Bedside Manners (The Breakup Doctor Series Book 2)

by Phoebe Fox

  “Let me make some coffee,” I blurted.

  “Okay,” he said instantly, so eager to please me, and guilt rode up my throat. He shot to his feet and held out a hand as if to help me out of bed.

  “Um, do you mind if I...?” I trailed off, heat surging into my face as I indicated the general region lower than my head with a spastic gesture of one arm. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen every single naked inch of what I had to offer—in extreme close-up, including my jackass tattoo, which seemed to delight him and turn him on even more—but it felt beyond awkward in the full morning light.

  “Oh, sure, right. I’ll just be in the kitchen,” he said.

  As soon as my bedroom door shut behind him I sailed into my closet for something to put on. The antisexy outfit from last night seemed like overkill now (and it wasn’t as though it had worked the way I’d planned anyway, was it?). I threw on a pair of pajamas my mom had bought me and I’d never worn: cotton drawstring pants in a pink-and-blue check pattern and a matching short-sleeved button-down top.

  Leaving my feet bare, I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth—no one felt confident with morning mouth—and smoothed out my bed head as best I could. That was about as girded as I could get at the moment for the hard talk Chip and I were about to have.

  And then, because I was a coward, and slightly panicked, I texted Sasha. Can you come over in 15-20?

  If nothing else, her arrival would keep the discussion from dragging on, and encourage Chip to leave.

  Her response was instant: See you then.

  When I came out to the kitchen I saw Chip holding the coffeepot in one hand as he stood in front of my open pantry, staring inside. I had a flash of Ben standing in almost this same position just a week ago, and felt ill.

  “Oh, hey,” he said with an instant smile when he saw me. “I couldn’t find the coffee. Or the filters, for that matter.”

  “That’s okay.” I passed two feet behind him toward the freezer, where I kept the coffee, and took the bag to the coffeemaker in the corner by the sink, reaching to the cabinet above it for the filters. Chip filled the pot from the faucet while I measured the coffee—I usually used filtered, because Florida water tasted like it had come from a public pool, but didn’t correct him—and after I poured it in and turned it on, we stood there in awkward silence punctuated by the trickle of brewing coffee.

  I’d never been on this side of the morning after—when I was the one wishing I’d woken up alone.

  I took a deep breath. “Chip—”

  “Doc—Brook—wait,” he broke in. “Before you say anything, there’s something I need to say to you, okay? I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but...I was afraid.”

  My heart fell to the kitchen floor with what I swore was an audible thud. A declaration of love was going to make what I had to say infinitely harder on both of us.

  “Oh, Chip, no,” I said hastily. “I...Thank you—I can’t tell you how flattered I am, and it means a lot—really. But you have to understand it’s too soon for that. I’m barely out of my last relationship, and I’m not ready to fall in love with someone else right now. Or you know, who knows—maybe ever?” Chip looked stunned, and I gave a rough laugh. “I don’t mean I couldn’t ever love you back—that didn’t come out like I meant it—I just mean that right now I can’t even...I just...It’s way too soon for that, Chip.”

  “Um, Doc...” He laughed, but it was more an uncomfortable discharge of sound. “I think you’re awesome, and I’m digging whatever this is between us, but I wasn’t going to say the L-word. Geez.”

  Oh. Dear God. When Ben actually said he loved me I assumed he hadn’t—which had basically landed me here. Now I’d assumed Chip was going to say it when he wasn’t. How the hell did I keep mortifying myself this way? I really had to learn to shut up.

  “I, okay, I’m sorry, I assumed—but I know what happens when you assume—and I didn’t mean to...” Agh. Like now. Time to shut up now. “What was it you were going to say, Chip?” I finally pushed out.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, moving his gaze out the window over my kitchen sink. “Right. Can we go sit down? Maybe out on the porch?”

  My stomach clenched. I couldn’t imagine what he was so nervous about, but based on his anxiety I didn’t suppose it could be good. But Sasha should be here in ten minutes or so, so what harm could there be in hearing whatever his confession was? “Sure,” I said, and while we waited for the coffee to finish brewing I ran through possibilities in my head: I’m married. I’m an ex-con. I killed a man.

  After we poured our mugs full we stepped onto the lanai and I took the sofa, leaving the chair for Chip, but instead he sat at the other end, each of us holding our coffee.

  “Okay, so listen,” he said, turning so that our knees almost touched. “I told you how much you’ve changed me, and that’s the truth, Brook. That’s why I want to come clean with you. I want you and I to start with a fresh slate, everything on the table.”

  You and I pinballed from one side of my brain to the other. There was no you and I between me and Chip, I realized with a sinking heart. Having him here like this clarified that. It was Ben. It had been Ben from the beginning.

  But how could I love Ben and sleep with Chip?

  I was a complete mess. Where was Sasha? I needed to talk this out with her. I reached to my pocket to check the time, but realized I’d left my phone in the bedroom.

  “I don’t want to be writing a letter to you one day like you had me write to my other exes, so I’m just going to tell you now,” Chip went on, oblivious to my inner stew. “I haven’t been totally honest with you.”

  My eyes shot up to his. “What?”

  “Nothing huge,” he said quickly. “Just logistics, really.”

  Logistics? What was he talking about?

  He gave me that smile that transformed his face from intimidating to inviting, reaching over to tuck hair behind my ear. “I’m still working at the bar. For now.”

  I frowned, confused. “Wait...you mean a different bar?”

  “No, I mean Floppies.”

  “The same bar you said you quit?”

  His smile grew even more dazzling. A Crest commercial. “That’s the one. But it’s temporary, just till I find something better. Trust me—I’m not going to be a middle-aged drink slinger like some of those idiots I work with.”

  Unease slithered through my belly. The “idiots” were back. “Are you...what, are you planning to stay there till you graduate?”

  “Oh, hell, no. God knows when that will be.”

  “What do you mean?” Were we having two different conversations? “I thought you were in school full-time?”

  He nodded. “I will be. As soon as I save up enough to quit the bar and enroll.”

  It felt as if my brain tightened inside my skull. “I’m not sure I’m...Enroll? Aren’t you already...?” I didn’t finish, because when Chip’s lips quirked at the corner and he reached over for my hair again, I suspected I knew the answer. I set my coffee down on the table—liquid sloshed over the edges—and quickly stood up, stepping away.

  “Chip, are you in school right now? At all?”

  “I talked to a counselor. I know what I’m going to major in.” His voice was soothing, calm. “I just haven’t actually signed on the dotted line yet, you know? I didn’t want to lock myself in until I had a clear path set for myself. You always tell me to think of my future.”

  “Not just think of it, Chip. You have to act on it.” My voice rose into a slightly hysterical register.

  He reached into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts—still all he wore—and coolly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I would have asked him not to smoke on my porch, but it seemed like the slightest of my concerns at the moment. “You taught me not to be so impulsive,” h
e said, tapping the pack on the table and then putting one of the white sticks into his mouth. He winked as he lit it, and I wondered what on earth I’d ever found sexy about the deadly habit. “So I’m being careful. Weighing my options. But, Brook, don’t worry—that’s what I’m telling you.” He took a deep draw. “All the things I told you—that’s what’s going to happen. You’ll learn that about me—I make things happen, always. You can count on that.”

  Oh, yes, I realized with a feeling of nausea blooming in my belly. Chip certainly made things happen.

  But I couldn’t blame him entirely. I was equally at fault for the situation I’d gotten myself into.

  “Actually, Chip, how can you tell someone to count on you when you’ve been lying to them? For weeks?” My voice was thin in my ears.

  “I was afraid you’d see it that way,” Chip admitted, as though I’d somehow disappointed him. “Brook, I did all of it for you. You see that, right? I want to be the man you want—the man you deserve. And I’m getting there. I promise, babe.”

  I gaped at him, unable even to think of a reply to that. What did it matter? Why bother saying anything at all? I didn’t even understand his reality if talking about something was as good as doing it—if creating an image of what you thought someone else wanted was the same in his mind as actually being that person.

  All along I’d been seeing what I’d wanted to see—what he wanted me to see. And I hadn’t had the insight or savvy to look past it. Chip was who he was, and he’d never change.

  Some therapist I was.

  I heard Jake’s little woof and saw that he’d come to the back door, and I went over to let him in. “Good boy,” I said absently, digging my fingers into the thick fur on his neck as he shoved his nose happily into my crotch.

  I heard Chip’s, “Hey!” exactly at the moment I realized—Jake wasn’t staying with me anymore.

  My stomach fell to the concrete patio as time slowed down and I saw several things as if all at once:

  Chip lounging shirtless on my sofa, lazily smoking a cigarette.

  Me in pink pajamas and bare feet.

  And Ben coming around the corner of my house, calling my name, his face softening when he saw me, and freezing just as fast as he took in the whole tableau.

  He came to the most abrupt of stops in the yard, ten feet away from my screen door.

  Which was exactly when I heard Sasha’s voice behind me saying, “We brought doughnuts!” and saw her and my brother standing in the open sliding glass door to my house.

  Time sped back up and suddenly everything happened in fast forward.

  “Oh,” Sasha said as she caught sight of the half-naked Chip, who’d dunked his cigarette in his cup of coffee as he stood up. And then “Oh!” again as she took in Jake, and Ben still standing frozen on my lawn. The bag dropped from her hands and Jake beelined for the sudden gift from the universe. I lunged after him, inanely thinking, He can’t have chocolate!, but tripped on the leg of the chair and went sprawling to the concrete. Chip came to take one arm to help me up, Stu at my other—“Are you okay, sis?”—as I heard Ben sharply calling Jake, who saw that I was down on the ground and assumed it was doggy playtime, throwing all hundred pounds of himself on top of me and eagerly licking my neck.

  “Jake!” Ben called again.

  “Ben,” I said.

  “That one’s Ben?” my brother said incredulously, looking from the shirtless Chip on my lanai to Ben out in the yard. “Who’s this?”

  “Chip,” Sasha muttered darkly, crouching to shove spilled doughnuts back into the bag.

  “Chip?” I heard Ben say in a wounded tone that broke my heart.

  I scrambled to stand, pushing both Chip and my brother away. “Ben, it’s not like it looks.”

  “What?” Chip said, sounding affronted. “Yeah, it is.”

  “Shut up, Chip,” Sasha said.

  “My fault,” Ben said tightly. “I called to tell you I was on my way. I shouldn’t have come when you didn’t answer. Jake, come.” His harsh command failed to break through to Jake, who was leaning his whole body weight into me, his brushy tail slapping my thigh so fast it blurred.

  “Oh, yeah, we tried calling too, Brook,” Sash said. “You really ought to answer your phone.” She made exaggerated bug eyes between Chip and Ben, as though I could possibly miss her meaning.

  You think?! I thought sickly.

  “Jake, come!” Ben sounded desperate.

  But Jake was too happy to see me, and was busy throwing himself onto his back, teeth showing through gravity-slack lips in an incongruous smile, begging for me to rub his belly. And because I was suddenly swamped with blinding love for this crazy dog, and knew he was the only thing keeping Ben here, I obliged.

  Sasha, bless her, tried to take control. “Well, I think the rest of us ought to let you two talk,” she said.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Chip answered.

  “Not you,” Stu barked, and my head shot to my brother in surprise. “Let’s go.” He stepped past me and Jake on the lanai to shepherd Chip inside.

  “I don’t have my clothes!” Chip protested, resisting.

  I cringed.

  “Don’t worry about it—I’m going,” Ben said. “Jake!”

  “Ben, please,” I said, furiously scratching Jake to keep him in place. “Just wait a minute. Please.”

  “Hey!” Chip said. “Why does he get to stay?”

  Sasha had somehow found time to dart inside and was back in place in the sliding glass doorway, holding a men’s pair of shoes and Chip’s crumpled T-shirt. “Got your things,” she said to Chip. “From the guest room.”

  I wanted to both hug her and roll my eyes at the weak attempt at damage control.

  “If he’s staying, I’m staying,” Chip said obstinately.

  “You’re not staying,” I said, exactly as I heard Ben’s voice say, “I’m not staying.”

  I rose from petting Jake and turned to look at Ben, and once again time froze for just a moment. His mouth pulled down at the corners and his whole face seemed to sag, at the same time his body was stiff as a pole.

  I’d done this to him.

  “Ben, I’m so sorry,” I whispered. But I didn’t know whether he heard me. Through blurred vision I saw a white streak bolt past me toward Ben, who caught the dog’s huge head in his hands and fast as lightning clipped a leash I hadn’t realized he’d been holding to Jake’s collar. Then Ben turned his back on me and walked out, pulling a resistant Jake, the only one still looking back at me.

  Something crumbled to dust in my chest.

  “Geez, that was awkward.”

  Chip’s voice seemed to come from far away and I turned slowly and raised my eyes to him, distantly registering my brother and Sasha side by side again in the doorway.

  “Go. Just go,” I said dully. I was talking to everyone. I wanted to be left alone with my shame.

  Chip flashed that smile, but this time it only made me want to scratch it from his face. “Brook, come on. You can’t always be a lone wolf. We have to start working on stuff as a couple. Could you guys leave us alone?” he said to Sasha and Stu.

  Fury surged through me like a jet stream.

  “There is no us,” I grated out in a voice cold and sharp as a glacier. “We aren’t a couple. We are nothing, Chip. Nothing. Every single second I’ve known you has been based on lies. You don’t even exist. Now get out of my house.”

  I’d never heard my voice like this—dead and flat and cruel. From the corner of my eye I caught Sasha, pale as milk, looking at me as if I might detonate at any second. Stu’s eyes were fixed on me too, bewildered, worried, and I saw him reach to Sasha and put an arm around her.

  Protecting her from me, I thought.

  Chip’s expression moved from indulgence to shock to a sn
eer within milliseconds. “Really? Fuck you, Brook,” he said, but I was too far gone to even blanch at his shout. “You’re just like every other bitch I’ve ever dated—you don’t even appreciate everything I’ve done for you.”

  “That’s enough out of you.” The roar came from my mild-mannered brother, who charged onto the lanai like Rambo, taking Chip hard by the arm and pushing him toward the sliding door. “You heard Brook. Get out.”

  “Get your fucking hands off me, dude!”

  Chip pushed Stu’s chest, and my brother, taller by a hair but not as solid, stumbled backward, off balance. His heel caught on the concrete threshold and his ankle twisted. I saw him grimace, saw his leg collapse from under him, and still my brother fought to stay on his feet—to protect his women.

  But Chip, like an animal sensing weakness, lunged forward and landed a hard punch directly to Stu’s chest.

  A machine-gun barrage of sounds registered: the sickening thunk of Chip’s fist against Stu’s rib cage, the air whooshing out of my brother as the force of the blow propelled him backward again, a terrifying crack as Stu’s head bounced off the corner of the open door, Sasha’s enraged scream just before she launched herself right at Chip, attaching herself to him like a feral, clawing cat.

  “What the hell, you crazy bitch!” he shouted. “Get the fuck off—I don’t hurt women!”

  “Bullshit!” Some primal thing in me screamed at yet another lie, remembering his ex Katie. “Don’t you touch her!” I charged toward where the two of them had become a freakish animal of connected torsos and flailing arms and legs, and started pushing between them, trying to stop Chip, to protect Sasha. It was like trying to separate conjoined twins, but finally Sasha let go and dropped away from Chip, her jaw jutted and her arms lifted like Rocky Balboa.

  I stepped fast into the space that had opened up between them and turned to Sash. “Okay,” I said, panting. “Enough. He’ll go—you check on Stu.”

  Sasha seemed to come back to herself and nodded—and then suddenly her eyes went wide. “Brook!” she yelled.