I’d spent all my energy getting back here, without thinking about how it impacted her. Now I had to convince her to give me a chance. I opened my mouth to speak, but didn’t know where to start. I considered Inigo’s drunk slur from The Princess Bride: ‘When a job goes wrong, Vizzini said to go back to the beginning.’
“Can I tell you how I would tell it?” I said. Her guarded eyes met mine.
“I got a phone call from a girl who stood up to me. Nobody talks back to me, they’re too scared. But she didn’t back down. When she told me to get my ass on a plane, I listened.” I ran my hand through my hair, squeezing tightly on the back of my neck. Her lips tightened into a tight line.
“I went straight to the hospital, and there she was. I don’t think she meant to stay, I think she fell asleep,” I said wryly, and her flush confirmed my theory. “Even though it was unlikely, after a stressful day of traveling, I wanted to believe that a beautiful woman would wait for me.”
Her lips parted and closed like they had that night, driving me to distraction wondering what she’d been about to say.
“When I worried about Dad, she was at my side. Her hand in mine, her kind offer of friendship. I don’t have many friends,” I thought about leaving it there, but she’d given me her honesty, she deserved mine too. “Or any, come to think of it. I wouldn't have wanted anybody else there with me. And I — I resented her for seeing me looking weak. And yet …”
I stepped closer. Slowly, cautiously. She leaned forward.
“I dreamed that night about her eyes in the moonlight, looking like they had flecks of gold. I convinced myself it was an effect of jet lag, and the next time I saw her, she’d be unremarkable. But the next day, I had to pry my eyes off her.”
A few more steps, until I was close enough to touch her.
“I liked her … but she was nice to everyone. She saw me as her friend’s grumpy brother, her last choice for Santa.”
Her lip tilted into a partial smile. Keep going.
“Even though I tried, I couldn’t stay away, even if it meant slicing a million apples. And when she told me about how much she’d gone through to become the beautiful woman I saw, all I saw was her bravery. I wondered why she trusted me, when I didn’t think I deserved it.” I sighed.
“Then at the tree farm, she looked so beautiful with snowflakes in her eyelashes, my scarf around my neck, I was ready to kiss her … until that fucking snowball hit my neck.”
She huffed a laugh and smiled, a real one. Apparently mentioning my discomfort — or maybe my sister — softened her up. File that away.
“She told me to stop taking everything so damn seriously. I played too hard and I hurt her. She wanted to be alone, but I needed to know she was safe.” I dropped to my knees, placing my hands outside her legs. Her hazel eyes bounced between mine, a ring of gold in the center shifting to green.
“So no, you didn’t force me, or trick me, or scare me off.” Her eyes scanned mine, her breathing shallow.
“I had to go. I had to, Grace. I’m sorry I didn’t call, I should have called. I didn’t think —” I shook my head, running a hand through my hair. “It’s a shitty excuse, but I’m not used to anybody caring where I am. I’m not used to considering anyone else’s feelings … but I was thinking about you.” I lifted my hand slowly, resting it tenderly on her cheek. She leaned into my palm.
“I spent the week distracted, trying to figure out how to get back to your gorgeous eyes.” I brushed my lips over her brow. “Your thoughtful mind.” I kissed her temple and her eyes dropped closed. “Your generous heart.” A graze along her cheek. “Your lovely voice.” My lips skimmed her jaw. “Your beautiful smile.”
Her palm smoothed my hair as I started to press a feather-light kiss to the corner of her mouth. She put her hands on my shoulders to hold me in place, touched her forehead to mine and sighed. If I listened closely enough, I might hear the war waging in her head, trying to decide if I was worth the risk.
“I can’t promise forever. My job, you see how demanding it is, and I’m so close to the next step. But I can give you this week. If that’s not enough, I understand … but if you want it, it’s yours.”
Her hands gripped my collar. “I hate how convincing you are.”
“It’s a blessing and a curse.”
She whispered, “I didn’t think you were coming back.”
“I know. But I’ve never …” My breath came out ragged. “I’ve never had anyone I wanted to go back for.”
She took a deep breath, mustering courage. “I’ll talk to your sister.”
“Yeah?” I said eagerly, then leaned forward to kiss her. And she let me … but her hands braced my shoulders, preventing me from taking it any farther.
“I have to go to work now,” she said quietly. When I didn’t move to give her room to stand, she smirked. “Don’t tell me you, of all people, are going to lecture me about working too much.”
She had me there. I stood, making space for her to pass.
“Stay,” she said, gently patting my chest. “Take a nap. I’ll walk to work and leave the truck for you. Meet me at your parents’ house.”
When she left, I tossed and turned, trying to figure out how to not fuck this up more than I already had. Frustrated, I called the only person who might know what to do. He answered with a laugh. “Did you lose another bet?”
Chapter 22Grace
Working on Christmas was a crap shoot. With only one social worker covering for a five-person team, the regular patient rounds were postponed. Some years were busy, the Emergency Department bustling with cases the medical staff flagged as domestic violence or substance abuse, while other years were slow and allowed time to catch up on paperwork.
Of course, this year — the first year that I had somebody waiting at home — it was more “Silent Night” than “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.” My desk was straightened, my emails were answered, my client intake and evaluation reports were done, and my to-do list for next year was prioritized … yet I vibrated with restlessness.
If it were busier, my thoughts might stop drifting to how tempting it had been to call out sick and stay in my bed with Alexander’s scruffy jaw, disheveled hair, and puffy lips. My mind kept replaying our conversation …
I’ve never had anyone I wanted to go back for.
I can’t give you forever, but I can give you this week. If you want it, it’s yours.
Antsy to escape my office, I headed to the pediatric nurses’ station, scanned through the list of admitted patients, and frowned at the name of a familiar patient spending her favorite holiday in the hospital.
Ruby was curled up in bed, a delicate pallor to her skin and an IV connecting her to a saline drip. Her heart monitor pulsed.
Her grandma Jean was crocheting quietly in the chair. I could tell the stress of grieving her daughter Sarah during the holidays was taking a toll, plus caring for a high-energy preschooler with a rare heart condition. After multiple heart surgeries most of her symptoms were mild, but she still had occasional lapses.
