices and we can arrange a meeting between all parties within the next month. But we have to commit to a verbal agreement to go ahead with the sale if we are to meet with them, as you can well understand it’s a sensitive buy and there will be other interested parties.”
The Beginning of Always Page 22