First Crush

by Linda Seed

  She got to the hospital, parked in the physicians’ parking lot, grabbed the coat and hospital ID she kept in the trunk of her car, and suited up.

  Candace McLain was in the pediatric unit recovering from dehydration as a result of salmonella poisoning. Bianca didn’t normally monitor her patients who were hospitalized—the pediatricians on staff did that—but what would it hurt to pop in?

  When she poked her head into Candace’s room, the thirteen-year-old was sitting up in bed reading a John Green book. Her mother, a cute, energetic brunette in her thirties, was sitting in the visitor’s chair tapping something into her laptop.

  The woman smiled brightly when she saw Bianca. “Dr. Russo! I didn’t expect to see you today. Candace is feeling better. Aren’t you, sweetie?”

  Candace lowered her book. “Yeah. I really am. Can I go home? Please?”

  Bianca had reviewed the girl’s chart before coming in. “You’re out of danger, but your electrolytes aren’t what I’d like to see. It wouldn’t hurt to stay a little longer.” Bianca used her gentle, motherly voice, trying not to sound like she was scolding the girl. After all, Bianca could imagine how much it sucked to be stuck in a hospital bed when all you really wanted was to be hanging out with your friends.

  “I hate it here.” Candace’s blue eyes shimmered with tears. “It’s boring. And the food’s bad. And the kid next door keeps crying really loud.”

  “She does.” Gina, Candace’s mother, wrinkled her nose and nodded. “Poor thing. I think she’s in a lot of pain.”

  Bianca wondered if it had been a mistake to come—on top of feeling shitty about everything that had happened with TJ, now she felt guilty that Candace couldn’t go home.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to go home today. I’m glad you’re feeling better, but we should play it safe.” Bianca gave the girl a reassuring smile.

  Candace scowled and picked up the book.

  Bianca left the room, and Gina followed her and stopped her in the hall. “Dr. Russo?”

  Bianca turned to look at her.

  “I just want to tell you how much I appreciate you checking on Candace. With doctors, it’s easy to feel … overlooked. That isn’t to say …”

  Bianca reached out, squeezed Gina’s hand, and released it. “I know what you mean.”

  It hurt to feel that you were not being seen—especially when you were a teenager. Bianca knew that as well as anyone.

  He didn’t even know I was in the play.

  That might have hurt even more than TJ saying he was just playing with her. She’d been there all along, loving him, and he hadn’t even seen her.

  After Bianca had checked on Candace, she had no further excuse to hang around the hospital. She could honestly say that after she’d rushed off, she’d come to look in on a patient.

  Now, she didn’t know what to do with herself. She didn’t want to go home, in case TJ or one of her sisters might be there. And she didn’t want to be quiet and still, because that would allow the feelings to come rushing in and drown her.

  She went to the hospital’s neonatal unit to look at the newborns, thinking that might make her feel better, but it made her feel worse. The tiny, squirming infants represented all that Bianca longed for but didn’t have.

  She’d go to her office—that’s what she would do. There was always paperwork to catch up on, always phone calls to return or supplies to order.

  She was on her way out the front door when she heard a voice behind her.

  “Bianca?”

  She turned to see Peter standing by the vending machines in the lobby with a dollar in his hand.

  “Oh. Peter.”

  Talking to him was the last thing she wanted to do. She didn’t need him adding to her emotional burden by acting judgmental and hurt. Only he didn’t seem hurt, and he didn’t seem angry.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you here today,” he said mildly.

  “Just … checking on a patient.”

  “Me too—I’ve got one recovering from a colostomy and another going in for a tumor resection. Stepped out here to get a granola bar, but the damned machine won’t take my money.”

  To demonstrate, he slid the dollar into the slot on the machine, only to have it spit back out at him.

  “We could go across the street and have coffee,” Bianca suggested. She wasn’t sure why she’d said it. Maybe because Peter seemed almost friendly today, and she needed someone to be friendly to her. Maybe because she needed to talk to someone about anything other than TJ. Or maybe because, if she really needed to listen to her brain in making sensible choices for herself, she could do worse than Peter DeVries.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ve got a little time.”

  At the café across the street from the hospital, Peter ordered a gluten-free, high-fiber muffin, and Bianca had a cup of herbal tea. Her instinct was to get a chocolate croissant and stuff it into her mouth until she was so loaded on sugar and carbs she couldn’t feel her face anymore, but she reminded herself that she was being sensible.

  She was being smart.

  “So, how are things going with that Davenport guy?” Peter asked when they were settled at a table.

  Damn it. How had she thought he wouldn’t ask?

  “Wait a minute.” She got up, went back to the counter, and got a chocolate croissant. If she was going to talk about this, she was going to be under the influence of sugar when she did it.

  One croissant, a cup of herbal tea, and a frothy coffee drink later, Bianca had told Peter the essentials of what had happened: how she’d thought things were going well with TJ, how TJ had dismissed their relationship to his mother, and how Lily had been rude and dismissive from the moment Bianca had crossed her threshold.

  “I’m stupid,” she said at last, when she’d revealed all of the relevant details. “And I shouldn’t even be telling you any of this. We broke up. I broke up with you. I can’t expect you to … to listen and comfort me about my disasters with other men.”

  “That’s true,” Peter said. “Not the part about you being stupid. But the part about expecting me to comfort you. You hurt me, Bianca.”

  “I’m sorry. I just didn’t think … It didn’t seem like we were compatible.”

  “I don’t know why not.” Peter looked down at the table, where the gluten-free crumbs from his muffin were scattered. “You want, what? Marriage? Children? I want those things, too. It seems to me we’re more compatible than you realize.”

  What he was saying made sense. Maybe Peter hadn’t been a lot of fun, but how much fun was she having now? How much fun was it to be told you were nothing but a distraction, a pleasant way to kill some time?

  Fun was overrated.

  “If I hurt you, I’m sorry.” Bianca didn’t want anyone to feel the way she was feeling now, didn’t want any part of inflicting that kind of hurt on another person.

  “You know … we could try again.” He swept the crumbs into his napkin and folded it carefully with the mess safely tucked inside. “If you want to. I know there are things about me you found … less than inspiring.” His face colored a little. “But I could work on them. We could … try new things.”

  The way he was avoiding her gaze and the shy uncertainty in his voice made her think that when he said they could try new things, he meant in bed. Thinking about sex made her think about TJ, and that wasn’t where she wanted her head to be.

  She didn’t want to have sex with Peter, even if they did try new things. She only wanted to be with TJ. But she didn’t want to be with TJ if she was only a bit of fun for him, only a lark or a way for him to transition from his divorce. She didn’t want to be a pleasant diversion. She wanted to mean something. And she’d meant something to Peter. If she hadn’t, he wouldn’t be talking about marriage and children. He wouldn’t be talking about her future and about second chances.

  His eyebrows rose. “Will you think about giving it another go?”

  “I’ll think about it. And, Peter?” S
he reached out and took his hand. “Thank you. For listening to me, I mean. You didn’t have to do that, not after I ended things. You didn’t need to sit there and listen to me talk about another man.”

  He shrugged. “If it means we can try again, it’s worth it. I really do care about you, Bianca.”

  A little voice in the back of her mind pointed out that he’d said he cared about her, not that he loved her. She wasn’t sure that caring—without real love—was enough to build a marriage and a family on. On the other hand, there was a lot to be said for how sensible Peter was, how reliable. How willing he was to give her the things she wanted.

  The problem was, what she wanted was TJ Davenport, and there was no way Peter could give her that.

  29

  TJ knew he had to fix things with Bianca, but he didn’t know exactly how. He really had said the thing she’d heard him say, and that was going to be damned hard to explain.

  Still, he had to try. He could just tell her the truth: He’d been trying to make his mother back off, and playing down their relationship had seemed like an expedient way to do it. He didn’t think that what they had together was any of his mother’s business, so he’d seen no obligation to be truthful about it.

  If that didn’t work, he’d have to do something desperate and go with Plan B: telling her he thought he was falling in love with her.

  It was the truth, after all, but he didn’t want to admit it if he didn’t have to. They hadn’t been seeing each other very long, and such an admission would make him look like an idiot. Who fell in love with someone after just a few dates? He’d like to keep that piece of information to himself for a while if he could. But if telling her was the only way to fix things, then he would tell her.

  He could figure out what to do about his mother later.

  He tried calling Bianca that evening, but it went straight to voice mail. He’d tried texting her, but she didn’t respond.

  When she still wasn’t taking his calls or answering his messages the next day, he decided to show up at her house. It was damned hard to ignore someone when they were standing on your doorstep looking at you.

  After work, he gave Owen his dinner, got him settled doing his homework, then told him he’d be back in a half hour to an hour at the latest. Then he drove to Bianca’s house, parked his truck, and walked to the front door feeling nervous and a little bit unsteady. Initially, he’d hoped she wasn’t pissed, but she clearly was. He had to make things right with her, whatever it took.

  Sofia let him in. She told him Bianca had popped over to a neighbor’s house for a few minutes but would be back any moment. Did he want to wait?

  He did.

  He got settled on the sofa, sitting nervously on the edge of the cushion and fidgeting, his right knee bouncing up and down, while Sofia went into her room and did whatever she was doing in there.

  TJ tried mentally rehearsing what he wanted to say, but that just made him more nervous. Instead, he began picking up random items from the coffee table, examining them, then putting them back down.

  One of the items was a thick binder packed full of papers, Post-it notes in various colors peeking out from the edges. His first thought was that it was Benny’s and it had something to do with her marine biology research. But then he saw that he was wrong; the binder was full of pictures of wedding dresses and cakes, pamphlets for DJs and caterers. Okay, so it was Sofia’s. He knew her wedding was coming up, though he wasn’t sure of the date.

  Huh. Nice dress. A little poofy, though.

  He was happily leafing through the binder, giving his silent mental judgment on the choices Sofia had made, when he saw something that shocked him so much his brain short-circuited, sending back error messages when he tried to make sense of it.

  Because the name of the groom in the binder wasn’t Patrick Connelly, as he’d expected. Instead, it was Troy Davenport.

  TJ dropped the binder as though it were on fire.

  What should he do? Should he wait for Bianca and ask her why the hell she’d been planning their wedding without his knowledge or consent? Or should he just run like hell, change his name, and move to a different town without leaving a forwarding address?

  He opted for the latter option—at least, the part about running like hell. Moving and changing his name was a daunting prospect, but getting his ass out of this house as quickly as possible seemed nonnegotiable.

  Sofia came back into the room just as TJ had his hand on the doorknob.

  “Aren’t you going to wait for Bianca? She should be home any minute.”

  “Ah, no. I’ve got a … I have to … There’s a … a thing I have to do.”

  “Oh.” Sofia frowned. “Do you want me to tell her you were here?”

  “No!”

  She looked at him funny, and he realized he’d shouted the word. “I mean … that’s all right. You don’t have to. I’ll just … call her later.”

  He went out the front door, got into his truck, and burned rubber on his way down the street and out of the neighborhood.

  “He did? That’s weird.” Of course Sofia had told Bianca about TJ’s visit, even though he’d said not to. That was what sisters did. Now, Bianca was trying to figure out what he might have wanted and why he’d left without talking to her. “Did he say what it was about?”

  “No. He just said he wanted to talk to you. Then he hurried out of here like his house was on fire.”

  Bianca didn’t particularly want to talk to TJ—not after everything that had happened—but she figured it was inevitable. At some point he would ask to see her again, and she’d have to tell him no. The sooner they got it over with, in her mind, the better.

  Still, she wouldn’t mind hearing his apology—one she richly deserved. Surely that was why he’d come, but why had he left without the groveling she was entitled to?

  Then she saw Sofia’s binder sitting on the coffee table, and her jaw fell in horror. “Oh, my God. Was that sitting there when he was here?”

  Sofia looked at the binder, puzzled. “I guess so. Why?” Then, after a moment, her eyes went wide and she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh! Oh, shit!”

  “Did he see it?” Bianca demanded. “Did he?”

  “I don’t know!” Sofia sounded near tears. “I don’t … I don’t know! But he could have. He was sitting on the sofa, and I was in the bedroom, and … Oh, God. He ran out of here like there were zombies on his ass. He saw it. He must have. Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Bianca. I’m so sorry.”

  Bianca let out a harsh laugh and sank onto the sofa.

  “I’ll call him,” Sofia offered. “I’ll explain. I can fix this. Don’t worry. I can make this go away.”

  “No.” Bianca’s voice sounded resigned.

  “What do you mean, no? Why not?”

  What was the point of having Sofia explain things, of chasing after TJ and trying to soothe his nerves? He thought what they had together was insignificant, anyway.

  It was almost too perfect. Him seeing the binder and misinterpreting its meaning was simply saving Bianca the time, effort, and emotional anguish of breaking things off with him.

  “Just don’t,” Bianca said to her sister. “Don’t talk to him, don’t try to smooth things over. Just … don’t.”

  And it wasn’t like he’d completely misread things, had he? Bianca really had planned a wedding between herself and him. She really had nursed an exquisitely painful and intense crush. What did it matter that all of it had happened when she was sixteen? Either way, it was humiliating. Either way, it was likely to make him flee like a rabbit from a circling hawk.

  This thing with TJ had been a fantasy from the beginning—it wasn’t reality. It wasn’t practical, and it wasn’t responsible.

  Maybe the misunderstanding had been the perfect way out.

  TJ was still shaken at work the next day. Eduardo, the new guy at his latest job site, was helping him reroute the wiring in the master bathroom to accommodate a heated towel rack. As Eduardo cut a stra
tegic hole in the drywall where the rack would be, TJ couldn’t help talking a little about what was on his mind.

  “You married?” he asked Eduardo.

  “Nah, man. You?”

  “No.” They sat with that information for a moment. “Let’s say, hypothetically, you’d just started dating someone. And you went to her house and accidentally found out she’d planned a wedding for the two of you. Without, you know, being engaged, or even telling you about it. That’s weird, right?”

  Eduardo stopped what he was doing, drywall saw in his hand, and looked at TJ. “That’s worse than weird. That’s freaking crazy, man. That chick’s a bunny-boiler. You better start sleeping with pepper spray under your pillow.” Eduardo let out a barking laugh and went back to making the hole in the drywall.

  TJ was torn between wanting to defend Bianca—who certainly was not about to murder any household pets—and agreeing with Eduardo.

  He wasn’t sure what to believe. His instinct told him she wasn’t like that—she wasn’t some kind of clingy nightmare out of a cheesy horror flick. She was … well. She was lovely. She was everything he’d thought he wanted in a woman since time and experience had taught him that he didn’t want Penny. She was warm and beautiful, kind and intelligent, and, God, when he’d had her in bed …

  “You okay?” Eduardo looked at TJ with his head cocked to one side.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Just figuring out how to lock up your pets?” he asked, and brayed out a laugh.

  “Something like that.”

  He knew he couldn't keep seeing her—not now, not knowing what was in that binder. But that didn’t mean it would be easy to stop thinking about her.