Doctor's Orders (Complete Series)

by Lilian Monroe

  “I…”

  I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear his explanation, his excuse, his way of weaseling his way back into my bed. My bed. I’ve let myself get carried away by the promise of the orgasms I’ve so desperately wanted for so many years.

  He couldn’t even tell me that he dated a girl before. All he’s ever told me is that he had a “rule” to not date women long term to focus on his career, and that he was “breaking” that rule for me. What a load of bullshit. I can’t believe I’ve been so blind.

  I stand up and shake my head.

  “I can’t do this, Clay.”

  “Val, wait.” His eyes are pleading, his arms raised in supplication toward me. He stands up with me, trying to block my path. “I can explain, just give me a second.”

  “I don’t want to hear any more of your explanations.” People in the restaurant are staring at us and for once I don’t give a shit. “All you’ve done since this morning is backpedal and explain and wheel-and-deal your way back into my heart. Well, we’re done. You’re done.”

  His dark eyes are brimming with tears, boring through me like lasers. It’s all an act, it has to be. I don’t know why he bothers. He could have any girl he chooses, why go through all this trouble with me?

  I look at him one more time, from head to toe. His t-shirt is tight across his muscled chest, forearms strong and vascular. His neck is red, veins popping out in anger, or anxiety, or some other emotion that I don’t particularly care about right now. I can see his pulse in his neck, pumping his blood fast. My eyes brush over his chiseled jaw with a bit of stubble and those eyes that have captivated me since I walked into his office.

  Not anymore.

  No orgasm is worth this amount of hurt.

  I follow in the other woman’s footsteps and stumble out the door. It’s all I can do to make it to my apartment before I break down. Hot tears stream down my face like lava, burning trails down my cheeks.

  I opened up to him, gave myself up to him in body, mind… and heart. Now I realize none of it was real. He’s an expert at telling me what I want to hear. I must have been amusing to him, the girl who can’t come who’s now completely infatuated with him.

  Caroline said it–I was his plaything.

  God, I feel like an idiot.

  With the door closed and locked behind me I crumple onto the floor. Once again, I’m in my apartment, destroyed. My arms and legs feel weak, I’m dizzy with pain. The blurry outlines of my furniture are barely visible through my tear-filled eyes and I can’t help but cry even harder. My heart is shattered and I sit on the floor as I try to understand what just happened.

  Emma was right to walk away from him this morning, to call him a user. He played me and now he’ll move on to the next girl and play her too. He’ll go on “breaking his rules” whenever he wants to get in someone’s bed.

  Deep breaths. I need to calm down.

  One thing is for sure, he might be getting into a girl’s bed but it won’t be mine.

  That thought doesn’t make me feel better, though. It might even be making me feel worse. The searing pain in my chest isn’t subsiding, I can’t move from my spot on the floor. I was falling for him and now it’s like the curtain has been lifted. He’s been like a drug to me, waltzing into my life and sweeping me off my feet, showing me pleasure like I’ve never experienced. Every orgasm was a new hit, and I chased it like a regular fiend on a street corner.

  Sobs rake through my body, making my shoulders shake as the tears fall from my eyes. I should have known I didn’t deserve to feel that kind of happiness.

  42

  Clay

  No words can explain the hurricane of emotion inside me right now. My blood feels like fire in my veins as I try to understand what just happened.

  The look on Val’s face when she put up her hands and walked away from me was pure hurt and anger and betrayal. If she only gave me a second, I could explain.

  For the second time, that woman, that black-haired snake, slithered her way into my life and left me holding my heart in my hand with a hole in my chest. Except this time it’s not just me she’s hurt, it’s Valerie.

  The waiter walks up to the table with two steaming plates of pasta and all of a sudden, I realize where I am. I look around and see the sideways glances from the tables around me. I’m naked and exposed.

  It’s not true, I want to scream. I’m not that kind of guy!

  The plates are dropped in front of me and the waiter hovers awkwardly.

  “Will… will the lady be coming back?” he asks tentatively.

  I look up at him in a daze.

  “I’ll just get the bill, please.”

  “No problem. Would you like this food to take away?”

  “No, just the bill.” I can’t eat right now. I can’t think, I can’t talk. I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to stand.

  Just when I thought I had Val back, when my heart was singing just looking at her across from me, she was ripped away from me again.

  I need to fix this.

  My heart is beating faster, I’m frantic.

  I need to explain.

  I need to tell her everything. Tell her what happened before.

  I need her to listen.

  I can’t lose her.

  I can’t go back to the way things were. She’s shown me how good things can be, what happiness tastes like.

  It tastes like her. Happiness and Valerie are one and the same.

  I pay the bill with trembling hands and leave.

  Stumbling, frantic, panicking, I make my way toward her. I need to talk to her. I run up the stairs to her apartment and bang on her door.

  “Val. Valerie! Please open the door.”

  “Go away.” The words sound like they’re coming from just the other side of the door. She’s so close, but there are so many things separating us. The door, the pain, my past, her past–the distance between us is vast. Her voice, her beautiful voice sounds strained and choked. A knife passes through my heart like hot butter at the thought that I did this to her, I made her feel like this.

  No, I didn’t. Caroline did.

  “Val, please,” I plead to the door, my voice softer. “The things she was saying weren’t true. I can tell you everything.”

  I hear shuffling on the other side of the door and the lock scrapes open. My heart beats faster and I feel a tendril of hope sparking inside me. The door flies open and there she is.

  Her eyes are red and her cheeks blotchy. The tears are still streaming down her face and my heart breaks all over again. Her pain shoots through me and almost knocks me down. My arms are aching for her, I just want to wrap myself around her and make it better. She speaks before I can.

  “Leave.” Her bottom lip is shaking violently but her voice is low and firm. My heart drops like a stone.

  “What?”

  “Leave, and don’t come back.” Her eyes are blazing the same way they were in my office the very first day I met her. I’m feeling the full force of the determination that first attracted me to her, and I don’t like it.

  “Val, just let me explain.”

  “I told you, Clay. I’m sick of your explanations. You’ve made a fool out of me one too many times. This has been the longest and worst day of my life.” She looks at me and shakes my head. “So you can make me orgasm, so what?” she spits the words at me. “You’re a player, and congratulations, you’ve played me. Don’t come back.”

  The door slams and locks with a finality that knocks me back.

  Just like that, she’s gone. I’ve lost her.

  Somehow, I make it home. I have no idea how. I can’t remember getting here.

  She’s gone.

  I’ve lost her.

  43

  Valerie

  I wake up with the sun streaming through my open blinds. For a couple blissful seconds before I’m fully awake I don’t remember what happened last night. I bring my hands up to rub my eyes. They’re almost swollen shut and then
the tidal wave of emotion rushes back to me and knocks me back down onto the bed.

  I try to rub my eyes and coax them open. The bright sunlight is almost like a slap in the face. How dare the sun shine when I feel like I’ve fallen into the deepest, darkest hole on earth?

  Thank goodness it’s Sunday and I don’t need to go to work today.

  I scrape myself up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. My whole body is sore. I simultaneously feel like I’ve run a marathon and like I have the worst hangover of my life. I groan as I try to convince my legs to work.

  My room is a mess. Discarded clothes from last night and towels from our shower are littered around the room, taunting me. Reminders that he was here. Reminders of the few blissful hours we had together before it all came crashing down. Again.

  Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

  I can’t ignore it any longer. I know who he is, and I know what he is. I need to move on. I had a good life before him, and I can have a good life after him.

  My life before him was good, except for the thing that drove me to him in the first place. I wonder if my newfound ability to climax is gone with him. I feel the tears welling up when I think about losing him, his companionship, his smile, his sex.

  My heart hardens. I need to stop thinking like that. If I let him in, I’ll only be betrayed again.

  I wander through my apartment over to the kitchen. I’m on autopilot when I put on some coffee and then walk over to my purse, still sitting on the floor next to the door where I dropped it last night.

  My phone has one message. It’s from him.

  I need to talk to you.

  I don’t really give a shit what you need, I think to myself. How about what I need! I need to not feel like a fool. I need to feel like I’m not being led on by some guy who is amused by me for some reason.

  Plaything.

  Anger flashes through me and starts another avalanche of emotions. I’m about to succumb to it, to let myself crumple up into a ball again and cry myself dry when my phone buzzes again.

  I almost hurl it across the room without looking at it. I can’t talk to him. Can’t stand the thought of him pestering me again. Just leave me alone.

  Emma’s name flashes on the screen and my anger subsides.

  You okay?

  Those two simple words break me down. No, I’m not okay. I’m pretty fucking far from okay. I’m on the floor again. I’m sick of crying, sick of feeling broken and empty.

  I wish Clay was here. It makes me nauseous to admit it. I’m weak, but oh how I wish I could snuggle into his arms and hear his heartbeat. The thought of his body next to mine makes me cry even harder.

  No.

  She answers a millisecond later.

  On my way.

  I take a deep, rasping breath.

  44

  Clay

  Three months later:

  Seattle is cold and rainy. I’ve been working nights for the past two weeks, which means that for me, Seattle has been dark, cold, and rainy. I make it home just as the sun is coming up and collapse into bed.

  Working under Dr. Willis is thankless. But he’s a brilliant cardiologist and I’ve been learning new things every day. It’s everything I’ve been working for. It’s everything I’ve wanted since I was old enough to know what I want. The hospital is unlike any I’ve ever seen. Filled with cutting edge technology and buzzing with energy. It’s the perfect work environment in every way, and the best step for my career. I’ve made it.

  At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

  I stare up at the ceiling and my thoughts take me across the country to my bedroom in Soho. I think about the first lazy Sunday morning that Val and I had together. I woke up and looked over at her, with her hair spread on the pillow around her head. Her face was peaceful, serene, angelic. I remember seeing the way her chest rose and fell with every breath and I just watched her. That moment is etched into my mind and I’m not sure why. Maybe it was the look on her face, or maybe it was the way my heart thumped in my chest.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and blow the air out of my lungs.

  Here I am, alone, on the other side of the country. I’ve caused her so much pain she wouldn’t even talk to me.

  I stopped trying to call after a couple weeks, she never answered. I started feeling pathetic and desperate, so I stopped trying.

  I turn over onto my side. Anger bubbles up inside me for the thousandth time. I run through the same script in my head, the same script I’ve been saying to myself for months.

  Fuck her. She wouldn’t even give me the chance to explain. She shut me out based on the words of some woman she’d never met. Forget about her. Move on.

  It’s over.

  Still, as usual, when I try to convince myself that it was all wrong, I feel a pang in my chest. She was only trying to protect herself. First the morning with Emma, and then the evening running into Caroline. It was too much for her, I could see it in her face. It kills me that I caused her pain.

  After Val shut me out it was almost a relief. I haven’t been able to look at another woman, let alone talk to one. Dave tried so many times to get me to come out with him, but the thought of anyone else was too painful to bear. So I just worked, and worked, and worked.

  And here I am, exactly where I planned to be. I just didn’t think it would feel like this.

  I’m practically a recluse now. Women? They don’t exist. I see how some of the nurses at the hospital look at me, but I can’t even muster the energy to flirt.

  I’ve been able to get back to what’s important. To get back to what I was working toward all along. To get back to my career, my work, my vocation. I’m here now, where I’ve always wanted to be, doing what I’ve always wanted to do.

  And yet…

  I’m here alone. My bed is cold. I don’t hear the musical ring of her laughter. I don’t get to see the sparkle in her eye when she makes a joke. She doesn’t nudge my ribs or roll her eyes before laughing at something I say.

  My arms feel empty, my skin is almost crawling for her touch.

  Nights aren’t so bad, because I’m at the hospital. I work doubles whenever I can, and I spend as much time learning as possible. As long as my mind is running at full speed, I don’t have to think about anything except work.

  Days are tougher. I wake up every couple hours and struggle to sleep again. At first, I thought it was because of the sunlight streaming through the edges of the blinds, so I got blackout curtains. Now my room is pitch black, and I still wake up thinking of her. Some days it feels like I’m waking up every hour, on the hour.

  It’s the same thing every day. Every day I get home from a long shift and the minute my mind switches off from work it switches on to her. I can’t take it anymore.

  I only knew her for a couple weeks but the spark was so strong and my feelings for her were so pure. When she shut me out, I felt the same thing as when Caroline hurt me all those years ago. Powerless, angry, and hurt. Except this time I feel like I’ve lost something that I actually want to get back, but I know I never will.

  She’s probably moved on by now. She’s found someone else. I moved away. It is what it is.

  Every day I get home when the sun comes up and I wonder why I’m doing this. Now that I’m here it feels like an empty goal. My dream is becoming a reality but all I want to do is share it with her. The taste of success has turned to ash in my mouth, and only Valerie Brooks can make it sweet again.

  I toss and turn until finally exhaustion overcomes me and I fall into the sweet relief of a dead sleep. Maybe I’ll be lucky and she’ll stay out of my dreams tonight.

  45

  Valerie

  “Hurry up, Val.”

  “I’m coming!”

  The impatience in Emma’s voice is just hovering beneath the surface of her words. Finally, I appear out of my bedroom and give her a twirl.

  “How do I look?” I say with a smile.

  “Fuckin’ smoking hot!” Emma exclaims.
“Now, let’s go!”

  She’s finally been able to drag me out on a Friday night. Ever since that last day with Clay I’ve kept to myself and buried myself in work. I’ve been at the top of the leaderboard for three months running, and tonight we’re celebrating my promotion.

  “Does this outfit scream ‘New York City’s youngest Regional Manager’ to you?” I ask as I slide my phone, wallet, and keys into my purse. Emma opens the front door and glances at me.

  “I’m getting more of a ‘fuck me’ vibe rather than ‘Regional Manager’, I’ll be honest.”

  “That works too, I guess,” I reply with a laugh.

  I’m the youngest Regional Manager in my company’s history. I should be happy, but it’s bittersweet. The success at work comes nowhere near the high I was on for those few weeks three months ago, when I met Clay. It all feels hollow and meaningless. Those weeks where everything was falling into place. I shake my head to dispel my dark thoughts. I should be celebrating.

  Emma is tapping her foot impatiently so I slip on my heels and head for the door.

  “I’m so glad you’re coming out with me, Val. It’s not healthy to be working as much as you are and not getting out. Next thing you know you’ll have 17 cats and you’ll be knitting them all sweaters for Christmas.”

  “Okay, first of all, there’s nothing wrong with knitting. Second of all, have you ever seen a kitten?” I protest. She rolls her eyes. “I’m just not ‘into’ the bar scene, I actually like being at home.”

  “It’s not about the bar scene and you know it. It’s that asshole doctor who messed you up.”

  I feel a stabbing pain in my heart when she mentions him. I’ve spent the past three months convincing myself that he is an asshole and I am better off without him.

  And yet…

  There’s a piece of me missing. After that day, I cried for three days straight. Emma was there, once again, to pick up the pieces. My thoughts flick back to that evening on the roof, under the twinkling lights of the city, when he made me an amazing meal and we made love, I mean really made love for the first time. I remember when we clinked our wine glasses together, he looked so strong and safe and handsome. His eyes were dark but they were sparkling with soft emotion and kindness.