Untouchable (Unexpected Love Book 1)

by Isabel Love

  Am I done? Is this really what I want to do? I can’t imagine being without her, but last night, watching her pretend to be with someone else, it hurt too much. I gather my dignity and go for broke. “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “I just need a little bit more time, Max. Don’t do this,” she pleads, coming to stand in front of me.

  I stand too, arms stiff at my sides as she grasps at my shirt to pull me to her. I look at her face, her beautiful hazel eyes wide with emotion. Her creamy skin is blotchy. Her gorgeous hair is tied back in a haphazard ponytail. She’s a mess—and yet, she’s still the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. My arms ache to pull her to me, to hold on tight and never let go, but I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t feel like I’m a problem to deal with. I clench my jaw as I grab hold of my resolve. “When you’re ready to be in a relationship, let me know.”

  “Are you serious right now?” Her eyes fill with tears and her chin trembles.

  “I can’t do this anymore. I deserve someone who is as proud to be with me as I am to be with her. You don’t want the complication of dealing with this at work, so let me uncomplicate it for you.”

  “By ending things?”

  “By giving you time to figure out what you want. I want everything with you, Monica. Do you want the same thing?”

  She blinks and the tears fall down her face. My own eyes burn as I watch her hesitate. She can’t tell me she wants the same thing, and that is all the answer I need.

  Leaning down, I place a kiss on her forehead and breathe her in. “Let me know when you want everything, too.”

  Then I do the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I walk out of her kitchen while she starts to cry. My legs carry me out of her house and to my bike in her driveway. Pedaling at least gives me something to focus on other than my heart breaking, and I ride home without even seeing my surroundings. Maybe it takes 30 minutes, maybe five, but the next thing I know, I’m home. I lock up my bike and make my way up to my apartment.

  When I step inside, I look around, clueless as to what I’m supposed to do now. My stomach turns at the thought of eating. Fuck this. All I want to do is drive back to Monica’s and beg her to change her mind, beg her to pick me, but I can’t do it. So, I undress, take a fast shower, and go to bed. This day needs to end. Maybe tomorrow won’t suck as much as today did.

  Then I think of going to work tomorrow and seeing Monica there. Or maybe she’ll call off again so she doesn’t have to face me. I’m not sure which option I like better.

  Well, she’s an idiot.

  Monica

  The thought of going to work this morning fills me with more dread than it did yesterday. I didn’t know that was even possible, but it is. I have no idea if Max is on the schedule. I debate feigning a stomach bug and staying home again, but I’m going to have to work with him eventually. I might as well get it over with today.

  His toothbrush mocks me from my bathroom counter. Just a couple days ago, the signs of Max around my house made me happy. Now, each object is a painful reminder of his absence. How could things have gotten so fucked up so fast?

  I knew hiding our relationship at work was bothering him, but I didn’t expect him to give me that ultimatum. I want to call him and tell him I’ll do anything he wants if he’ll just come over and hug me, but then I think of what Max wants—a conversation with Dr. Finley about my love life—and I know I’m an absolute coward. The bagel I eat for breakfast tastes terrible and gets stuck in my throat, or maybe it just can’t get past the lump that has taken up permanent residence in my throat since yesterday.

  On my way into the building, I spot Max’s bike on the rack and my heart squeezes at the sight. He’s definitely here. I’m still surprised he has the inclination to ride a bike to work when he has a car. He joked that biking keeps him in shape. Half of me can’t wait to lay eyes on him and be near him today; the other half wants to tuck tail, turn around, and go back home. I’m still such a mess inside, and I have no idea how I’m going to keep it together when I see him.

  You can do this, Monica. I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and head into the building. After stowing my things in my office, I make my way to the ER. I hold my head high and force my arms away from my midsection. It feels like my guts are scattered and I need to physically hold them in place to keep from falling apart, but walking around hunched over with my arms hugging my midsection makes me look too much like the heartbroken woman I am. Look normal, Monica, act normal.

  Piece of cake.

  The ER is pretty quiet right now and I try to slip by unnoticed. I sit at a workstation and catch up on my missed emails from yesterday while I wait for a patient to show up. So far so good. I can do this.

  The first email is from one of the doctors with a research topic idea. As director, I need to sign off on research ideas before they can get approval and have funds allocated to their project. I welcome the distraction and read through the proposal. It’s a good topic and I tell the doctor so. Next, I have an email from Caleb asking me to go to lunch this week. Crap. I do not want to see him at all. I skip that one and look to the next. It’s an email from Simone asking me why I disappeared Saturday night at the fundraiser. Ugh. My head starts to throb as I look through the next few emails. I respond to the work-related messages and shelve Caleb’s and Simone’s for now.

  Then I feel it—someone looking at me. The back of my neck feels hot. I glance to the side to see if someone else is sitting at the nurse’s station and sure enough, Max is there. He looks away and stares at the computer screen in front of him, and I turn back to my own screen just as quickly. My heart gallops into overdrive. How is it that he is the first person I encounter today? I try to slow my breathing, but it’s no use. He can probably hear my heartbeat from where he’s sitting.

  Should I talk to him? What the heck would I even say? Good morning seems like a good place to start, but I can’t force the words out. So, I sit here like the chicken shit that I am.

  Luckily, Kevin comes up to the counter in front of me. “Hi, Dr. Morgan,” he greets.

  “Morning, Kevin,” I muster. My voice is not as loud or strong as I’d hoped it would be, but it will have to do.

  Kevin proceeds to tell me about my first patient and I try to remain focused, but all I can think about is Max sitting behind me. I ask a few questions, try to look normal, and go to evaluate the patient. As I turn to head toward the patient’s exam room, my eyes involuntarily go to Max. God, he looks good. His thick dark hair is tousled in that careless way that looks so appealing. His blue eyes contrast against his dark hair, making them appear brighter. I could drown in those eyes. And his lips…those full, soft lips that have been all over my body. I want to see them stretch into that knowing, playful grin he gives just to me.

  Every cell in my body screams to go to him. The attraction I feel for him today is no less intense because we’re broken up. He must feel my stare because he turns to look at me. For one second, I see my Max. He scans my eyes, my face, my lips. A look full of longing and regret passes through his expression before it shutters closed. Then a carefully blank expression, devoid of his typical warmth, stares back at me, making me think I imagined the emotions I just saw.

  I hate this blank face.

  He nods briefly at me. “Good morning, Dr. Morgan,” he says. His tone is all business, as if he’s just talking to a colleague—which, I suppose, is all I am to him now.

  I hate this impersonal tone.

  I hate everything about this moment. It’s all wrong. The way he’s looking at me. The way he’s talking to me. The distance that stretches between us despite being only a couple feet apart.

  I hate it all.

  Tears burn at the back of my eyes but I refuse to fall apart at my first look at him. I clench my jaw, give him a brief nod, and walk to the exam room with purpose.

  This sucks.

  Tony knocks on my door as I’m getting ready to leave. I can’t believe I’ve survived this shit
day and I’m anxious to get out of this place and go home.

  “Hey, Monica,” he says.

  “What can I do for you, Tony?” I ask without looking up. I’ve held my emotions in check all day, but they are dangerously close to the surface. If I don’t make my escape right now, I may break apart.

  “I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to you at the fundraiser. Did Max rescue you from Caleb?”

  At the sound of Max’s name and this question, I almost drop my bag. I feel my eyes go wide as I ask, “What?” I’m probably hearing things.

  “I sent him to come rescue you when Caleb was ushering you onto the dance floor. It looked like you didn’t want to dance with him so I told Max to tell you we got a page from the ER. Did it work?”

  I blink rapidly, trying to keep my face neutral as the memories assault me. Max approaching us on the dance floor then taking me back to that office. His hands on me as soon as the door closed, him telling me I was his.

  Not trusting my voice, I nod and try to force my lips into some semblance of a smile. He tilts his head and studies me. Shit. I’m not a very good actress.

  “Hey, are you okay?” he asks quietly.

  I look down at my purse, studying the contents as if they have extremely valuable information. I’ve already packed everything I need, but I keep shuffling things around to look too preoccupied to make eye contact. “Of course. Did you and Heidi have fun?”

  “Monica, we’ve worked together a long time.” Fuck, I do not like where this conversation is headed.

  “Close to 10 years.” It has been a long time.

  “Yes. I’ve known you since you were in medical school and I’ve admired your ambition. You’ve had to hold on tight to your professionalism and it’s taken 10 years for you to finally loosen up.”

  Uhhh, what? “Excuse me?”

  “I hope I’m not out of line by saying all of this, but it has been a pleasure working with you these last couple of months—not that it wasn’t before, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that you were so…stiff.”

  “Stiff?” I repeat dumbly.

  He smiles kindly at me and nods. “I know you haven’t always been a fan of my antics, but I like to have fun at work. Recently, you’ve gone from a stickler for the rules to actually participating in pranks and joking with the staff. I’ve never seen you so happy.”

  I look away. I was happy.

  “I was hoping the cause of that happiness was Max.”

  Shit. He totally knows. He must see my alarmed expression because he raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, it’s cool if that’s not the reason, but I can tell something is off between the two of you today. You don’t have to tell me about it, but I hope you guys work it out. He’s good for you.”

  My legs are no longer able to keep me standing, so I sit down in my chair with a plop and rub my face tiredly. “Am I that obvious?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Then how did you guess?” I wonder.

  “Just a hunch.”

  Huh.

  “That and I saw you guys in the break room kissing one day.”

  “What?!” I cringe and bury my face in my hands. “Tony, I’m so sorry! That was so inappropriate!” Oh, my god! I rack my brain trying to think of when Max and I kissed in the break room—it was only that very first time. I had no idea anyone even came in the room; I am so embarrassed.

  He chuckles. “Relax, Monica. It was a relief to see a human side of you. You’re always such a machine at work. I was happy for you. Max is a good guy.”

  I spread my fingers and peek at him. He smiles wide. I shut my fingers again and hide my face. “I can’t believe you saw us so long ago and never said anything.”

  “What was there to say? It wasn’t my business, and besides, it seemed like you guys were keeping it under wraps.”

  “Of course we were keeping it under wraps. It was so inappropriate for us to date to begin with!”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “What does that mean? Because you work together?”

  “Well, yeah! I’m the director—I can’t date a nurse in my department!” I splutter.

  “I don’t think this is as big of an obstacle as you think it is. Have you talked to Finley?”

  Just the mention of Dr. Finley makes me wish the ground would swallow me up. “No.” I sigh. “But he knows we were dating. He saw us leave the fundraiser together. I’m just waiting for him to come talk to me about it.”

  “Were dating? Did you guys break up?”

  “Yes.”

  “I hope it isn’t because of work.”

  “I’d rather not get into this with you, Tony. I’ll be a blubbering pile of tears in about five seconds, and I’m guessing that’s more human than you want to witness from me.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll let you go, but I think you should call Finley and talk to him about it. You might be surprised with what he has to say.”

  Nooo, thank you. That’s a conversation I’m hoping to avoid for as long as I can. “Have a good night.”

  “Night, Monica. I’m here if you need to talk.”

  “Thank you.”

  My feet can’t move fast enough to carry me out of here. This day needs to end.

  Max

  Charlie: What's your ETA? I’ll be there in 15 mins.

  Me: I’m not coming tonight.

  Logan: Fuck that. Get your ass over here.

  Charlie: The lord commander has spoken. Get your ass over here.

  Me: I’m not fit for public viewing.

  Logan: What does that even mean?

  Charlie: It means he’s crying like a little girl. Dude. This is pathetic. Throw on some clothes and get over here.

  Me: You guys sure know how to make me feel better.

  Charlie: We aren’t trying to make you feel better. We just want to get you drunk and laid.

  Me: Not happening.

  Logan: If you aren’t at O'Malley's in 15 minutes, we’re coming to your house.

  Charlie: And I may decide to bring strippers over. Because I’m a good friend.

  Me: You can't make me open the door.

  Charlie: I have a spare key, remember?

  Fucking hell. The last thing I want to do tonight is meet up with the guys for happy hour. My plans included sleeping, maybe watching a horror movie, and maybe I'd get a little crazy and order a pizza. I definitely do not want to shower, change, and go out, but I also don’t want to call Charlie’s bluff. History has proven that he does not bluff. He’s likely to actually show up with strippers and I’m in no mood to deal with his shenanigans.

  I look around my bedroom at the mess that has collected. It has been six days since I ended things. Six days of working with her and treating her like any other co-worker. Six days since I touched her. Six days of questioning my sanity.

  Is it really that big of a deal to hide our relationship at work? I want to call her and tell her I was wrong, tell her it’s not that important to me.

  But then I remember that she didn’t even want to introduce me to her dad as her boyfriend. I was a co-worker, and that feeling sucked.

  Which brings me back to my miserable, smelly self. Without needing to go to work today, there was no reason to shower or get out of my sweats, for that matter. Dirty dishes are piled up in the sink and on the kitchen table. This place needs some attention, but I have zero motivation to clean up.

  I decide that a beer and a burger from O’Malley’s doesn’t sound half bad.

  Me: Don’t come here. I'll be there in 30.

  Logan: We’ll have alcohol waiting.

  30 minutes later, after showering and putting on clean clothes, I walk into O’Malley’s and Shirley points me to the back table.

  “Look who decided to grace us with his presence,” Charlie comments as I take a seat at the table.

  “Fuck you.” I’m in no mood for their shit tonight.

  “And he’s especially grumpy,” Logan observes.

  “Look, I would have rather stayed home tonigh
t, but you guys wanted me to come out, so don’t say I didn’t try to avoid subjecting you to my bad attitude.” The pitcher of beer calls my name so I grab it and start to pour myself a glass.

  “Wow, you look like shit,” Charlie says bluntly.

  “Thank you, asshole.”

  “Drink up, buddy. I’m paying tonight,” Logan says.

  “Why? Because you pity me?”

  “Will you punch me if I say yes?”

  “Maybe.” I drain my glass in five seconds then hold it out for a refill.

  Logan signals to the bartender to bring us another pitcher of beer. “You want food too, or just alcohol poisoning?”

  “Food, too.” If I get alcohol poisoning, I’ll have to go to the ER, and it would be just my luck that Monica would have to deal with me and see what a pathetic mess I am.

  “Shirley, can you bring Max a burger and fries?” Logan calls out to her.

  “No problem, sweetheart,” Shirley hollers back.

  I take a few sips of my second beer and set it down in front of me. The beer is still cold and I stare at the condensation on the glass as if it is fascinating. Both Charlie and Logan are staring at me, but I really don’t want to talk about it. What is there to say anyway? I found love, it was amazing, and I lost it. Life was wonderful for a little while and now it sucks.

  End of story.

  “I take it there’s trouble in paradise?” Charlie points out the obvious.

  “You really want to talk about my feelings?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

  “Not particularly,” he replies honestly. “But I am wondering what the fuck happened. You guys were all lovey-dovey the last time I saw you. How did you go from Relationship Road to Dumpster Avenue?”

  “She wanted to hide our relationship at work. I’m sure Tate told you about the fundraiser.” I look at Logan for confirmation, and he nods.

  Charlie glances at Logan, leans toward him, and does a bad job of whispering, “I forget, am I not supposed to know about that?”