by Max Monroe
My childhood home in Staten Island was beautiful. Elaborate moldings and decorative sconces, along with a nine-foot, iron-embellished solid wood front door.
Of course, my parents had sold that when my father had stopped working in Manhattan and settled into Chip’s, the hardware store my grandfather had founded a few blocks from my grandparents’ house.
The house they moved into, the one I stood at the door to today, was a shoebox at 900 square feet, and the fixtures were all from the seventies.
I’d spent so long looking at it with disdain, I’d barely even noticed how much happier my dad seemed.
Three concussive knocks to the door and a press to the doorbell for good measure executed, I stepped back and waited for my mother to answer. She would, I knew, as my dad would be somewhere tinkering with something with greasy hands and a stained shirt while she toiled with baked goods in the kitchen.
I miss them.
The door swung open with the drama of a curtain on opening night of a Broadway show, and I felt my heart jump into my throat.
My mom’s eyes were worn with age, but they weren’t anything but wide and bright as she recognized me. Now she knew me. Unlike the millions of people who’d seen a highly edited version of one aspect of my life, she’d raised me. I’d lost my way from her for a while, but a mother’s heart never changed.
“Nick!”
“Hi, Mom,” I murmured demurely. She didn’t conform.
All zeal and action, she dove into my arms and hugged me tight with both thin arms.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re here. It’s so good to see you. What are you doing here? How are you off work?”
I laughed at a mother’s ability to ask so many questions at once, and I pulled her clinging arms off of me to give her a smile. “Can we maybe go inside before I start answering?”
Her giggle was light and delighted. “Yes! Yes, of course. Come in, come in!”
But before we could step into the house, she dove into my arms again.
“Mom,” I said through a laugh.
“I’m just so glad to see you,” she whispered in my ear. Emotion rolled through her voice like a wave and broke all over my heart.
I tightened my arms around her. “I’m sorry,” I whispered right into the line of her neck. She smelled exactly like I’d always remembered. “I was such an idiot, staying away this long.”
Her head shook against me. “All that matters is that you’re here now.”
Safely in a chair in the kitchen, after half a cup of tea consumed and a bunch of mother-son mooning behind us, my dad walked in and did a double take when he spotted me. “Jack,” my mom cooed with a smile, “Look who’s here.”
As much as my mother’s exuberant greeting was normal, the tear that leaked from my father’s eye at the sight of me, there, in his kitchen, smiling, was not.
“Dad?”
I stood up and walked toward him, worried.
He pulled me into his arms as soon as I was within reach and pounded at my back like a carpenter with a hammer. I got choked up immediately.
Jesus Christ, I wasn’t used to this much emotion.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I was an idiot.”
“You were,” he agreed easily, and I laughed.
He scooted back and grabbed me by the jaw, pride in his eye. “But you sure made something of yourself. A big-time doctor and a TV star all in one. Most parents only have one thing to brag about.”
“I made a mess,” I corrected. “But I’m finally trying to clean it up.”
He stepped back, and my mom slid under his free arm.
They looked to one another before my father responded for both of them. “We don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about.”
I chuckled. “Can we all sit down? I’d love to explain it to you.”
They moved toward the table, both eager and set on discovery. I turned my mom to face me with a soft hand on her shoulder just before she took a seat at the table. “Mom?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Do you still have Grandma’s ring?”
Charlotte belongs with me.
Nick: Can we talk?
I stared down at the message. It had been forty-eight hours since he’d sent it, and I was starting to feel like an asshole for not responding. Initially, my reaction had been emotional.
I guess I feared that I would go into that conversation with hope—hope that I’d want to hear what he had to say, that things could be different, that there was still a way to make us work.
And all that hope could only mean a harder fall when I got let down.
But I knew there wasn’t. Nick had made his decision, and he was not the kind of man who took things lightly. When he made a big decision, he made it with careful thought and planning. He lacked that impulsiveness I seemed to be so damn good at it.
Maybe a simple conversation with him will be a good thing? Maybe it will help you move on from this?
Without thinking further into it, or giving myself time to second guess, I went with what felt right in that moment.
Me: Okay. I’m busy tonight, but how about we meet for lunch tomorrow?
I pressed send and slid my phone into my purse. My heels click-clacked down the hallway as I quickened my steps and headed into my shoebox-sized bathroom to put the finishing touches on my hair and makeup.
And a few moments later, I got another text message from an unknown number.
332-111-5555: Good evening, Ms. Hollis. My name is Hugh, and I will be your driver this evening to dinner with Mr. Michaels. I’m sitting outside of your apartment. Feel free to come down whenever you’re ready to go.
Me: Hi, Hugh. I’ll be down in just a sec.
I quickly pressed send on my message and touched up my lipstick before grabbing my phone, purse, and keys and heading out the door.
“To Charlotte Hollis,” Conrad Michaels lifted his glass of wine and grinned at me from across the table he’d reserved for us at La Porro. “A woman who is a true force to be reckoned with, and for whom my organization will always be grateful.”
My cheeks flushed from his complimentary words.
“Wow. Thank you. I honestly don’t know what else to say.” I clinked my glass with his before taking a small sip of the white wine he’d chosen for our meal.
Tonight was a little celebration dinner that Mr. Michaels, the CEO of Kennedy Medical Center, had set up to show his appreciation for the work I’d done for his hospital. He’d even flown in from LA just for this event. Not to mention, the complimentary limo ride from my apartment to the restaurant.
Over the past six months, I’d managed to bring five exceptional surgeons to his organization. And the one he was most thankful for was Dr. Sylvia Morris. She’d officially been at Kennedy Medical Center for three months, and already, she’d trailblazed a path that centered around innovation and patient-focused care.
“You’re a true gem, Charlotte,” he complimented with a toothy grin. “And just know that if there ever comes a time when CMI isn’t treating you right, give me a call. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
My cheeks heated again, and I waved him off. “Stop it, or else my head will get too big to fit out the door.”
He chuckled softly. “All right, for the sake of you being able to leave the restaurant tonight without the use of a bulldozer, I’ll change the topic of conversation for a little while.”
“Thank God,” I teased.
“So, you used to live in LA for a while, right?”
“Yep,” I answered after a small sip of wine. “A little over two years, I think.”
“Which is better,” he quirked a brow, “LA or New York?”
I scoffed. “New York. Hands down.”
Conrad smirked. “So quick to respond. It’s like you didn’t even think it through.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy my time in LA, but New York is my home. I belong in this city.”
“You grew up here?”
&n
bsp; I nodded. “Born and raised.”
He winked. “A New Yorker through and through, huh?”
“Yep,” I answered with a smile. “I will always—” I started to add more insight into my NYC love, but I paused midsentence when someone said my name behind me.
I turned in my seat to find Nick walking toward me. No, striding toward me, with a determined look on his face.
“Nick?” I questioned the obvious. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you,” he answered. His mouth morphed into a firm line when glanced at Conrad, and then when his gaze made its way back to me, he added, “I needed to see you.”
“But I sent you a message and said that I could do lunch tomorrow. How in the hell did you know I was here?”
“Harper and Ivy.”
Those little bitches.
I nodded toward Conrad at the table. “But I’m kind of in the middle of something here, Nick. I don’t have time to talk to you right now.” I started to say more, but he didn’t let me go any further.
“I couldn’t wait until tomorrow. And it’s okay, Char,” he said. “I understand that we’re not together, and it’s your right to go on dates, but I’m here because I don’t want it to be like that between us anymore.”
“This isn’t a—” I tried to explain, but he was a man on a mission, his words flowing past his lips quicker than I could insert anything into the conversation.
“I don’t want you going on dates with other men. And I sure as fuck don’t want to go on dates with other women.” The more words that flew out of his mouth, the louder his voice grew, and patrons within the swanky restaurant started to look toward our table. Most were just intrigued, but others appeared downright disgusted by our presence during their expensive dinner.
“This isn’t a date,” I said loud enough to force him to slow his rambling roll. “I’m not on a date, Nick,” I repeated. “This is Conrad Michaels, the CEO of Kennedy Medical Center.”
“It’s not a date?” he questioned, and the relief in his voice was nearly palpable.
“Not a date,” Conrad chimed in. “For one, my wife wouldn’t be too pleased with that, and two, this is actually a thank-you dinner for Charlotte. My organization has a lot of gratitude for everything she helped us achieve over the past year.”
Nick glanced back and forth between us. “So, it’s not a date?”
Good Lord, for a highly intelligent brain surgeon, he was acting kind of stupid.
I still had no clue why he was here, but it felt like he’d turned into a fucking broken record, and my opportunity to get answers was quickly fading away.
Not to mention, now the entire restaurant was staring at us.
I wasn’t sure if I would rather crawl under the table and hide my face or make an even bigger scene and sprint out of the restaurant like my ass was on fire.
“Have you lost your mind?” Charlotte whispered, horrified at the scene I’d created in La Porro, a five-star modern-American restaurant, on a busy Friday night.
I knew it was intended as rhetorical, but that didn’t stop its relevance from urging me to answer. “Maybe.” I shrugged helplessly. “But I’ve been thinking with my head for a long time, for as long as I can remember it being important, actually…”
Her eyes widened at my speech. She’d expected me to lessen the attention on us, but I was desperate. I saw at least four camera phones, and a whole lot more knowing faces, as a titter started to run through the restaurant about Dr. Neurotic.
As much as Will had been unfairly named, I had to admit, begrudgingly, of course, that they’d nailed me right on.
I grabbed a spare chair from the table behind me and took a seat.
“There’s never been an inner monologue weighing the options about whether to think analytically or to feel with emotion. It’s just been about the bottom line. Even when I broke up with you, it was a carefully calculated decision based on what I thought would be the consequences.”
She looked to the other guy she was sitting with, a hospital CEO she had been working with to recruit new physicians, thank fuck, but he graciously removed himself from consideration with a smirk and a lift of both hands.
I reached up and ran my fingers along the supple line of Charlotte’s jaw to turn her face back to me.
“Listen, Char.”
She huffed, knocking my hand off her jaw as she crossed her arms over her chest and lifted an eyebrow. “Fine.”
I bit my lip to stop from smiling, a reaction I didn’t think would go over very well, and moved on with my point.
“I made what I thought were rational choices. Black and white. But I didn’t consider the sickness I’d feel over the loss of you, or the absolute shitty troll of an ornery doctor I’d leave for my patients, or the depressed father I’d have left to offer my daughter.”
She shook her head as tears threatened. I moved in closer, but she shifted back, so I stopped. “We barely even knew each other,” she whispered, and my whole body revolted.
“I knew you. I know you. I know your hideous laugh and the best ways to get it, and the smell of your shampoo on my pillow. I know your playful spirit and professional shit-talking, and I know I’ll never be as good as you at trivia—and you’re awful. And I know you selflessly take the weight of your mistakes on your shoulders, keeping all the blame for yourself even if it isn’t deserved.”
Her jaw turned rigid as she fought the shake of her lips.
“And I know Winnie Winslow still misses you, after twelve years of silence and a bad break that should have ended it all. I know she doesn’t blame you for your history, and I know she couldn’t have handpicked someone better to add to our daughter’s life if she’d tried.”
“Nick…”
“And I know I love you.”
Digging into the depths of my chest pocket, my whole body tightened as my fingers met the velveteen fabric of the box.
I took only one solid breath, just long enough to see Charlotte’s body melt at my words, before taking it out and resting it on the table in front of me.
Several flashes lit the darkened ambiance of La Porro as the general public documented our very private moment. I only hoped the answer would save me at least the second half of the night’s embarrassment.
“Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
“It’s not a tiny version of Trivial Pursuit, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I teased with the levity of a bucket of lead. My comedic timing was severely compromised by my position on the precipice of the rest of my life, it seemed.
Charlotte shook her head slowly, and as the possibility of her saying no burned through me, I took the moment to memorize her face. Mysterious and teasing, her eyes were unlike any I’d ever encountered. I didn’t understand how they could feel so dark but hold all the light in the world at the same time. Her lips so perfect and peachy, right now in the tiniest of scowls, were normally the gateway for a loving and open smile that I couldn’t take my eyes off of.
I wanted to swim in her laugh and touch my tongue to her one minutely imperfect tooth, and I wanted to do it forever.
I watched intently as she closed her mouth and flattened the intense wrinkle in between her eyes. One shaky hand touched the top of the table lightly, skimming the surface of the white tablecloth in a zigzag pattern for what felt like an eternity until it finally skimmed the surface of the ring box.
She opened it so quickly, I was caught off guard. After the snail’s pace she’d taken before, I’d expected to be there for another thirty minutes before she worked up the nerve.
Her eyes glossed over, and I couldn’t help but explain.
It was crazy. Me. Taciturn and concise on an everyday basis, tonight, I couldn’t seem to shut up.
“It was my grandmother’s. I always thought it was a battle—head versus heart.”
I moved forward, scooting the chair out of the way and getting down on one knee, and gently brushed her hand to the side to pluck the ring f
rom its spot. Her sea-blue eyes followed me the whole way. “But it’s not. Life’s about both. You use your head to protect the ones in your heart. Nothing else matters.”
“I’m sorry,” Charlotte started.
My stomach dropped.
“But that’s the sappiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Her voice was dry with teasing and hearty with love, and I just about fell over as she took the ring from my fingers and slid it on her own.
“Answer this trivia for me,” she said. “What’s a three-letter word for I’d like to spend the rest of my life with you?”
“In this case?” I smiled. “I think you mean yes.”
Life was strange. Over a week ago, I’d been single, and if I was being honest, a complete sad sack. I hadn’t been able to get past my breakup with Nick. Every cell inside of my body had been screaming it was the most wrong thing that had ever happened.
I’d never felt that way about anyone. Not even Remy, after I’d backed out of the wedding.
But looking back on things from my present position—waiting for Nick, my fiancé, and his daughter Lexi to meet me at Cornerstone Tavern for Wednesday night trivia—it all made sense.
The heart wants what the heart wants, and my heart wanted Nick.
Hell, that little bitch had pretty much made my life a fucking mess after the breakup. But lucky for me, and thanks to Nick for taking that giant leap of faith and getting down on one knee in the middle of La Porro, my heart was happy. She’d get to keep the man of her dreams forever.
Yeah, life was definitely strange, but in this case, the weirdness was the best thing ever.
“Can I get you started with anything?” a female waitress with wild, curly red hair asked as she set down a bar menu and a fresh glass of water.
“There will be two more coming,” I updated. “And I’ll just have an iced tea while I wait for them. Thanks.”
“Here for the trivia?” she asked with a wink, and I nodded.
“Hell yeah.”
“May the odds ever be in your favor,” she teased with a grin, and I laughed. “I’ll be back in a few. My name is Patty, by the way. Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.” She set a few more menus on the table before moving to the table beside mine.