Destroy (A Standalone Romance Novel)

by Adams, Claire

  “And I would have said no, if you hadn’t kissed me.” I continued reading the menu.

  “Have I that much effect on you?” he asked as innocently as he could.

  “Don’t play games, Jeff. You know you have me wrapped around your little finger. I must have hit my head somehow when I met you, because something snapped then. I cannot resist you.”

  The meal was delicious and the wine inebriating. But I have to say, I wasn’t drunk. I seemed to handle my liquor a lot better those days. Then it was time for Jeff to tell me where we were going next.

  “We’re not driving very far,” he declared. “I rather spend a lot of time with you in my arms than driving miles around the city.” I frowned. “We’re going to the Hyatt.”

  Oh whoa, I thought. That means we’re spending half the night, if not the whole night together. I swallowed hard. “Are you saying you’ve booked a room?”

  “A suite. Remember, you insisted on spending the night in a suite the first time we met.”

  “But this is different, surely,” I argued.

  The valet was bringing the car to us. No time for chitchat.

  Once the car doors had closed on us, Jeff slid over to the passenger side and kissed me. I couldn’t say another word.

  To say the night was incomparable would be a lie. We made love until we were both spent. I enjoyed every minute of his delicate touch, his tremendous power over me, and his gentle licking and kissing.

  I reached home at 5:00 a.m. on Sunday. I tiptoed to my room and plopped on my bed–exhausted but strangely happy. I was satisfied. Replete, almost.

  I took a quick shower and slipped under the cover. Within seconds, I was asleep.

  In the morning–I mean two hours later–Tiffany knocked on my door. I woke up with a start.

  “Are you jogging?” she asked, poking her head from behind the door.

  “No, sorry, not this morning, Tiff. I’ll make breakfast,” I groaned.

  By the time she closed the door, I was asleep again.

  It was past eleven when I finally emerged from the depth of my bed. I looked at the clock and plopped my head back on the pillow when I vaguely remembered that I had promised Tiffany to cook breakfast.

  A half-an-hour later, I was dressed and ready to tackle the day. I still felt a little woozy from the wine, but not really hung-over.

  That afternoon we dedicated most of our time to doing the laundry, cooking for the week and catching up on some studying. By ten o’clock, I was ready to call it a day. We hardly talked about my date with Jeff. I knew Tiffany was still mad at me for accepting to go out with him, so I let it go at a simple comment like, “Yes, it was nice. We had a good time.” Nothing more.

  On Monday, I was bright and bushy-tailed, ready to tackle the week. Dr. Kerry gave me my new assignment sheet, saying, “I believe Dr. Aldridge already told you you’ll be working with him this week.” I nodded. “So, no need for me to remind you that you need to assist him in every type of surgery he undertakes. Okay?”

  “Yes, Dr. Kerry. I think I’m ready.”

  “Well, I hope so, because you’ll have a lot to learn in one week. And the hours may be long. So, try keeping up with the pace, that’s all we can ask.”

  I knew this was going to be a very difficult assignment for me. The lengthy hours were a concern, of course, but most of all, working with Jeff day in and day out worried me.

  There was no way I would be able to avoid grabbing his hand or kissing him when no one was looking or even having a quickie in some hidden corner of the hospital. This was going to be hard.

  As soon as we started, not even an hour into it, Jeff got a call to perform an emergency surgery on a small child. He was in a bad way. He had peritonitis, meaning his appendix had burst open and Jeff needed to intervene, now!

  It seemed that we were scrubbed and ready in mere minutes. When the nurses’ aids pushed the gurney out of the elevator, I saw two things. First, Jeff’s face paled, and second, Tiffany was the attending physician. There was no time to waste in asking questions. The life of our little patient hung in the balance. We had to be fast.

  Jeff and I worked across the table from each other while Tiffany observed the procedure and closed the abdominal incision when we were done. It didn’t take long, but in this particular case, we didn’t have a moment to waste.

  As we were going down the hallway after we had shed our surgical robes, Tiffany asked Jeff quite a few pertinent questions regarding the procedure. She took a recording of Jeff’s answers and smiled to the both of us, before saying, “I’ll see you at home. Don’t be too late, okay?”

  I could have killed her on the spot. She was still giggling as she retreated to the elevator.

  Jeff was staring at me when Tiffany was gone. I lowered my gaze and then raised it to his querying eyes. “What do you want me to say? That I am sorry for talking to my girlfriend? That I found the whole incident puzzling? That I cannot prevent Tiffany from mocking me and the situation in which I find myself?”

  Jeff shook his head. “I know, Heather. I know what you’re saying, believe me I do. But when you told me that you can’t resist my kisses, I believed you. And if I told you that I can’t resist you either, would you understand what I’m saying. You’re like pollen to a bee, Heather. I have to pollinate you. I have to make love to you. You’re my pacifier. You’re my peace of mind.”

  We fell silent for a moment.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure. You can ask anything you want. I’ll give you an answer if I know it.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me for my phone number when you left me stranded in New York? If I am the woman you wanted, why didn’t you try finding me?”

  “I thought it was impossible. I could have searched for you had I known that you were a qualified physician. But since we didn’t talk about our profession at all that night; I was at a loss to know how I would be able to find you.”

  “But you didn’t try either, did you?”

  “Guilty as charged,” he replied, cracking a tentative smile.

  Three days into the week, we were walking out of the ICU and down the stairwell to return to the dungeon, when Jeff took me in his arms and slammed me against the wall. We were kissing feverishly when we heard the door on the upper floor open. We parted our bodies, but we were still in an awkward, if not suspicious position, especially when we realized that Elizabeth was coming down the stairs. Had she seen us? I didn’t think so, but no women would ignore the way we faced each other.

  I wasn’t ready to provide an explanation to anyone. I simply ran down the stairs and stopped after opening the basement door. Meanwhile I heard Elizabeth’s comments to Jeff. She was not happy.

  “Is that what you’re doing with our interns?” she demanded. “How old are you, for goodness’ sake?”

  “I’m sorry, Liz, but I wasn’t flirting. Dr. Williams was explaining how the last child we operated on reminded her of the little boy she lost when we had the bus emergency.”

  “Okay, okay. I know all about it. But you should know better than exposing yourself to a sexual harassment suit, don’t you?”

  I couldn’t hear Jeff’s answer. Suffice to say that the incident cooled me off. Sexual harassment? Now there was a thought. Although I could never imagine suing anyone for that sort of thing, Jeff had kept the possibility in mind, obviously. Had he been sued before?

  “So, you got caught, did you?” Tiffany asked me that night.

  “Yeah, we almost did, that is. I don’t think she saw us kissing each other, but she surely saw that we were together on the landing.”

  “So, are you going to cool your heels a little?”

  We were “slurping” some spaghetti Bolognese with sauce dripping on our bibs. It was hilarious to watch, but I wasn’t in any mood to laugh. I felt as if I had gone into a cage willingly and now I couldn’t convince myself to get out – even with the door wide-open. A terrible feeling.

  “I guess I’ll have to. Bu
t there is something Elizabeth said that gave me pause.”

  “What? What did she say?”

  “She said that he should be careful not to be sued for sexual harassment. That made me wonder if he had ever been in court for that sort of thing. Do you think there’s a way to find out if he’s been sued?”

  “Mmm, yes,” Tiffany answered, slurping another forkful of spaghetti. “I can talk to my dad. He’s a lawyer. He can certainly find out for us.”

  “Without telling him who’s interested in finding out, of course?”

  “Of course. Besides, my dad is discretion personified. He’ll describe an entire court case without divulging a single name or location. I tell you, no one can beat my dad as far as discretion is concerned.”

  “Sounds like the right person to talk to.”

  The following two days were spent in interesting work, with only a couple of times where I grabbed Jeff’s hand and kissed it. I knew he didn’t want a repeat incident. Otherwise, we worked very well together. It was pleasant to discuss every case we handled and my recording our conversations helped a great deal when it came to my studying.

  On Friday night, Jeff had left the scrub room just before I did. I walked down the hall leading to the locker room and heard his voice through the door. When I heard Elizabeth’s reply, I froze.

  “Are you telling me that you aren’t having an affair, when I saw you with her on the stairs’ landing? You were kissing her, weren’t you?”

  “No, I wasn’t,” Jeff said in a low voice.

  “Liar! I am telling you, I saw you. I couldn’t believe it at the time, but when I revisited the incident in my mind, I was sure that you kissed her. And you know why I’m so sure?”

  “Why?” Jeff asked, his tone still subdued.

  “Because that’s exactly what we did when we first met. Remember our sneaking around the hospital whenever we could? We made out in the hallways, the washrooms, and even in the lounge behind locked doors. Do you remember those days, Jeff?”

  “Why don’t you stop it, Liz? You’ve been after me since the other day.” His voice rose a few decibels now. “You’re like a dog with a bone. You can’t let go, can you? But I can. I’ve had enough.”

  “And I haven’t, Jeff.” She paused, while I wondered if he was taking her in his arms to calm her down. But then she went at him again. “You’ve changed, Jeff. You know that?”

  “How have I changed? Just tell me that. And maybe you can tell me how you stayed the same. Don’t even try explaining, Liz. I already know how your mind works.”

  “Well, let me repeat myself then. You have changed in ways that I couldn’t even imagine possible. Since our son died in that stupid car accident, you’re trying to recapture all we’ve lost. And that, Jeff, is impossible.”

  I couldn’t listen anymore. I was dumfounded. The boy he had lost, the boy he couldn’t save that Corey told us about, was his own son. Oh my God! Oh my dear Lord.

  I felt a total fool. A selfish idiot. The man needed consoling arms. He needed love and understanding, and all I was giving him was grief and a bit of sexual satisfaction. He was trying to escape a marriage that had been destroyed by the loss of his son. At that moment, I wanted to run out and cry my eyes out for him, for Elizabeth, and for their son.

  Chapter 26

  Yet, as if I was glued on the spot, tears running down my cheeks, I returned to listening to Elizabeth’s ranting. She was not giving him an inch; only an entire length of rope with which to hang himself.

  “You’re nothing but a self-centered bastard, Jeff. Do you think for one moment that I have not suffered since Daniel died? Do you think you’re the only one who shed tears for him? I’ve got news for you, Dr. Aldridge, I was his mother: remember? And as such, I have a huge hole in my heart that you will never be able to fill. Daniel is gone and now you are too!”

  With these words, Elizabeth burst through the locker room’s door and glared at me as she marched out to the elevators. Stunned as I was, I could not move. I watched her getting into the elevator and wondered how I was going to survive the next day or the rest of my life. This was the type of thing I feared the most: being embroiled in a scandal from which no one comes out unscathed. I leaned against the wall and wiped my eyes with the Kleenex I fetched out of my pocket. At the same moment, Jeff came out of the locker room. He stared at me for a fraction of a second before blurting out something that sounded much like an apology. I didn’t want to hear it.

  “Sorry, Dr. Aldridge, but I’ve got a patient waiting for me upstairs. I’ll talk to you later,” I said, rushing off to the nearby stairwell.

  I hoped Jeff knew better than to follow me. I was in no mood to talk to him. I do believe that if he had, one of two things might have happened: I would have pushed him down the stairs out of pure unadulterated rage or I would have kicked him in the nuts for his trouble. Neither instance would have served any purpose, except perhaps to assuage my anger against him.

  Of course, I could not deny that I was truly attracted to the man, but good sex can be found anywhere if one knows where to look. However, a good man with the loving qualities Jeff didn’t seem to possess is not easily found, no matter where you look.

  For the moment, I had slotted Jeff in the first category. He was marvelous in bed, but his emotional conduct toward his wife in the wake of his son’s loss was appalling. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t return in the arms of the woman he once loved and who was the mother of his child.

  Yet in medicine, you see all sorts of situations, which are very hard to understand as long as you have not experienced a similar ordeal. Research shows that the loss of a child in extremely sudden and difficult circumstances can create a rift between the parents. The rift can rarely be closed. The same thing occurs when women undergo cancer surgery and become ghosts of their former selves. Often times the husbands move away or divorce the women they once loved with all their hearts and souls. The distancing is irreparable in most cases. Jeff was distancing himself from his wife for inexplicable reasons. He wanted out of the marriage. He wanted out of the nightmare. He could not understand that the only person who could probably repair his broken heart was his wife, simply because she knew only too well what he was going through.

  However, Elizabeth had possibly tried everything she knew as a remedy to their physical separation without realizing that all of her attempts were futile. And if delaying the signing of the divorce papers was her way of trying to plead for Jeff’s patience or understanding, perhaps hoping the hurt of his son’s death would diminish, she was terribly mistaken. He saw her actions as a further hurt. Her delaying tactics was pushing him further away from her every single minute of every day. She should have known better.

  Nevertheless, who was I to judge? I could not be blaming the man for his conduct since I had never lost a child of my own. I could only sympathize with the feeling of loss. When the little boy died in my arms, I had a glimpse of what Jeff and Elizabeth must have felt when they lost their son. But it was only a glimpse. I overcame the ordeal in a few days. When his little sister left the children’s ward with her parents, that’s the last I saw of the family, and that would probably be the last time I would have any contact with them. But for Jeff and Elizabeth, the hurt is always present. It’s there when they go home. The ghost of their son occupies their thoughts and every inch of their home. There is no way I could survive and endure such suffering for any length of time. I would try escaping the house, the reminders of my son’s presence as fast and as often as I could.

  With these thoughts encumbering my mind, I made my way home to find a message from my mother on the answering machine. She knew now not to call me on my cell during the day. I would turn my phone off since it was a no-no to use it during working hours.

  “Hello, Heather, just calling to check-in. I wanted to let you know that your dad is getting better every day. I am not imagining things. The routine works wonders. He’s just having troubles remembering people and that kind of stuff. Ho
w’s Jeff? Anyway, call me when you get home, okay? Love you.”

  I wondered why she wanted to know about Jeff. She liked him. But why would she ask after him all of a sudden? Did he phone her? The thought of him doing so not only irritated me but scared me. I hate meddling people with a passion. But why would he call? I had to find out.

  “Hi, Mom. How are you doing?” I said, a little hesitant.

  “Hey, Heather? Doing fine, dear. I thought you’d like to know how everything is going at home. Your dad and I have established that wonderful schedule together. We’re even going bowling with the neighbor every Thursday now. Anyway, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. I’ve just come home to hear your message. I’m glad the routine is working out so soon.”

  “What do you mean so soon? Isn’t that usually the case?”

  “No, not usually, Mom. Generally, it takes several weeks or even months before the patient starts to react to the routine and adapt to it. But I always knew Dad was an exceptional patient.”

  “That he is. And that’s why I wanted to talk to Jeff too. He’s lost his parents after their battle with Alzheimer’s and I wondered if he had any other tips up his sleeve.”

  “I can always ask him, Mom. I’ll probably see him later this week and I’ll let you know.”

  Honestly, I didn’t think I would be in any mind to talk about my father or dementia patients the next time I would talk to the man. I didn’t even know if I had a job waiting for me the next day.

  “You do that, Heather, please. Anything I can do to help him, you know I will.”

  “I know, Mom, I know. What did John and Eliot say about Dad’s progress?”

  “They were surprised too, to tell you the truth. I don’t know if his pacemaker made any difference, but since he’s back from the hospital, he’s much better. He’s no longer so aggressive. Remember, I told you he didn’t want to talk to people? Well, that, too, seemed to have changed. He doesn’t mind when someone speaks to him. I was very surprised when I went with him to his barber–he needed a haircut really bad–and the man hesitated at first, but your Dad just went ahead; sat down in the chair and started babbling about the football game as if he had never been sick.”