by Max Monroe
I nodded, considering the offer seriously. I probably should make an effort. “Sure, man.” I held out my hand, and he shook it before heading down the hall.
Funny how Will had been the last person on earth I’d wanted to see, but the first one to sweeten my horrendously sour mood.
Sometimes friends are in weird places.
“Wait a minute,” Harper stated in my ear. “Where are you going?”
“To pick up Doreen and Harry,” I responded and mentally prepared myself for our phone conversation to take a turn for the worse.
“And who the fuck are Doreen and Harry?”
“They’re my friends.”
She scoffed. “You mean, the same friends who are currently living in your house.”
See? This is what happens when you tell your friends things. The mocking goes on forever. This current run of merciless teasing is coming up on two weeks now.
“It’s not exactly like that…”
“It sounds a lot like that.”
“There’s more to the story than that,” I explained. “Yeah, they are currently living in my house, but before the auction, it had been their house. For over fifty years, it had been their home. And up until last year, everything was going good for them. It was after Harry had a heart attack and had to get a triple bypass that everything went to shit.”
I’d eventually gotten the balls to have the conversation with them. I’d explained to them that I’d bought their house at the sheriff’s auction, and the reason Nick and I had been in their house that one day was because it was the day I’d gotten the keys.
Doreen had sobbed when I’d explained the situation to her, and I even showed her the deed.
She hadn’t known.
And Harry, well, he was a proud man, and he didn’t want to be the one to tell his wife they’d officially lost their house because they were too far behind on mortgage payments.
The sad part of it all was, at one point, they’d had that house paid off.
But then Harry had gotten sick, and they’d taken out another mortgage to make ends meet when he had to stop working, and then a second mortgage to pay for all of the medical bills he’d incurred.
They’d had a real shit deal handed to them, and I just couldn’t be the one to remove them from that house. At least not right now.
I could handle the shitty apartment in Chinatown. Anyway, seeing as my mood had been shit since the day Nick and I had broken up, that apartment had started to grow on me. I guessed it matched my life now.
“Wow,” Harper breathed into the phone. “Uh. Do you honestly hear yourself right now?”
I knew it all sounded ridiculous. But Doreen and Harry had grown on me. Hell, they’d become close friends. The fact that I was heading to pick them up from their joint colonoscopy appointment was proof of that.
Though, why a married couple would schedule a colonoscopy together was beyond me, but to each their own, I guessed.
Two days ago, when I’d stopped by to eat dinner with them, Doreen had mentioned that they planned on taking a cab home from their procedure, but I’d insisted that I’d pick them up. I just didn’t feel comfortable with them getting in some random person’s cab still high off the sedatives they’d administered during their procedures.
Plus, with only prospect follow-up calls on the books for today, I knew I’d be able to pick them up without any issues.
“Listen, Harper,” I said and cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear as I unlocked the door to my car. “I’d love to continue this conversation further, but I have to get moving.”
“You mean, you need to get off the phone to pick up your friends slash roommates,” she responded sarcastically. “Well, considering you’re not actually living in your own house, I guess they’re not really your roommates, huh?”
Considering I hadn’t really had a chance to go into all the details about Harry and Doreen’s situation, I was trying to give Harper the benefit of the doubt. She didn’t know the full story, because if she did, I had a feeling she’d be more sympathetic.
“Are you done?”
“Not really.”
I sighed and opened the driver’s side door. “How about I’ll call you later tonight, and you can chastise me some more?” I tossed back. “I’ll even make sure I’ve got an entire hour cleared out just to hear your bitching.”
“Okay.” A small laugh filled my ears. “I get it. I’m being a little bit of a bitch right now, huh?”
“Yeah,” I answered honestly. “And probably more than just a little bit.”
“You know it comes from a good place, right? It’s only because I want the best for you.”
“Thankfully, I do understand that.”
“Okay, good,” she said on a relieved sigh. “Go pick up your new friends Doreen and Harry from their couple’s massage—”
“Cripes.” A hearty laugh escaped my lungs. “They had colonoscopies! Not massages!”
She laughed. “My bad. Couple’s colonoscopies.”
When she said it like that, I also couldn’t help but laugh at the scenario.
“You know what they say,” I teased. “The couples that get their asses checked together, stay together.”
“I’ll make sure I keep that in mind for my future husband.” Harper’s answering smile was apparent in her voice, and I did my best not to go to the dark place as the words “future husband” reminded me of Nick. “Call me later?”
“Only if you promise not to bitch, and we focus our conversation on what is happening on Game of Thrones right now.”
“Deal,” she agreed. “Love you, you little bleeding heart who buys a house only to let someone else live in it because she is literally the most patient and caring person on the planet.”
“Is that my new nickname?” I teased. “It’s quite long. I’m not sure if Ivy will be able to remember it.”
“Shut up,” she muttered. “Go pick up the butt twins. I’ll call you later.”
“Bye! Love you!” I shouted into the phone and ended the call.
With a turn of my key, the engine revved to life. I backed out of my parking spot in the long-term garage and headed in the direction of the Outpatient Endoscopy Center in Hoboken.
I had a couple of colonoscopy victims to pick up.
At a little after six, I’d managed to get a very groggy Doreen and Harry home safely and settled on their couch. The doctor had told me they’d both handled the procedure well, but that it would be wise if someone kept an eye on them for a few hours until the anesthetic had completely worn off.
Standing in the kitchen, I whipped up the easiest meal I could think of—French toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon.
I wasn’t the world’s most talented chef, but I knew my way around a breakfast for dinner meal option. And, who doesn’t love eating breakfast for dinner? It was one of the greatest inventions known to man.
Once the last piece of French toast was cooked to a nice golden brown, I started dishing out hearty portions onto everyone’s plates. Obviously, with Harry getting the biggest portions. The man had a huge appetite to begin with, and after twenty-four hours of suffering through a clear liquid diet and colonoscopy prep, I had a feeling he’d need at least five pieces of French toast.
“Hurry up, Char!” Doreen shouted from her cozy spot in the living room. “The show is about to start!”
“Shit,” I muttered to myself. “Be there in a sec!” I called back and quickly finished dropping a few slices of bacon onto everyone’s plates.
In record time, I got Doreen and Harry all set up with their meals and portable dinner trays. They both grinned at me and offered their thanks, and as the credits for the show started to flash across the screen, I plopped myself down onto the love seat across from them and rested my own plate in my lap.
Riveted, I kept my gaze fixated on the screen.
But holy smokes, I was nervous.
Tonight was the first episode of the reality docuseries, The Doctor Is In, th
at I’d been brave enough to watch. Harper had been watching for weeks, but only spoke about the specifics in hushed tones when she thought I wasn’t listening. Apparently, she understood the pain associated with all things St. Luke’s Hospital.
Nick’s episodes would be the last to air, apparently, but those of his fellow peer in OB/GYN, Will Cummings, were on now. I wasn’t sure why I felt the urge to watch it. Curiosity? Masochism? Or the blind hope of seeing Nick’s face again, even if it was just on the TV?
Or maybe it was a combination of all three?
I honestly had no idea, and instead of dissecting thoughts and emotions, I focused my energy on watching the show.
The opening music continued, a fast tempo with a ton of B-roll footage of the hospital, its halls, and the busy streets of Manhattan. The footage sped up, zooming in the front doors of St. Luke’s Hospital, through the halls, stairwell, and around the corner to the front entrance of Dr. Cummings’s Obstetrics and Gynecology Office.
And then the doors opened, and Will’s face with the words Dr. OB filled the screen.
He introduced himself and his practice and welcomed viewers into his world. So far, it all appeared very normal.
Well, it had, until various, shocking words started to flash across the screen.
Sex.
Scandal.
Intrigue.
Secrets.
Lies.
The graphic for the show filled the screen again, and the words Dr. OB appeared at the bottom. But this time, a ghost of the letters “s-c-e-n-e” filled the space right after.
Dr. Obscene.
Holy hell. They’d give him the name Dr. Obscene.
My jaw all but hit the top of my French toast as my mind digested the information.
Obviously, I didn’t know Will Cummings, but I had a hard time believing he was the kind of man to actually live up to all of those insane words and descriptions the show had just given its viewers.
Not to mention, they’d changed the OB moniker into something that was the opposite of respectable. It was dirty. It was ridiculous. It was a commercial, sensationalized disaster.
My heart started to pound furiously inside of my chest.
If this was what they’d made out of Will’s episodes, what in the hell were they going to do with Nick’s?
We had been together when they’d first started to film his episodes. I knew they’d gotten me on camera more than once.
Jesus, what would Winnie or Remy do if they found out that Nick and I had been in a relationship at one point?
I hadn’t spoken with him in weeks and weeks, but I couldn’t stop myself from grabbing my phone out of my purse and sending him a text message.
Me: I’m watching Will’s episode and…just…God, I’m sorry, Nick. I’m really, really sorry.
Brief. To the point. But still caring to its core. He sent a response a minute later.
Nick: It’s not your fault, sweetheart.
His message only made me miss him more.
As it turns out, it wasn’t such a good idea to become friends with Will Cummings.
He was a good guy and all, and he definitely made me laugh the few times we’d gone out for drinks after work, but he’d also been the one to rope me into this event.
Beards for Bab(i)es.
His girlfriend Melody had a free women’s clinic at St. Luke’s, and they needed more funds to continue their endeavor of providing free healthcare to women in need. As someone in the field, I knew how it worked—how much free medical care really cost—and it didn’t come cheap. I only had experience with one other clinic that did pro bono work, a gender nonspecific place in Palo Alto, California. They had benefits every few months, such was the demand on their cash flow.
So I’d done my part, growing my beard—something the now emotionally hollow version of me didn’t mind at all—and I’d shown up tonight despite not wanting to.
It’d almost been three months since Charlotte and I broke up, and no matter how much I wished for it, it never got easier.
My life felt like a fuse, burning along on its way to a bomb—my episodes of the show.
Scott’s were airing now, and after watching a fair number of them, I knew I was fucked.
Just like they’d caught Will sneaking into an on call room with a nurse, I knew they’d have footage of Charlotte and me, and I knew at least some of it would place us in compromising positions.
Once it was in the national spotlight, there’d be no avoiding the consequences of her past with Remy and the fallout of what he and Winnie might feel as a result.
Speaking of…
“Hey, Win,” I greeted, careful to keep my hands firmly off of her in all aspects as Wes looked on from behind. He’d settled into a peaceful observance of me on most days, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t like a visual reminder of a time when I’d had my hands all over his now wife—graciously trusting person or not.
If it were me, with Charlotte, I knew I wouldn’t.
Honestly, that was the twisted part. One of the hardest things of the whole breakup for me had been my inability to stop picturing her with Remy. Every time I saw him, I felt irrationally jealous and territorial. The woman wasn’t his anymore, hadn’t been for a long time—in fact, that was the actual issue—and she certainly wasn’t mine. Still, it burned.
“Dr. Nick Raines,” she said with a smile. “You’re looking just about as miserable as ever.”
I smiled dryly. “Thanks.”
“I just thought you’d cheer up at some point. This is bordering on ridiculous. I’m wondering what kind of charms this mystery ex-girlfriend held to keep you so wrapped up.”
I bit my lip and shook my head instead of getting into it.
I didn’t have anything sturdy enough to clean up that can of worms.
Not only was it never good to tell the woman it didn’t work out with all the things you liked about the one with which you wished it did, it really wasn’t a good idea to get into anything specific about Charlotte. Lord only knew what Winnie remembered from back then.
“Listen,” I said, my brain bleeding the blood my heart was furiously beating through it as I thought about what I was about to ask. It was quite possibly the stupidest thing I’d ever considered doing, and yet, here I was doing it.
Winnie moved in a little closer as I lowered my voice, her eyes openly curious and assessing.
“What happened with Remy and his fiancé?”
Her head jerked as she registered what I was asking. Panic parachuted directly into my veins.
“His fiancé… How did you… How do you know about that?”
I shrugged, doing my best to play off one of the least casual things I’d ever brought up, casually. Ironic.
“I just…I heard it. It opens some new perspectives on him for me, so…I’m curious.”
Winnie’s clever eyes were sharp on my face, but they didn’t seem knowing. Just interested.
She sighed. “She left the night before the wedding and never looked back.”
I chewed at the inside of my lip and hoped she couldn’t tell. “And so you hate her,” I surmised.
Her melodic laugh was completely unexpected, but it cut off quickly as she shook her head. “You’d think. Given the circumstances and how much I love Remy…how much he’s done for me and Lex.” Her eyes went soft, and I nodded.
I knew he’d been there when I wasn’t.
“But Remy told me some things a couple of years after.” She shook her head. “He was drunk, but he was tortured. And completely guilty.”
“Guilty?” I asked, surprised. Charlotte had always taken all the blame. She’d never said anything to plead her case or ease her mistake. She’d just taken responsibility.
Winnie nodded. “She was young, had just graduated college. And she’d gotten a job offer. A big job offer in California. Remy could have gone along with her, his job was flexible enough for it, but he told her he wouldn’t go. Basically, gave her an ultimatum. Him or the job.”
She sighed. “At twenty-two, with the way he’d given her no choice?” Her voice was soft and forgiving. “I’d have taken the job too.”
She grabbed my shoulder and shook me slightly to free me from my thoughts; I knew I had to look torturously introspective. But she didn’t mention it.
I watched woodenly as she walked away, the sound of Charlotte’s crazy laugh ringing in my ears with every step Winnie took.
Winnie was my past; Lexi was my present.
I desperately wanted Charlotte to be a part of the future.
There was nothing worse than going grocery shopping on a Sunday afternoon when everyone in the entire world was there. The aisles were packed. And the checkout lanes looked like the cashiers would never get through all of the customers without having a nervous breakdown or just up and quitting in the middle of their shift.
This was what happened when you were a procrastinator on anything and everything related to daily adult responsibilities.
I pushed my cart to the produce section, weaving in and out of the crowd until I reached the fruit. I glanced down at the items left on my list.
Milk
Bread
Eggs
Turkey
Oreos
M&Ms
Bananas
Apples
Grapes
With my eyes on the prize, the prize being an escape from the insanity that was Sunday grocery shopping, I snagged a plastic produce bag from the dispenser and started feeling up all the apples until I found a few that met my high standards—firm, colorful, and barely any brown spots.
As I reached for apple number four, my gaze locked with the most familiar blue eyes. I knew those eyes. They’d once brought me all the happiness in the world, until everything had fallen apart, and they’d left me feeling like an empty, heartbroken mess.
“Char?” Remy stared back at me, his hand paused mid-reach toward the bananas.
Holy shit.
And at that very moment, my hands decided it was the perfect time to forget how to work. I dropped my produce bag with a thud, and my coveted apples scattered across the tile floor.