"How was dinner?" I ask, and he nods. "It was okay. I was there, and the twins were with me, and Janet, too. Rick came in, and Janet and the twins were in the kitchen; I guess we kind of set him up."
"Sting," he whispers, smiling.
"Yeah," I say, softly, smiling back. "It was a sting. He came in and he thought we were alone, so he was his typical vile self, but Janet and Renee and Chelsea heard him, and they came barging in to back me up and stop him."
He nods crookedly, as if to approve of my family for supporting me so well, and I lean forward to kiss his forehead. "Rest," I whisper, but he shakes his head.
"After. Tell me," he whispers back.
"Well there isn't anything else to tell," I say. "We all had our say, and then we went outside, the girls and Janet and I, and we had dinner. When we went back into the house, he was gone."
He turns his head to the wall, frowning, and I lean forward, taking his face in my hands. Afraid that my touch will hurt him, I wait until he understands what I want and turns back to face me. "And now?" he asks.
"It's done, for me," I answer. "I've stood up for myself, and I've exposed his behavior to the entire family, such as it is. I've done my part. I'd like to think he'll turn it around, and that he'll fix things, and that he and I can be friends again. But if not, I know that I've done all that I can do."
Hope comes alive in his eyes, and he touches a palm to my face. "And us?"
"Well if you still want this, we're us again," I whisper. He pulls me forward and kisses me tenderly, gently.
"That's good," he whispers, and by the time I've settled in my seat again, he's asleep.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
It's been three days since my confrontation with Rick, three days since Drew was shot, and in the time it took me to almost lose the man that I love, I have gained an entirely new family. It still shocks me, walking into Dr. Caswell's office for my appointment, and I know that it will be a great part of today's focus.
I spend a brief moment in the lobby with Ms. Caswell, and then she laughs when I tell her, "Well I guess I have to go talk to your son, now, or he'll think we're leaving him out."
"Can't be doing that," she giggles, as I turn the knob to go into his little office room.
"Hey, you," he greets me as I walk in. "You look happy today."
"Thanks, I think I finally am," I laugh. "But as usual, I have a ton to tell you. And I know I say this every week, but you are just really not going to believe this. For real this time."
Throwing back his head, he laughs with abandon, his dimples deepening in his cheeks, his eyes closed. I get a glimpse again of how handsome he is, and I hope that someday he is given what Drew and I seem to have found.
"Alright then, you'd better start talking," he says when he's managed to get his laughter under control. He presses the button on his recorder, places it on the coffee table, and drops into his chair.
"Well, the dinner with Rick was awesome! I really can't thank you enough for encouraging me; I'm not sure I'd have done it without your encouragement. I'm still not sure how it's going to end up, because Rick kind of took off, but I think he was just trying to process everything."
"And how do you feel about all of that?" he asks, leaning forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I feel great," I laugh. "I said everything that I've needed to say all these years, and I've finally been able to show him for what he is to our family, which is nice. I think they all just sort of thought I was being a baby about it all this time, but when they heard him the other night, the way he spoke to me, they were just really shocked. It was good for all of us, I think. Maybe even for Rick, in the end of it, to see the results of his behaviors."
"Maybe," he says, nodding. He leans back again to cross his arms, and he looks tired; I wonder briefly if he's alright, but I know I'm not supposed to ask, so I don't.
"And," I say instead. "Drew and I have sort of made amends. We're in the process of figuring everything out between us, trying to move forward."
"How exactly did that happen?" he asks.
"Well, he got shot, and then --"
"What!" Dr. Caswell has shot forward in his chair, and I remember that Drew used to be a patient here. Of course he's worried. Holding a hand out, I reassure him quickly.
"No, no. Mac, uh, Dr. Caswell, he's okay. He had a rough spot, and he's had some surgery to fix the lung, but he's okay now. He's okay."
"I see," he says, visibly forcing himself to lean back in the chair. He heaves a sigh to calm himself, running his fingers through his hair. "Go on," he says.
"It was something to do with work," I tell him, because I can see his effort to regain control. "I don't know the entire story, and since it's a work thing, I doubt I'll ever know everything that happened. He was hit twice in the lung and once in the arm, and he was skimmed here," I say, touching the side of my throat, where Drew had been bandaged.
Dr. Caswell's eyes widen, just as I realize that when I touch there, I can feel the pulse in my neck. Nausea rises up in me like a tidal wave, and I clutch my stomach, fighting the desire to scream.
I really did almost lose him, I really did almost lose him, oh God, he was almost killed, we almost lost everything...
"Cass?" Dr. Caswell's hand is on my shoulder, his concerned eyes staring into mine. I don't know how long I was sitting there, eyes closed in a wave of grief, but he's had time to stand and move around the coffee table. Now he's sitting directly on the table in front of me.
"I'm okay," I whisper. "I just realized what I was saying, right then, when I said it. He's been glossing over the whole thing ever since it happened, and making it seem like nothing, and that scrape on his throat ... and you know, I just have this feeling that it's all my fault."
"Your fault? Cass, how could any of this be your fault?" he asks, turning to reach for a box of tissues. He hands one to me, and waits as I take a breath and gather myself.
"I don't know; I just keep thinking that it is. He knew about the dinner, you know? From where we'd talked on the phone a few days before, and I'd told him I'd like us to try again. I'd told him I wanted to wait to start anything up though, until after the dinner. And I keep thinking maybe he was distracted that night or something, because he was worrying about the situation with me. Like maybe he was wondering how it was going, because he'd asked to come, and I'd told him no, that I had to figure it out on my own. You know?"
"You can't live your life like that, Cass. Has anyone else said anything? Does he seem to blame you? Or any of his family?"
"No," I say, leaning back and drawing my favorite throw pillow into my lap. "They've all been wonderful. His little sister Harmony is the one who called me to tell me what had happened, and she kept saying that he was asking for me, that he would want me there. So I went, and she walked me up that first night. I've already met his older brother Michael. I met his parents, too, that first night at the hospital. And yesterday I met the oldest, his sister Cameron, and his little teenaged brother, Evan."
"How do they act around you?" he asks, scooting back but staying close, still sitting on the coffee table.
"They're wonderful," I answer, still shocked by the truth of the statement. "They're like anyone else; they have their issues, but they're a family, and you can literally see how much they all love each other. They've taken me right in."
"And how is that for you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Honestly, it's odd," I answer, and he laughs. "I just have no idea why you keep honestly expecting everyone to automatically despise you."
"That's exactly what Cameron said," I laugh. "And I don't know why I do that. Will I ever stop?"
"I think so," he answers. "When your confidence has healed, and grown, and when you can look inside yourself to see something of value."
"I think I'm getting there," I say. "I'm not so mean anymore. In my head, I mean."
"That's a great thing," he says, taking the pillow from my hands. "You have got to st
op hiding behind these."
I sigh, hanging my head in mock contrition. Cameron said that, too, yesterday. Observant, that one. And as I look at Dr. Caswell, an idea slowly begins to take form.
Have I got a girl for you.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
"Hey, guys, thanks again for coming to keep me company," I say quietly, leaning over the table to be heard.
"You're welcome Cass; we're glad we could come. How's he been doing?" Renee asks, sitting across from me with Chelsea. They've driven up together to have lunch with me at the hospital, as most of Drew's family has work stuff to attend to today. His family and I have all been taking turns keeping Drew company in the hospital, but he's having some tests done today, so I'm in the cafeteria restaurant with my sisters.
"He's a lot better already, which is a great sign. The scrape on his throat is almost healed completely, and the incisions on his chest look good, so --"
"Yeah, I bet they do," Chelsea winks.
"Chelsea!" Renee and I exclaim together, which sends Chelsea into a fit of giggles.
"Anyway, I think they're probably going to release him soon, so that will be good, but he won't be back on duty for a while yet. I think his captain is going to send him back to therapy too, since he came so close to disaster. I still don't know the whole story of what happened, though."
"I bet the curiosity kills, huh?" Chelsea asks.
"Not really," I tell her. "I mean, I'm curious, but I don't need to know all the gory details. The whole cop thing scares me enough with just the little he's told me, so I'm pretty sure I don't want to know more, you know?"
"I think sometimes that's just how you have to look at it," Renee says, nodding as she forks a bite of salad. "It can be better sometimes, to not know everything."
"But he's doing okay?" Chelsea asks.
"Yeah, like I said, they'll be releasing him soon. He's thinking of staying with his parents while he heals up though, because the arm wound is still really stiff and grouchy, and he has to keep an eye on all the incisions, so --"
"You've got to be kidding me, Cass," Chelsea groans.
"What?" I know what she's thinking, so I feign confusion while I neatly slice my sandwich in half.
"You have an injured cop boyfriend, who's totally in love with you, and you're going to let him camp at his parents' house to recuperate?" She lifts a pickle from her plate, holding it over the table and wagging it at me for emphasis. "If he were my injured cop boyfriend, you could bet your last dollar he'd be sleeping at my house. You know, so I could, um, keep him entertained. And, uh, check on him and stuff." She winks naughtily at me, biting the tip off the pickle.
"Should I offer to have him stay with me? I hadn't thought of it, but I don't think he'd ask, even if he did want to," I laugh.
"Uh, yeah! Ask him!" she laughs, flicking a breadcrumb at me.
"I think you should," Renee says. "Not counting the little break-up thing, you guys have been going strong for a while now, so I think you can kind of pick up where you left off, you know? Besides, I'd say most men would rather have their woman play nurse than their mom," she laughs.
"Yeah, I doubt he wants his mom giving him sponge baths," Chelsea says, nudging Renee with her elbow.
"You guys! He doesn't need sponge baths," I whisper furiously. Still, I can't say I'm repulsed by the idea of Drew, walking fresh out of my shower in a towel. I'm not really disgusted with the idea of helping him get t-shirts on and off, either. "Okay, maybe I'll invite him. Satisfied?"
Knowing that this is the best they're likely to get from me, Renee nods and changes the subject. "Have you heard anything from mom about Rick?" she asks.
"I have," Chelsea says, when I shake my head. "He came to the house the other day."
"Our house?" Renee asks, turning a surprised face to her twin.
"Yeah, he just sort of dropped by to talk."
"Wow, what did he say?" I ask. I'm extra curious because I've talked to Janet, and she hasn't seen or heard from Rick even though they live next door to each other. If he sought Chelsea out on purpose, he must have been feeling some remorse over the whole family issue.
"He wanted to apologize to me, and get a feel for how everyone else was dealing with everything. He asked me about mom, and Renee. And you," she says, pointing to me with a spoon full of carrot cake.
"Me? Why?"
"I don't know," Chelsea says. "He didn't really explain where he's at, emotionally, you know? He just wanted to know where he stands, I think."
"What did you tell him?" Renee asks, reaching for her water bottle.
"I told him I didn't really know where everyone stands, but that I think he can turn things around, if that's what he wants to do. I kind of reinforced that he's been wrong to you all this time, and that whether it was guy pride or just the rejection thing, he really had no reason to attack you like he has, you know? But I also told him that we're not all closed off completely."
"And what did he say to all that?" I ask. I'm curious now, because I've had that same conversation with Rick, occasionally. He's always been closed off to me, though, vulgar and insulting. I think I'd sort of given up on him, but maybe he could be open to hearing from Chelsea.
"He said, 'Yeah I know.'"
"Wow," Renee breathes. "And then what?" She scoots forward a little in the booth, stealing a carrot from my plate and sticking her tongue out at me.
"That was really the basic conversation, you know. He asked how everyone was doing. I told him about you being stuck here, Cass, with Drew being hurt."
"And did he laugh hysterically because I'm so huge that I broke my boyfriend?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"No, he actually asked me to tell you he's sorry you almost lost Drew, and that once things cool down a little, he'd like to see you."
Renee and I exchange a glance, both of us showing the other wide eyes full of surprise.
"And what does he intend to say at that point?" Renee asks.
"He didn't say," Chelsea answers, turning as she catches me looking over her shoulder. "Is that your guy?" she asks.
"Yep," I whisper.
"Hubba hubba," Renee laughs, and then he's walking toward us, so the twins settle down and prepare to be polite.
Slipping into the booth beside me, he slowly readjusts his tee shirt over the incisions on his chest. "You girls mind if I join?"
"Not at all," Chelsea murmurs, sticking her hand out over the table. "I'm Chelsea."
Renee introduces herself, too, and I sit quietly as they all get to know each other, reveling in the easy way they seem to get along. Watching him smile at my sisters, and welcome them into his life, I know that I've got a really good guy, one who will be a seamless fit into my world, who will accept those that I love, because he's grown to love me.
"So, what's your partner like?" Chelsea asks, and Renee and I erupt into giggles.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
"Hey! Oh my God, what are you doing here?" I exclaim, walking through the door into the sunshine. I've just finished my yoga class, and the last person I expected to see in the parking lot is Drew, but there he is, grinning at me.
"I made them discharge me this morning," he says, trying not to grimace as his stiff arm protests his efforts to hug me. "I had Cameron drive me so I could see you. My car's still at the station," he explains, gesturing into the little red car he's been leaning on. Leaning to see around him, I wave through the window to his sister, who smiles and waves back before going back to the book in her lap.
"How'd you know I was here?" I ask, confused.
"Silly girl, you told me you had class today. And since I'm supposed to be lounging around like a poor sad injured man, I thought I'd surprise you, and maybe we could do something," he laughs.
"Oh. Well okay. Hi, then," I say with a grin. "I have to go home and change and stuff, but if you want to ride with me, we can go out and grab some lunch or something. Maybe a movie?" I offer, thinking again of the twins suggestion that I have Drew stay with me.
/>
"Sounds great! Let me get my stuff," he says, grinning. He leans gingerly, bringing his face to the car window. Cameron lowers the window, and as I toss my yoga gear into the backseat of my car, I can faintly hear them talking. She laughs, as he declines her help with moving his things from her car to mine, refusing to open the trunk unless he lets her carry his stuff.
"You two are hilarious," I mutter, walking back to listen to their good-natured bickering. "You're like me with my sisters."
Fat Chance Page 20