by A. J. Pine
Was it really that simple?
“How did you know?” she asked Megan. “About Jason. That it was real. Did you wait until the dopamine spikes subsided? Did you spend time apart to determine if absence made your…your feelings wane over time?” She groaned. “I mean, when were you sure that you wouldn’t suffer the physiological manifestations of loss if you broke up or something happened to one of you or—”
Charlotte had been reading quite a bit about said physiological manifestations of loss since she’d returned home. She needed something to explain this intense feeling of missing someone she hadn’t even known mere months ago—something that could tell her how to heal a wound she couldn’t even see. But so far she hadn’t found the answer.
Megan pushed Charlotte out into the hall and pulled the door closed behind them.
“I’m going to make this short and sweet, neighbor, because I need to get back in there and kiss my husband at midnight.” She shook her head and laughed. “Maybe there is a physiological response to finding the right partner, and maybe with time apart, that response may dissipate or fade or disappear altogether. But at some point, you have to get out of your head and your textbooks and medical journals and take a leap of faith—or across the country—because you don’t want to know how the science of it all works. You just want that person, by your side and in your corner, for however long you can.”
“But,” Charlotte said, “that’s—”
“Terrifying?” Megan interrupted. “Of course it is. But if the alternative is red wine on your shirt and a quiche in the microwave, which is worse? If you’re happy and fulfilled on your own, then I’m happy for you. But if something is missing? If he’s the something, why wouldn’t you do something about it if you could?”
Because doing something about it would mean uncertainty.
Doing something would mean putting herself out there and possibly getting her heart stomped—theoretically, of course.
Doing something would mean admitting that she didn’t have all the answers and that maybe, someday in the distant or not-too-distant future—if things didn’t work out or something happened to Ben that was beyond her control—she could ache more than she did right now.
“Think with this,” Megan said, tapping the left side of Charlotte’s chest just under her shoulder. “And not this.” She did the same against Charlotte’s temple, and it brought Charlotte back to the night she found out Ben had been hurt when Ivy had tried to get her to do the exact same thing. To game night. To the night he lost his father and she realized that all the medical training in the world couldn’t give him back what he’d lost.
She cleared her throat. “The heart is actually more centrally located than most people think, and while it is a muscle that performs very important bodily functions, it can’t truly think, and—” She stopped herself short and blew out a breath. “Right. It’s a figurative thing. I can do figurative. I can…I can go back to California and say what I should have said weeks ago.”
Through the door they could both hear the partygoers starting to count down.
“Go!” she and Megan both said at the same time.
Megan slipped back into her apartment, and Charlotte barreled through her own door, kicking off her pumps and rummaging in her closet until she found her cowboy boots. She threw on her wool coat, grabbed her cell phone and her purse, and unplugged her tangle of holiday lights. Then she ran back into her room and reached up to the high shelf in her tiny closet, the one where she’d hidden Ben’s going-away gift because she’d been too afraid to look at it again. After that she was out the door and in the elevator before she had time to rethink her plan—or lack thereof.
She didn’t want red wine spilled on her T-shirt or Trader Joe’s quiche for one. Though it was a really good quiche, which she could totally share.
She didn’t want safety or science or all of the answers. Not if that meant Ben Callahan would be nothing more than a memory that made her throat tight and her chest ache.
She wanted him. She wanted a happily-ever-after even if there was no guarantee how long it would last.
When she burst out of her apartment building—onto the empty-as-hell New York street on New Year’s Eve—she simply started to run.
She could take the subway to the Howard Beach station and then hop the AirTrain to JFK. There had to be a flight out to California sometime in the next few hours, right? Direct. Not direct. It didn’t matter as long as she was moving.
And for the next hour, she was. She made it all the way to JFK, to her favorite airline’s ticket counter, and asked for the first flight out to Northern California.
“I’m sorry, miss,” the sleepy ticket agent said, her disheveled bun and smeared eyeliner making it clear that she’d worked more than her regular shift today. “But the next flight out isn’t until late this evening.” She tapped away at her computer, then looked up. “That’s including us and other airlines.”
Charlotte shrugged, then realized she had no luggage and an entire day to spend at the airport. There was no way she was going home. She’d lose her nerve. So she’d just have to make a day of it. And figure out what she would tell the office tomorrow if she didn’t make it back by the third.
“I’ll take the ticket,” Charlotte said.
The other woman nodded and offered a tired smile. “Will that be one way or round trip?”
Her breath caught in her throat. Well, then. Here was a decision she wasn’t prepared to make. All she knew was that she had to see Ben, to tell him what she felt regardless of whether she could back up those feelings with any sort of scientific guarantee. She loved him. She loved him. And the more she thought it, the simpler it became. But what came after that? At the end of books and movies, what came after the happily-ever-after? Because no matter which way you sliced it, one of them was going to have to give something up.
“If it helps, miss,” the ticket agent began, “I can book you on an open-ended return. It’s less expensive than two one-way tickets but a bit more than a round trip. It’s good for a full year.”
She could figure her life out in a year, right? All she knew right now was that life meant being a doctor and loving a man who somehow made it okay not to have all the answers. But she could at least have these two and figure out the rest from there.
“I’ll take it,” she said, then slapped a credit card onto the counter like she was in some big grand gesture scene at the end of a movie. But it was just Charlotte and Rita, the ticket agent who had to work overnight on New Year’s Eve.
Rita smiled. “I’m going to need a photo ID as well. Any bags to check?”
Charlotte shook her head and handed over her driver’s license. In less than two minutes, she had a boarding pass in her hand.
“Happy New Year!” she said, stowing her cards in her purse in a rush. Then she ran in the direction of her gate.
It didn’t take long to get there considering she was the only person at the TSA PreCheck line. Once there, she found the only open shop and stocked up on bottled water, a bag of dried fruit, some chips, a chocolate bar, an airplane pillow, a pile of magazines and a couple of New York Times bestsellers, and a small tote bag in which to carry it all.
She guessed she had some luggage now.
Then she promptly situated herself in a chair at the gate, neck pillow resting on her shoulders, her list journal open in her hands to the page that read, List five things that truly make you happy.
My job.
My bodega.
My family.
My friends.
Being okay not having all the answers.
And next to each one, she’d written and Ben Callahan. Because her life was good, but without him in it, she was doing little more than surviving. With him, though, it all came together into one perfect word—happiness.
She fell asleep after that, satisfied that of all her lists, this one was the best.
“Doc?”
Charlotte heard the word, the nickname no o
ne had called her in two weeks, and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want this dream to end.
“Doc,” she heard again. “Open those green eyes or I swear I’m stealing that giant bar of chocolate.”
She bolted upright in her chair, the threat of losing her sweet treat enough to raise her from the dead.
Except instead of finding her stash of goodies in danger, she found Ben Callahan sitting in the chair next to hers. His eyes were bleary and his jaw lined with scruff, but that million-dollar smile still made her heart leap into her throat.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, nodding at her overflowing bag of travel goodies.
She nodded. “California,” she said. “I needed to tell you something.”
He tucked her hair behind her ear, and she shivered at his touch. God she’d missed that touch.
“Does it have anything to do with that list you made there?” he asked, the sound of his voice better than any song or piece of music composed, and she’d seen Hamilton. Twice.
“Wait,” she started, then realized she was still wearing her pillow and ripped it off. She wasn’t going to declare her feelings with a travel pillow wrapped around her neck. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged matter-of-factly. “My brother and my mom seem to think I’m better suited finding work on an East Coast ranch. They bought my house and my third of the business right out from under me. Of course I agreed willingly. Signed a contract and everything. And I already have a few contacts at some upstate ranches and even a horse farm in Connecticut. Might mean only seeing you on my days off to start, but that’s a hell of a lot better than you being across the country. And I—”
“I love you,” Charlotte blurted. “I can’t believe I left without telling you. Maybe it would have made you realize that you didn’t need to become a better man because you were already the best man I knew. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say it. I was so damned scared.” She cleared her throat. “I am scared. And I have no idea what I’m doing. At. All. The only thing I know is that I love you, Ben Callahan.”
“I love you, too, Doc.”
She nodded. “I know,” she said with a soft laugh.
“You did Han Solo me. On Thanksgiving night.” Now he was laughing too.
Then he leaned in and kissed her. Everything and nothing made sense at the same time because she knew without a doubt that this was right, that they were right. But hell if she could find any evidence in a book or journal to back that up, and for once she didn’t care.
“Happy New Year, Doc.”
“Happy birthday, cowboy.”
His smile—as if it could get any bigger, broader, or more blindingly beautiful—grew.
“Tell me again,” he said. “One more time.”
“Happy birthday?” she teased.
He shook his head.
“Oh,” she said with a grin. “You mean the part about being in love with you? Because I am. I love you. And I really like saying it.”
And then he said the only two words he could have possibly said to let her know she’d made the right decision betting on him.
“I know.”
Epilogue
Ten and a half months later…
Ben watched, unable to hide his grin, as Charlotte tried in vain to zip the suitcase they were both sharing.
“I’d offer to take something out to make it easier on you, Doc, but all I’ve got in there is my suit for the wedding and a couple of other changes of clothes.”
She stood and climbed on top of the case, jumped a couple of times, and then lost her footing. Ben leapt toward her and caught her under the arms before she crashed to the floor.
“Saved your life,” he whispered in her ear. “Looks like you owe me.”
She let out a breathy laugh as he lowered her safely to the floor; then she spun to face him. “Good thing I’m in no rush to get rid of you,” she said. “So I have time to dole out my payments.”
He kissed her on the nose.
“You overpacked,” he said.
“I didn’t,” she insisted. “It’s my dress for the wedding, a different dress for brunch the next day, casual clothes, something to sleep in, gifts for the baby, and maybe four pairs of shoes.”
She mumbled the last bit, but he heard it loud and clear.
“Four pairs of shoes? Doc, I don’t even own four pairs of shoes. And where we’re going, all you need is one. Cowboy boots go with everything.”
She laughed, flipped open the case, and pulled out three of the four pairs, and then zipped it shut with no problem.
“Strappy heels for the wedding, boots for everything else.” She clicked her heels together because said boots were already on her feet, looking all sexy poking out from the frayed bottoms of her jeans.
“Should we tell them before or after the wedding?” he asked.
Charlotte skimmed her teeth along her bottom lip. “Let’s wait until after. This is their moment. Not ours.”
He clasped his hands around her waist. “You haven’t even told your grandmother?”
Charlotte grinned and shook her head, proud at having kept their secret. “Which part? That in about eight months I’ll be proud owner of Meadow Valley Pediatrics when Dr. Grady retires, or this?” she asked, flashing the diamond ring on her left hand in her fiancé’s face.
He laughed. “Both.” Then his smile faltered. “I’ll stay here forever if that’s what you want,” he said.
She nodded. “I did want it. I mean, I still do—being the best doctor I can be. But I want more,” she said.
He raised a brow. “More than your career and me?” he teased.
“Yep,” she said with a smile. “I want everyone we love to be only minutes away—Gran and Carter; Sam and Delaney; your mom…” She paused. “And for me and Black Widow to kick your and Loki’s asses in that arena.”
He threaded his fingers through hers, rubbing his thumb over her engagement ring. “You know, you can’t wear that thing to the wedding,” he said.
She pouted. “But—”
“You said it yourself—it’s Sam and Delaney’s weekend.” He kissed her. “And then we can tell them I’m going to be the future Mr. Doctor Ben Callahan.”
She snorted. “You don’t get the title of doctor just by marrying me.”
He scoffed dramatically. “Then why am I doing this again?”
She grinned and nipped at his bottom lip. “Because you love me. And you can’t live without me. And we’re finally going back where we both belong.”
He raised his brows. “Right,” he said. “All of those things. Just out of curiosity, why are you marrying me?” he asked.
She shrugged and pulled him tight. “Because you’re sweet.” She kissed him. “And sexy.” She kissed him again. “And you’re my best friend.” With this kiss, her lips lingered on his, and he smiled against her.
“How much time before our taxi comes?” he asked.
“Thirty minutes.”
He scooped her into his arms and piloted her toward the bedroom.
She yelped with laughter. “What are you doing?” she asked.
He strode straight through the door and dropped her onto the bed. Their bed. He loved that word—their. He loved all the words that meant the life they’d built was one they’d committed to share.
Even through the windows, he could hear the sounds of traffic outside—horns honking and motors revving as a light changed from red to green. He’d grown used to the strange harmony of traffic and construction, to the ninety-minute drive to and from the ranch where he worked upstate, to all of it. For now, this was their home, Ben and Charlotte, which made everything worth it.
He grinned at the woman who would one day be his wife. His wife. His best friend. He still couldn’t get over how lucky he was. The least he could do was show his gratitude.
“Thirty minutes is plenty of time,” he teased. “To show you just how good a friend I can be.”
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Don’t miss the next book in A.J. Pine’s Meadow Valley series!
Only a Cowboy
Will Do
Available Spring 2021
About the Author
A librarian for teens by day and a romance writer by night, A.J. Pine can’t seem to escape the world of fiction, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. When she finds that twenty-fifth hour in the day, she might indulge in a tiny bit of TV when she nourishes her undying love of vampires, superheroes, and a certain high-functioning sociopathic detective. She hails from the far-off galaxy of the Chicago suburbs.
You can learn more at:
AJPine.com
Twitter @AJ_Pine
Facebook.com/AJPineAuthor
Also by A.J. Pine
Meadow Valley
Cowboy to the Rescue (novella)
My One and Only Cowboy
Crossroads Ranch
Second Chance Cowboy
Saved by the Cowboy (novella)
Tough Luck Cowboy
Hard Loving Cowboy
Praise for A.J. Pine
“A sweet…love story.”
—Publishers Weekly on My One and Only Cowboy
“My One and Only Cowboy was an entertaining romance that was woven with wit and warmth.”
—GuiltyPleasuresBookReviews.com