Everything She Ever Wanted: A Different Kind of Love Novel

by Liz Durano

  Harlow? Cold? Are they all blind? Some days I want to get on the first flight to JFK and find her. I want to pull her in my arms and tell her she’s not alone.

  So what the hell am I still doing in Flagstaff?

  But I also can’t do go ape-shit over the whole thing. That’s what lawyers are for. And if Cole’s firm is handling her case against the hospital, then Harlow’s in good hands. They know what they’re doing, and her silence is part of that strategy. If she does or says anything without legal advice or worse, against legal advice, it will only work against her. Just as it would do the same for me as well.

  But even as Cole is a lawyer, he’s also my friend. I’m just glad he’s not directly involved with Harlow’s case.

  “It’s a cluster-fuck, man. Just leave her alone for now,” is all Cole says when I call him tonight, hoping for a few answers. He could have said fancier words, all legal mumbo-jumbo to my ears, but the word he chooses is enough for me to understand how bad things really are.

  “Can you tell me one thing?” I ask as Cole groans. “Just one.”

  “It depends on what you want to know, man. My firm’s representing her so I can’t tell you much.”

  “Does she still have a career in New York after this… this cluster-fuck is over?”

  Cole exhales. “Let me put it this way, Dax, although I have to warn you that what I’m saying is strictly hearsay, nothing you’ve already read in the tabloids, and you and I know how reliable they can be, right?”

  “I know you can’t say anything official, man. But just humor me here, okay?”

  “She had an offer for a Director position at New Haven Hospital, and they just withdrew it. What does that tell you?”

  “She’s done.”

  “Pretty much, if the tabloids are to be believed. It’s unfair, but no matter what happens with the case, no one’s going to touch her now. Not around here. Not right now. Again, hearsay.”

  “Did she know this before she filed the claim against Miller Gen?”

  “She should have, but she also did it six months too late,” Cole replies. “Look, man, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t want you dragged into this thing any more than you already are being dragged into it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This one’s new, so you may not have heard of it yet, but you will soon. Gardner is now claiming that she’d been in Taos all this time… with some carpenter, no less. You. So don’t be surprised if your swanky showroom’s getting a bit more attention than usual.”

  My showroom has been getting more attention, and not from prospective customers as Miko, my manager, emailed me yesterday. She mentioned that there had been photographers outside, but she assumed that maybe I must have won some award that Dad forgot to include in the latest company email.

  “That’s a fucking lie, and you know it, Cole.” I really should have killed the bastard when I met him at the Pearl and buried him in the property. I’m sure the Villier brothers would have volunteered to help me do the job, too. “Five days, Cole. I was with her for five fucking days, not six months.”

  “Does it matter how long you were with her, Dax? What is important is that Gardner is using the court of popular opinion against her. And I’m not talking Twitter here, or Facebook. I’m talking about their friends… colleagues, neighbors, even patients. He’s not pulling any punches in that arena. He’s using you to taint her reputation even more than he already did with her emotional instability when they were married, and after their kid was born. And even if people do check the facts and prove him wrong later on, the damage has been done. You know how the people are, Dax. Shoot first, ask questions later. But while all that doesn’t mean anything in divorce court, add that to the talk that she was getting her kicks with you when she should have been defending her reputation back home, it’s a death sentence for any career, no matter how impressive. But she’ll bounce back—”

  “What about him?” I ask, controlling my temper the best I can. “He had an affair and even set a wedding date before the ink was dry on their divorce. Hell, it wasn’t even finalized.”

  “The wedding’s off.”

  I don’t even hear him, common sense taking over. “Of course, it’s off! He’s still married to Harlow!”

  “Dax, calm down. It’s off because the kid Leilani’s carrying isn’t his, and so he dumped her,” Cole says, and his words stop me cold. Kid. Harlow could be carrying my child, and if she is, how is this court of public opinion going to treat her then?

  “How come no one’s talking about that? All they’re doing is smearing Harlow’s reputation all over the place.”

  ”It’s not in the news because he violated HIPAA to find out, and it’s now up to the AMA to decide. That’s the American Medical Association for you.” Cole’s voice is serious now. “So even if Gardner isn’t playing fair right now by dragging your name into their mess, it won’t look good for him in the long run either.”

  “And Dad? It’s not just my name. It’s his, too.”

  “Your dad’s not happy, but he’ll be okay. But just like your lawyers have advised you in any case you’ve been involved in, it’s best to keep quiet and let us do the work. But really, do his clients care what the tabloids say? As long as he keeps making money for everyone and you do that thing you do and win your furniture awards, he’ll always be part of the old boys’ club… just like you and me some day.” Cole exhales. “Crap, I shouldn’t have told you anything—“

  But Dad and I surviving the court of public opinion is one thing, but Harlow is a whole different matter. “One more question, and I won’t bother you anymore.”

  “What is it?” Cole’s tone is wary, but he’s letting me continue.

  “How is she doing? How is Harlow holding up?”

  “That’s two questions, man. But honestly, I can’t tell you. I don’t know.”

  If one night alone at the Pearl had Harlow come face to face with her gun, what about now? Who’s got her back now that she’s caught in this whole grand mess? She doesn’t have any family. She doesn’t have anyone, not in New York. Shit, I should have called her sooner. I should have insisted on seeing her. “Come on, Cole, throw me a bone here.”

  “I already did. I told you more than I should be telling anyone.”

  “How do I get a hold of her? I’ve tried calling her office, but it’s like fucking Fort Knox over there. She’s never available, or they’re screening all her calls.”

  “I don’t know, man. I can’t—“

  “Cole, come on. Please.”

  Cole is quiet for a few moments. “Wow. You’re not even blackmailing me with the bath tub Millie ordered.”

  “It wouldn’t have been fair, man. She ordered it, not you.” I say although I pause, curiosity getting the best of me. Cole and I shoot the breeze every time I’m in New York, but that’s about it. Guys being guys, we don’t talk about things like love. “Can I ask you something personal?”

  “Sure.”

  “How did you know Millie was the one for you?”

  I hear Cole chuckle. “That’s easy. I couldn’t’ see myself with anyone else. Even when we broke up for a while. But your mom helped me make the decision when Dad and I visited you guys in Flagstaff just before she… well, before she passed away.”

  “What did she say?”

  “’So what’s it going to be, Cole? Fish or cut bait? That girl’s not gonna wait forever,’” he replies, his voice going higher as he tries to imitate Mama. “You know how much she loved to go fishing, so it was no surprise coming from her. She’d have gone along on our deep sea fishing trips if your dad had let her.”

  We laugh. “Nope, Dad saw The Perfect Storm, and that did it for him. He hates it when he can’t control anything, and any body of water is his nemesis.” Dad, ever the city man could never be a fisherman. Mom did a better job catching and cleaning whatever we caught. “You got Dad to a T, alright. But Mom loved him just the same.”

  We’re silent for
a few moments before Cole speaks. “You know he’s not seeing anyone. Not even after five years.”

  “He has lady friends.”

  “Yeah, but he’s all about his kids… especially you. He’s very proud of you, Dax. I just wish my dad were like yours, though.”

  It’s no secret that Alan Chambers is tough on his only son, sometimes too tough for my taste. He’s never praised Cole for anything, not even when he wins cases for the firm. There’s always a case bigger than the one he’d just won, another chance to prove to dear old dad that he’s good enough to earn the position of senior partner one day.

  “He’s proud of you, Cole. I see it.”

  “I’m glad someone does,” Cole says wryly. “Well, back to your problem, man. I figured, after all, this time, you’d have moved on. You normally move on pretty quickly.”

  That’s what I had thought, too, and God knows I did go out there and try to forget Harlow, hanging with the guys like I always did after work only to go home alone every night. It just didn’t feel right. “Guess I’ve decided to fish.”

  “Kathy Pleschette,” Cole says.

  “Who the hell is Kathy Pleschette?”

  “The next time you call Dr. James’ office, Kathy’s the one you need to ask for, Dax, my man. She’s the gatekeeper of Fort Knox. Your Fort Knox.”

  *

  It takes a few sparring rounds at the gym to work out all my frustrations, but it works. By the time I’m done, I’m a lot calmer and least likely to hurt anyone who crosses my path. Who I really want to beat is Jeff, but I know better than to let my fists do the talking, the way I did with Frank.

  The only reason Frank probably isn’t suing is that he doesn’t want to get dragged into the mess that his friend’s already in. And while Dad can take care of himself, I’m worried about Harlow, and how she’s faring with everything going on. Does she have anyone to turn to? What about the gun? Does she still have it? And as much as I’ve been telling myself that there’s no way Harlow would do what Madison did, it’s been six weeks since we slept together and I can’t help but wonder, would Harlow know by now if she’s pregnant?

  Would she tell me?

  Chapter 27

  Harlow

  Five test results saying the same thing surely can’t be wrong. Or can they?

  I rest the pregnancy strip on a hand towel spread out on the bathroom counter next to the other four I just did, their results clear as day. I’m honestly out of morning pee to test for the presence of hCG, the pregnancy hormone, although at this point, I doubt I need to do it again. I’ve run the same test the last three days and each day, the results are the same. Even the ones from the dollar store came out positive. Pink line, blue line, single line, double lines—they all say the same thing, just as I’m sure the blood test I took at my doctor’s office yesterday will say the same thing, too.

  I’m pregnant.

  That would make six weeks, and as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, one thing hits me. The one thing that I told myself would never happen—couldn’t happen even if I wished it would—has happened. I’m pregnant without having gone through any hormone therapy or in-vitro fertilization procedures. No one artificially implanted this fertilized egg into my uterus. This time, it took just one man and countless enthusiastic sessions to do the job.

  And a lie.

  As much as I denied it, I recognized the signs immediately—tender breasts that had me finally giving in and getting new bras two days ago, the fatigue that has me constantly yawning at the office, and the many trips to the bathroom. And then there’s nausea that continues to greet me at the oddest times during the day. It still does, though right now, as I slip back under the covers to collect my thoughts before getting dressed for work, I’m feeling fine. I just wish that everything else about my life was fine.

  Even though my divorce is winding down and I get the Hamptons property as part of the settlement, my intent to file a claim against the hospital has blown up to epic proportions. And it’s not even the case itself which is merely my intent to file one against them to contest the grounds for my dismissal. It’s how it’s affecting everything and everyone else in my life.

  If I had thought then that being shunned by our friends when Jeff filed for divorce eight months ago was bad enough, it’s nothing compared to how things are now. Burning bridges has never been more appropriate, although, in the professional world, it just means that fellow doctors are more wary to speak with me now, and friends just don’t want to be dragged into the mess even if they’ve called to make sure I’m fine. It doesn’t help that Jeff is spreading lies about Dax and me, claiming that I’d been shacked up with him in Taos all this time. Jeff knows it’s not true, but if it means that it will draw attention away from him and Leilani’s betrayal, then he’ll do anything.

  I wish I could do something—say something—but I have to pick my battles. And right now, the best recourse against Jeff is silence, just as my lawyers advise me. Besides, I still have a medical practice to run. I still see patients; any scandalous talk about me is the least of their concerns. What matters to them is the welfare of their child, most likely on dialysis while waiting for their small bodies to have enough room to accommodate the donor kidney which in most cases, comes from an adult relative or match. I also have research papers to finish. Thank goodness the latest studies on cardiovascular risk factors in pediatric renal transplant patients don’t stop for scandals either. As far as things go, this is my new normal.

  Still, there’s nothing normal about my new normal. I’m in uncharted waters, and while Old Harlow would have lost it a long time ago, her perfectly planned career going down in flames, New Harlow is unfazed. Well, almost. I finally started seeing a therapist on my own, twice weekly sessions that I now look forward to. I’ve kept everything bottled up for so long it feels good to let it out, even if my sessions are limited to an hour each time. I did take New Haven Hospital’s withdrawal of their offer a bit hard, but not too hard. It didn’t matter. Sure, it bruised my ego, but I’d always felt at the back of my mind that I wasn’t going to be happy doing the same thing again. Or maybe it was because the Senator warned me of their decision ahead of time when I attended Penny’s tenth birthday party in the Hamptons.

  Thank heaven for little blessings, but she’s been spared the news surrounding her favorite surgeon. As far as Penny is concerned, I’m still the angel who sat next to her after her surgery, holding her hand till morning because she asked me never to let go. I only let go when the Senator arrived the following morning, and from that moment on, he’s treated me like part of their extended family. But his patronage can only go so far. When it comes to my legal troubles, Senator Leon Kingston has to steer clear. The only statement his office has released is that he and his wife had personally hand-picked me for their daughter’s transplant over the leading surgeon, Jeff Gardner. “A personal choice based on Dr. James’ exceptional skill set, her impeccable surgical record, and her compassion for her young patients,” is the quote that the papers have chosen to run. And right now, that’s good enough for me.

  I can say this is all my fault. I should have remained silent and disappeared the way Jeff would have expected me to. But why should I? And why now after I’d found myself? So I got fired while I was on leave; so what? So I didn’t fight the termination the moment it arrived in my mailbox while I was away; so what? So I allegedly have been shacked up in some off-grid New Mexico love nest owned by a carpenter all this time; so fucking what?

  Only now, I’m pregnant with that carpenter’s child.

  I get out from under the covers and reach for a wooden box tucked under the bed. It’s got some weight to it, not just from the piece itself, but from the little treasures I’ve placed inside since I received it a few weeks ago. I pull out the handmade box built using Japanese joinery or sashimono from its hiding place and rest it on the bed next to me. I really shouldn’t hide it at all, not when it’s the work of a master craftsman, but I also don’t want it too
far from my favorite place in this tiny apartment, my bed. In the craziness of my current life, I like having a part of Dax close by, even if it’s just a box.

  But it’s not just any box. This one is pure perfection. Dax made it just for me and it’s breathtaking. With my finger, I trace the sun and moon carved in relief on the lid. It’s beautiful, and I’m so glad now that I didn’t turn it away. Pride almost made me tell the petite Japanese-American woman who delivered it to my clinic to take it back. But my heart won over, and I accepted it and unwrapped it in the privacy of my office. Then I bawled my eyes out at the beauty before me, at the exotic woodsy smell that brought everything back, of the perfection of the entire piece with its gorgeous lid that slid down to conceal the box beneath it without me needing to push it down. It brought back all the memories of Dax and the feeling of home whenever I was in his arms.

  As I lift the lid, I see the little mementos I collected during my long drive, though most of them come from New Mexico. There are small rocks I picked up during my walks around the Pearl, at Bandolier and the hot springs, even at Arroyo Seco where Dax said his mother taught them all how to fish, even his dad. There is also a smudge stick of sage and sweet grass that I bought from a shop at Taos Plaza, a reminder that the last six months of my life was a cleansing and a new beginning. Then there’s the message that Dax burned at the back of the lid, words that I’ve memorized from the first moment I read it. I trace the letters with my finger, imagining him hunched over the wood as he wrote out the words, his brow knitted in concentration.

  Did he mean every word?

  I bring the lid back down on the box and roll onto my back. For the next few minutes, I let myself sink into my body, forcing everything else out of my mind. I let my hand drift down my belly, my thoughts shifting to the life that’s stirring inside me. This time, I don’t feel any guilt for having done what I did, even though it took me forever to admit it to myself then. I lied to Dax about being on the pill, and now here I am, that lie blossoming into new life inside my belly.