Marriage For One

by Maise, Ella

  “What’s wrong?” Jack asked as soon as it was just the two of us in the spacious office.

  I pulled my hand away from his warm, gentle grip, massaging my wrist. Any kind of touching would just cause me to break down faster.

  “Nothing. I just dropped by. I should leave.” I checked my watch and then set my gaze on his shoulder instead of his eyes. “It’s pretty late. Owen is covering for me with Sally, but I think I should head back so he can take off. So, I’m just gonna leave.”

  Despite my repetitive words, I couldn’t make a move to leave, and Jack wasn’t getting out of my way anyway. A few seconds later, I felt two of his fingers gently tilt my chin up and remain there.

  We looked at each other for a few heartbeats. I really was affected by the dream I’d had the night before. It still felt like there was something real between us, and it was quite possibly the worst time to feel the leftover effects of being in love with him—or, more accurately, the effects of him being in love with me.

  “Tell me what’s wrong, Rose,” he said simply, his voice soft and worried. “Have you been crying?”

  I winced a little then bit on the inside of my cheek as he waited patiently. “Just a little, but it’s nothing big. I just went to the doctor and—” My voice started breaking so I stopped.

  “When? Why?” He let my chin go.

  “Now. I mean I’m coming from the doctor’s office. I had an appointment. I wanted to get a spray or something for the allergies.” I touched my nose and his gaze followed. “For my nose. Obviously.” I smiled, but I didn’t think it reached my eyes.

  “For the cold, right?”

  Lately, I was always walking around with a Kleenex in my hand or had some nearby, just in case it started up when I wasn’t expecting it.

  “Yes, the one-day sore throat and the…um, runny nose and the headaches. Anyway, it doesn’t feel like a normal cold. I feel completely fine if you don’t count the headaches and the nose issues, which is why I thought suddenly I’d become allergic to something. It’s like water dripping from my nose.” I let out a small groan and looked away. “Talking about my nose is not what I want to do with you at all.”

  He ignored my discomfort. “I never saw you have any problems like that other than a few times.”

  “That’s because it’s not dripping 24/7. Sometimes it’s okay if I’m standing up, but when I sit down, it starts dripping. Lying on my back is obviously fine, and so is keeping my head tilted back, but sometimes when I sleep on my face, I wake up in the middle of the night because I can feel something trailing down and… You get the point. Also, when it starts up when I’m working or like when we were at the charity event, I have to push a cotton ball or some tissue paper up there, something so I don’t have to hold a tissue under my nose like this all the time.” I lamented my words when I had to hold the Kleenex up to my face again. “In any case, whatever I do, it gets drenched too quickly anyway.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me all of this before, Rose? Why did you wait?”

  “I was working, and I thought it would go away on its own. Plus, I don’t like doctors. Sometimes it starts up and doesn’t stop for hours. Sometimes it disappears after half an hour or so. I try my best not to tilt my head down, because that triggers it too. Thankfully in the mornings it’s slow, for some reason, so it hasn’t been a big issue when I’m baking, but I never know when it’s going to happen. Speaking of…”

  I felt it coming down again, and the Kleenex in my hand was done already. Holding on to the chair, I slowly got down to my knees, my eyes looking up at the ceiling. Blindly, I tried to reach for my bag, but suddenly Jack was on his knees too, reaching for my hands. I felt my eyes blur a little.

  “Can you get me a tissue, please?” I asked, keeping my chin up and away from his gaze.

  He let go of me and got up to leave.

  “Wait, I have some in my—”

  He walked out of his office before I could tell him I had some more in my bag. I stood up. He came back with a pretty box of Kleenex and held it out for me. I pulled one out and, sniffling, held it under my nose.

  “Are you okay?” he asked again, looking straight into my eyes. I nodded and tilted my head back a little more to stop the flow a bit. Sometimes that helped. Now that I’d learned what it could be, the feeling of that warm trickle was freaking me out more than it had only hours earlier.

  Jack massaged his temple, walked a few steps away, and then came back to stand in front of me. “Okay. Okay, tell me what the doctor said. I’m assuming it’s not allergies from the look on your face.”

  “Nope. Turns out it’s probably not allergies or a cold. He wants to run some tests, wants to get a CT scan and an MRI, but he thinks I might have cerebrospinal fluid leak, especially because it’s only coming from one side of my nose.” I twisted my lips and tried my best to hold back my tears. His eyes studied my face, and the longer I looked into his gaze, the more his image started to blur.

  “Don’t do that,” he ordered, his face unreadable.

  I nodded. Given the kind of guy he was, I didn’t think dealing with a crying female would be his favorite thing to do, but even hearing his gravelly voice was breaking the tight hold I’d had on myself ever since I left the doctor’s office.

  I’d put my bag on the chair as I was standing up, so I grabbed it and hitched it higher on my shoulder then nodded to myself. Tightening my fingers around the Kleenex in my grasp, I dropped my hand down. “I should leave, really. I should’ve gone straight back to work in the first place. I just thought I’d drop by and tell you I might not be able to join you—” When the first tear slowly slid down my cheek, I angrily swiped at it with the back of my hand. “I might not be able to join you at events for a while. I think they need to do surgery so I’m not sure if I’m gonna…”

  He looked at me for a long time as the tears I had promised myself I wouldn’t shed started to come more rapidly after the word surgery. Then I felt the now familiar feeling that something was running down my nose, so I quickly tilted my head back. The last thing—the very last thing I wanted was for him to actually see something coming down my nose. I felt like I couldn’t come back from that.

  “Okay.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his cool demeanor cracking just slightly in front of my eyes. “Okay. Let’s just sit the fuck down for a second.” It was the first time I’d heard him curse. “And stop saying you need to leave. You’re not going anywhere.”

  I nodded as much as I could with my head tilted back, because what else could I have done? I didn’t want to interrupt him at his office, but I didn’t have it in me to leave either. As I turned around to head back for the chairs, he stopped me with one hand on my arm and opened the office door again with the other one.

  “Cynthia, call George and tell him I won’t make it. Send him the junior associate I worked with—she should have the details he needs. I’ll get back to him later.”

  “Jack,” I broke in as he closed the door without even waiting to hear Cynthia’s answer. “I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

  “What did I just tell you?” He pulled me toward the couch that was next to the floor-to-ceiling windows and sat right next to me. He was still holding the Kleenex box in his hand. I didn’t know why I focused on that so much, but him holding that box along with the intense and slightly scary expression on his face while wearing one of his many expensive suits would always be a good memory for me after this whole marriage business was over.

  “I don’t think I know how to do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Rely on someone. Lean on someone. I feel like I’m messing it up.”

  “I want to be that person to you, Rose. I want to be the person you lean on. You and I, we’re the same. We have no one but each other. You’ll lean on me and I’ll do the same. We’ll learn how. We’re in this together.”

  I was speechless.

  “Now tell me what the hell a cerebro…”

  “Cerebrospinal leak,�
�� I finished for him.

  “Whatever the hell it is. Tell me what needs to be done. How did it happen? When are you scheduled for the MRI and CT scan? Tell me everything, Rose.”

  I managed to stop the tears, but my nose was still leaking. “Can you give me another tissue, please?”

  He pulled another one out and handed it to me. I mumbled a thank you and quickly held it under my nose as I pushed the used one into my bag. There were more than a few like it in there already. He turned his body so he was sitting on the edge of the leather couch, his knee pushing at the side of my thigh, and then he finally placed the box on the glass square table in front of us. Sniffling, I wiped my nose and held it in place.

  “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine—that’s the weird thing.”

  “Okay. Now tell me everything he said, from the beginning.”

  “So, I went in and told him what was happening, and he just looked into my nose and then my throat because I said I had a sore throat a week or so ago, but now I think that’s totally unrelated. Then he asked me if I’ve been in an accident recently or had any kind of surgery, a head trauma, a hard hit to the head. I haven’t, and I told him that. Then he asked about the taste of the liquid and I told him I had no idea because I didn’t taste it, obviously. I was fine at the doctor’s office so I couldn’t show him, but I told him it especially starts dripping whenever I lean down for too long, look down, bend down, or when I sleep on my face at night—which is every night.”

  “Did he tell you what it is exactly? Explain cerebrospinal leak to me.”

  I blew out a breath and swallowed. “He wouldn’t tell me much, said he wanted to schedule an MRI and a CT scan right away to make sure, but I kept asking, and apparently the CSF—cerebrospinal fluid—leak occurs when there is a hole or tear in the membrane that surrounds and cushions the brain. Apparently it can be around the spinal cord too. Ah, anyway…so the fluid, just a clear liquid, in the membrane protecting the brain starts leaking through the nose. Since I didn’t have a head trauma, I don’t know how it happened.” My eyes started watering again. “And I feel so icky just talking about this. I was sure it was allergies even though I’ve never had them before.”

  “And he is sure this is CSF?”

  I shook my head. “No, that’s why he wanted to schedule the MRI and CT scan. Apparently they’ll be able to see where the leak is coming from, if there is a hole, and things like that.”

  “When are you going in for the scans?”

  This was the bad part, or the worse part. I winced. “I didn’t schedule them.” My nose seemed to take a break so I rested my hands in my lap.

  His forehead creased. “What do you mean you didn’t schedule them?”

  “A CT scan, I can do, Jack. I googled it and it’s only a minute, plus only my head would go in. The MRI, which is what he said they needed to see if there is a hole and where it is—that one I can’t do.”

  He looked at me in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not okay with closed spaces.”

  “You’re claustrophobic? You never panic in an elevator.”

  “Elevators are fine, as long as I don’t get stuck in them. Plus, I can move. I don’t have to stay still. I talked to a nurse when I exited the doctor’s office and apparently their MRI machine is old and the type of scan he wants takes over fifteen minutes, and I can’t move at all during it—as in I’m not allowed to move or twitch any part of my body. If I do, they’ll have to start all over again.” I could feel my eyes burning with tears. I felt so stupid. “Thinking about it is already giving me anxiety, and she said they will need to close a cage on my head because apparently it needs to be stable.” I shook my head more vehemently. “Trust me, I know how stupid it sounds, but I can’t do it, Jack. I can’t.”

  He stared at me for a few beats and I hoped he’d understand. “There are open MRI machines. You wouldn’t have to be closed in.”

  A tear escaped from my eye and I let it be. “She said the scan he wants is complicated and those machines don’t take that scan. It has to be closed.”

  He watched the tear slide down my cheek and abruptly got up to pace in front of the couch as he ran his hand over his face. He stopped and took a deep breath. “Wait.” Opening his office door, he leaned toward Cynthia. “Call Benjamin for me, tell him it’s urgent.” Casting a quick look my way, he headed for his desk and lifted his phone as soon as it started ringing. “Okay. That’s fine.”

  Then I listened to him talk to Benjamin, who was apparently a doctor from what I could tell from Jack’s side of the conversation. A few minutes later, after he had explained my situation, he had made an appointment for me for the next day with an ENT specialist this Benjamin guy recommended. More doctors—just what I needed.

  When he set the phone down, I got up to my feet. He met me halfway as I was headed for the door.

  “We’ll meet him at eleven tomorrow morning and see what he has to say. Maybe we can get out of it without an MRI.”

  “Okay,” I muttered, trying to walk past him. “I really need to leave.” The more I thought about doctors and tests, the more anxious I was starting to get, and I needed to just get out and breathe in the cold, fresh air.

  “What’s wrong?” His hand curled around my wrist again, stopping me.

  “Nothing,” I said, my tone a little harsher than necessary. “I need to leave. I’m already late.”

  “Hey.” Dropping my wrist, he covered my cheek with his palm, and my lips started to tremble. I was one of those who couldn’t handle kindness when I was already teetering on the edge, and the gentle tone of his voice was the worst thing he could’ve offered to me in that moment.

  “Are you gonna die?” His question was too much of a contradiction with the tone of his voice and his warm hand resting on my cheek, which was why I couldn’t find my words for a moment.

  I blinked at him. “What?” I stuttered, shocked out of my tears.

  “I asked if you’re going to die.” He pulled his hand away from me and dropped it to his side. “Is it something like cancer?” he continued. “Did the doctor say anything like that? Is it not treatable? If that’s the case, let’s sit down and cry together and break things.”

  I just kept blinking up at him, drawing a blank as to how to respond. A few seconds later, I just burst into laughter. I was aware that it probably looked like I was losing it in front of him, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. Jack actually must have thought I had indeed lost it, because the line between his brows got deeper by the second.

  “Something funny?”

  “Oh, the things you say to me, Jack Hawthorne.” I sighed, wiping tears of laughter from under my eyes. “I think this might be why I found myself in front of your building, because I probably knew you wouldn’t cuddle me and allow self-pity. If I’d called any of my friends or gone straight to the coffee shop, I would have just felt sorry for myself the entire day.”

  When his expression didn’t lighten up, I decided to go ahead and answer his question.

  “No, I don’t think I’m going to die. I hope not, at least. He didn’t say it was anything that bad—if I have what he thinks I have, that is. There is always the possibility of ending up having surgery and dying on the table, but then again he might have skipped that part because I don’t think it’d be a very positive thing to tell a patient.”

  Jack tilted his head and gave me an impressively exasperated look. “How about we don’t jump to any conclusions yet? We don’t know whether it is CSF or something else. Let’s see the ENT specialist tomorrow and then start to worry about tests and scans and surgeries.”

  I nodded and took a deep, deep breath, having gotten a better handle on my emotions thanks to his brand of tough love. “I’m not good with doctors,” I told him, repeating my earlier confession. “I’m not good with stuff like this.”

  “I really couldn’t tell.” His beautiful and gentle smile was the last straw
for me, and the tears just started to roll down my face.

  He must’ve misunderstood my tears, because he rushed to explain. “You have to stop crying. I can’t take it. We’ll deal with it together, if it comes to it, but we’re not going to worry about it before we know what it is exactly. It doesn’t make sense to do so. Agreed?”

  “Now you smile at me?” I blurted out, ignoring his support. His face was already blurring as my eyes started to fill with tears, but I managed to hit him on his chest once, lightly. “Now?” I didn’t even realize my voice was rising, but I felt his entire demeanor change as he kept my hand against his chest and pulled me in closer, which only made things worse.

  I rested my forehead against his chest, near his heart, and tried to get myself together. When his deeply masculine scent started to mess with me, I grabbed the lapel of his jacket in my fist and pulled back so I could look up at him.

  “This is the worst timing, Jack. If it really is brain, spinal cord fluid leak, or whatever the hell it is, he said I’d need to have surgery. I’m afraid of needles! Needles, for God’s sake. Surgery? And that close to my brain or spinal cord?” I took a breath and continued. “I know this is going to sound extremely vain and I hate myself for it, but does this mean they’re gonna cut my hair off? Go in through my skull? How would it even work? I was going to google it on my way over here, but I couldn’t even manage that.”

  Both his hands went up to my cheeks this time as he cleared my rapidly falling tears with his thumbs. “We’re not gonna do that.” He leaned down so he could be eye level with me. “We’re not gonna start worrying before we know what’s going on. I told you this already and you’re not hearing me.”

  “I just know it’s CSF.” I stared into his eyes. “With my luck, I know it is.” To have something to hold on to or maybe because I wanted to keep him connected to me as long as I could, I lifted my hands and placed them over Jack’s wrists. “I don’t want this, Jack. I have the coffee shop. After years of dreaming, I have it, and I can’t close it if I have to have surgery. We just opened.”