Untouchable (Unexpected Love Book 1)

by Isabel Love

  The cool air feels good on my overheated skin. As soon as we stop outside, I turn to face Monica and pull her into my arms. “Are you okay?” Her eyes are shut and she won’t look at me. I rub her back gently. “I’m sorry that just happened the way it did.” I am sorry, but at the same time, a part of me is relieved that we don’t have to hide anymore. It’s finally out in the open. If Dr. Finley knows, we can finally face the music, get hospital policy, and figure out how to navigate it.

  “Can you take me home?” she whispers.

  “Sure, let me just text Tate to let her know I’m leaving.”

  Me: Hey, we had a bit of a scene with Monica’s dad.

  Tate: Oh no! Everything ok?

  Me: The cat is out of the bag.

  Tate: I gather it didn’t go well.

  Me: She wants to leave. You want to come with?

  Tate: Take care of your girl. I’ll catch a ride with Simone.

  Me: Thanks, Tate.

  “Okay, Tate will get a ride with Simone. Let’s go.” We walk to my car and I feel Monica withdrawing from me. When we get to my car, I reach for her. “Baby, what can I do?” She hasn’t said much since we left, and it worries me.

  “I’m sorry,” she mutters, still not meeting my eyes. “I just need to get out of here.”

  I hate the distance between us. I hate the wall she’s putting up. I hate the way she’s hugging herself instead of hugging me. I hate everything about this moment.

  She is as untouchable as when I first discovered she is my boss’s boss. “Okay. I’ll take you home.”

  Fuck. My. Life.

  Monica

  The day after the fundraiser, I do something I haven’t done since I became a physician: I stay home and pretend to be sick. Cowardice has gotten the best of me. I don’t want to face anyone after the shit show last night. I can’t even bring myself to actually call in, instead, I send out a group email to the docs covering the ER. The scenes keep replaying in my mind on a loop. Max and I having sex in the empty office. Dr. Finley and my dad leaving the ballroom at the exact moment we were walking down the hall. Mrs. Ramos, of all people, shouting about how Max and I can’t keep our hands off each other. My father humiliating me. And, the icing on the cake, Dr. Finley witnessing everything with a front row seat.

  What a clusterfuck.

  I stay in bed late into the day, skipping breakfast and lunch. My stomach is so queasy from stress, I can’t imagine eating. I turn over, burying my face in my pillow. The scent of Max is on my sheets and I inhale deeper. Was it just 24 hours ago that Max and I made love and said the words out loud to each other? Yesterday went from the highest high to the lowest low.

  I don’t even want to know what Dr. Finley is thinking right now. What was I doing, starting this thing with Max? I am not strong enough to handle this public attention. Maybe some people can go into work and not give a shit what other people think about them, but I’m not one of them.

  I don’t want the board of directors to know I fell in love with a nurse working in my department. I don’t want them to know we go out dancing and grope each other in public. I don’t want them to know any of it. Is that so bad?

  My reaction to last night’s drama hurt Max, but I couldn’t control it. I was mortified. His concern was etched into his face and I know he wanted to comfort me, to hold me and tell me everything would be okay. I’m afraid it won’t be okay, though. I’m afraid Max deserves someone better than me. Someone stronger. Someone who will put him first. Am I willing to put Max first? To change jobs if I need to? It’s just too early in our relationship to make that kind of a decision. If I need to choose between Max and my job, I’m not 100% sure what my decision will be.

  My stomach churns at the thought of breaking up with Max. How could I look into his gorgeous blue eyes and tell him I choose work over him? I can’t even fathom never feeling his touch again, never being held in his arms again—no, I don’t want that. That would be ridiculous.

  But what if Dr. Finley says I have to resign? Not only am I the youngest director at the hospital and one of the only female directors, I’ve worked at this hospital since medical school. I love my job. How could I throw all of that away for a man?

  The sound of the doorbell makes me move faster than I have all day. I jump out of bed and look out the window. A sleek black car sits in my driveway and my father is on my doorstep.

  Fuck. My. Life.

  On the way to the door, a mirror shows me that I am still in my pajamas with wild bed head. Whatever. He is here unannounced and uninvited. I’m sick and tired of trying to measure up to whatever standards he has for me. This imperfect version of myself is who he gets today.

  I open the door, not hiding my annoyance at his unexpected visit. His nostrils flare as he takes in my unkempt appearance. I lean against the door jamb and stare back at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “You left last night.” He has the audacity to look disappointed.

  “Did you expect me to stay?”

  “I didn’t expect you to leave.” He sighs. “May I come in?”

  Resigned, I step aside to let him pass and close the door behind him. He scans my house, looking for what, I’m not sure. “Is he here?”

  “No, Max isn’t here.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, a weak attempt at defending myself against what he’s going to say next. Then I get angry at myself. He was in the wrong last night, on many counts. I’m not going to let him come into my house and make me feel bad. “Dad, I am really upset with you,” I start.

  “Are you? Well, I’m upset with you, too. What are you upset about?”

  “First of all, you can’t speak for me as director. What you were doing with Caleb last night was completely out of line.”

  He meets my eyes and nods in acknowledgment. It’s not exactly an apology, but it’s something. I’m not done yet.

  “More importantly, though, you have to stop trying to manipulate me into doing what you want me to do. I’m an adult.” I start ticking items off on my fingers. “No more throwing your weight around as a physician in my department. You don’t even work for the same hospital! Would you ever dare do that with a different director?” My voice rises with my temper, but there’s more to say and I don’t give him a chance to answer me. “No more setting me up with dates, or trying to dress me with your personal shopper, or buying me cars. I need you to stop all of it.” I’m out of breath with the effort it took to say all of that, but damn, it feels good to get that off my chest.

  “Are you done?” His acerbic tone cuts into me, just like it did when I was a little girl.

  I try to think of anything else I want to add while I have the guts. “One more thing—what is your problem with me dancing?”

  His nostrils flare in disgust. “You need to focus on your career. It is an honor to be director of your department at such a young age. Do you honestly think you should risk that by acting like some floozy going to clubs, taking salsa lessons, and dating a nurse that works with you?”

  “I know it’s an honor to be director, I’m the one that works all the long hours that go along with having such a position.”

  “So don’t throw it all away for some piece of trash that is just using you for your money.”

  “Max is not a piece of trash,” I defend. No way am I going to let him talk about him that way. “He is not after me for my money.”

  “Did you hire him before or after you slept with him?”

  “Excuse me?” What the fuck? Did he really just say that? My blood pressure steadily rises as this conversation continues.

  “You heard me. My guess is he seduced you to try to get a job. People like him, people who don’t come from money—they’ll do anything they can to get ahead in life.”

  “You have no idea what the fuck you are talking about,” I fire back.

  “Nice language.”

  “You are in my house. Your rules don’t apply here, Dad. Not that any of this is your business, but Max and I met bef
ore we knew we worked together. He was already hired by the hospital. I don’t hire the nurses personally; I’m not even a part of the interview process—HR and the nursing department handle that.” I’m fuming.

  “Let me guess, you met at a club.”

  “So what if we did?”

  “What kind of people do you think frequent clubs?” His voice drips with condescension. “Trashy people, that’s who. College-aged kids looking to get laid, not well-respected physicians.”

  I hate that this is exactly how I’ve felt—that it was inappropriate for me to go out dancing. I think of the night Max and I met and how I let him touch me on the dance floor. Last night, I let him fuck me at the fundraiser. Shame floods my system, making me feel like the trash he’s talking about.

  “Max did not sleep with me to get me to hire him,” I say with absolute certainty. I know with all my heart this much is true. The fight is draining out of me and I just want him to leave.

  “Regardless, you know that it was inappropriate for you to continue to date him once you discovered he was a nurse in your department. It would serve you right to be fired over this.” I flinch, afraid of this very thing happening. “I have been trying to give you guidance. You need to date someone in your own social circle. You need a car fit for a director. You need to dress the part, too. I thought you had grown out of making bad decisions after your mother died. You cleaned up your act and focused on school and got a good job, but now I see you continue to make one bad decision after another. You need to cut out all the garbage from your life and act like a respectable professional or else you will never be treated like one.”

  “Are you kidding me? Ever since Mom died we have had absolutely no relationship. She was the glue that held us together and now she’s gone. Giving me guidance by pushing your expectations on me is much different than being a father. I needed you! But you have always been more concerned about image than happiness. I am done!” I pant, emotion clogging my throat. A meltdown is approaching and I can’t do this with him anymore. “I need you to leave.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Please leave my house. I don’t need your guidance and I don’t need your respect. You certainly don’t have mine.” I walk to my front door and hold it open, looking down at the floor. My hands are shaking, I’m so upset, but I refuse to cry in front of him. I refuse to let him see how much this hurts.

  He walks out of my house without another word, gets in his rental car, and leaves.

  I go to my room, fall on my bed, and sob into my pillow like I did as a teenager. Now, more than ever, I miss my mom. I wish I could ask her what to do about Max, feel her arms around me in a hug—she gave the best hugs. Fighting with my dad is nothing new, but he has never outright told me he thinks I act like a whore.

  And I have never kicked him out of my house after going off on him.

  The fact that he left without fighting to salvage our relationship makes me realize we don’t have any relationship left to salvage. Underneath the little girl who is disappointed in her father, I know I will be better off without him in my life.

  I just wish it didn’t hurt so much.

  Max

  I can’t say I was surprised to learn that Monica called in sick today. I’m not even a little surprised she hasn’t responded to my text messages. What surprises me is how angry I am. Last night, I was resigned to her pulling away from me. Today, I am pissed that she can shut me out so easily.

  Fuck that.

  Work passes slowly. I have never seen Dr. Finley in the ER before and today is no different. He doesn't strike me as the kind of guy to gossip, so I don't have to deal with any whispers or strange glances. Other than a curious gaze from Rosetti—who I manage to avoid—it is business as usual.

  Finally, my shift ends and I head over to Monica's house. We need to talk and I refuse to let her give me the silent treatment. I text her to let her know I'm on my way but get no response. My irritation fuels my pedaling power as I ride my bike to her house. I park in her driveway and ring the doorbell. It feels odd to do this as she has given me her security code to get in through the garage, but given the circumstances, I can’t just barge in. She opens the door in her pajamas, eyes red-rimmed and face splotchy. The sight of her upset makes me want to take her in my arms and soothe her, but I’m upset, too.

  “Hi,” she says, looking sad.

  “Can I come in?” She opens the door wider and nods for me to enter. “Are you okay?” I ask her as we walk to her kitchen and sit at the island.

  She shrugs. “I just couldn’t go into work today,” she admits, avoiding my eyes.

  “And what about responding to my texts? You couldn’t do that either?” My tone is sharper than I intended and she looks up at me, surprised.

  “I’m sorry, my phone must be dead. I haven’t heard any alerts go off today.”

  “You didn’t think about getting in touch with me to let me know you called in sick?”

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  “Look, Monica, I know you’re upset about last night, but it isn’t the end of the world. There are worse things that could happen other than Dr. Finley finding out we’re dating.”

  “It isn’t your reputation or job on the line so I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “Are you serious right now? Is your job on the line?” Did she get in trouble and that’s why she stayed home?

  “I honestly don’t know, but I’m afraid it might be.”

  “So what if it is? What if Dr. Finley calls you tomorrow and says you have to either stop dating me or resign? What would you do?” My heart is beating so fast I can hear it. This is a question I've never asked before because I have no idea what the answer is. She can crush me with her response, but I need to know where we stand. Just yesterday she told me she loves me. What good is love if she is ashamed of me? Do the last couple months together mean as much to her as they do to me?

  “I don’t know, Max. You can’t expect me to resign from my job. I’m the director of the department!”

  “I know exactly what your job is, Monica. I would never ask you to resign to be with me, but if they approached me and gave me the same options, I would resign and get another job. I’m in love with you! I like my job, but it's not as important to me as you are.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve only been working as a nurse for a couple months! There are a ton of nursing jobs available, and I’m sure you’d get a new job in no time.”

  “So what you’re saying is that my job is expendable but yours isn’t?” I fire back.

  “No. That’s not what I mean.” She hugs her midsection and looks away from me.

  “The fact that you were too scared to face work today makes me feel like you are ashamed to be with me. Am I only good enough to date in secret, but not in public?” This is what it all boils down to—am I enough for her?

  “No, Max, that’s not what I said. You’re putting words in my mouth.” This doesn’t do much to reassure me.

  “What if I was a doctor like Colin?”

  “Caleb,” she corrects.

  “Whatever. What if I was a doctor? Would you still be hesitant to tell your co-workers?”

  “It wouldn’t be the same. I’m not Caleb’s boss.”

  “So the only way you could be comfortable with our relationship is if you weren’t my boss?” I clarify.

  “Max, I don’t know what you want me to say here. Working together complicates things, you know that. You’ve known how I feel about that from the beginning.” She is exasperated.

  “Here’s what I know.” I gather my thoughts. Looking into her eyes, I tell her, “I never thought I could date someone like you, someone so successful and wealthy, because I have struggled so much in my life to get to where I am, but I met you that first night without knowing any of that, and I was drawn to you. Not the doctor. Not the bank account. You. I can’t deny that being around you at work and seeing what a wonderful doctor you are made me more attrac
ted to you, but that was only because I got to see another facet of you. I am in love with you.

  “I understand that you are in a position of management over me and that it makes everything complicated, but it is what it is. This is me. I’m a nurse. My mom is a housekeeper and a waitress. I help pay her rent and for my sisters’ college education. I just graduated at 25 years old. I furnished my tiny apartment with things from Target.” I hold my arms out next to me. “This is me, and I’m in love with you. I won’t be able to buy you expensive jewelry or take you on a vacation to Italy anytime soon, but I will do my best to make you happy.”

  “You know I don’t need expensive jewelry or exotic vacations to be happy,” she says.

  “I believe that.” I nod. “Do you love me?”

  “Yes,” she answers, eyes steady on mine.

  “Do you love me enough to stop hiding our relationship and ask Dr. Finley what the repercussions of us dating are?”

  She looks away. “We are bound to find out the repercussions at this point, whether we want to or not.”

  “What if we went to him tomorrow to ask him how to navigate our relationship at work so everyone is comfortable?”

  She sighs. “I’d rather not.”

  “You can’t keep treating me like I’m your dirty little secret. It makes me feel like you aren’t proud to be with me, like I’m not good enough for you,” I croak, baring my vulnerability.

  “That is not how I feel, Max. Maybe I’m just not strong enough to deal with this! I don’t want everyone at work to know my personal business, is that so bad?” Her voice rises with emotion and I flinch.

  “Well, I’m not pretending anymore,” I say, steel lacing my words.

  “What does that mean, exactly?” She looks at me warily.

  “If you want to be with me, be with me. 100% of the time. I want all or nothing.” I have reached the end of my rope and I can’t continue things as they are.

  “So if I’m not comfortable exposing our relationship at work, you’re done?” she asks, eyes wide open, face flushing red.