It was Friday. I loved Fridays. I only worked until about noon since the office shut down early, and I’d always head down to the French-inspired café near my apartment for lunch, and I’d pour over paperwork with a hot cafe au lait and a slice of my favorite quiche often followed by macaroons or an eclair, or maybe both. I loved sweets. They were my one vice. I didn’t smoke. I only occasionally imbibed in the social drink. I didn’t fuck random women. No, I ate cookies and cakes, and I fucking loved them. Work and sweets, they were my only vices. I worked way more hours than most doctors in my field, but I was committed to the cause—more invested than most of my colleagues.
So, there was a certain pep in my step as I exited my car and walked across the street to the café, and it had nothing to do with the fact I had to walk past Kelly’s car to get there. I wasn’t happy she was there two floors above me. I was just excited to be off for the rest of the day even if it really wasn’t off. It seemed that something always came up. Or that I was always swamped in piles of paperwork I needed to do. I still fucking loved what I did.
I was halfway across the street when I saw her. Or I should say felt her. My skin prickled with an awareness and my eyes shot around and somehow I just knew she’d be there, and sure enough she was. It was a brisk fifty-degree day, but the sun was shining and she sat right in front of my beloved Friday café bundled up in a big coat that was almost too small for her and a hat pulled low over her ears to block the chill. Her hair was down and hung over her shoulders, and she was writing on a piece of paper in front of her furiously, the wires from what looked like earbuds dangling from her ears. Those small ears of hers. I wanted to lean over and run my lips over the tiny lobes. They were as precious as I remembered from years ago.
I was interrupting, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. I couldn’t seem to stay away. I had little willpower when it came to this small girl. Just like I hadn’t been able to stop myself from going over to see her the past couple of nights. Often, she just sat there and ignored me, but last night she’d tossed me the remote and said, “Watch whatever you want.”
It had felt like a victory. Maybe a small one, but one nonetheless.
In fact, I’d only seen her hours ago at the office when she’d come in for an appointment. We’d poured over her files and come up with one hell of a game plan. But seeing her there, I couldn’t stop myself.
So, I slid into the seat across from her slowly as to not scare her and leaned back in the seat even though the metal was cold on my back and ass even through my shirt and coat. Pushing my big legs out underneath the table, I crossed them at the ankles and knocked my ankle to hers. It felt good, so I foolishly kept it there and that’s when her blue eyes drifted up slowly from the piece of paper and looked me in my own.
She stared at me for what felt like an hour but was probably a full minute, her expression beyond annoyed. One side of my mouth hitched up. I couldn’t help it. She was beautiful and adorable, even more so when she was riled up.
Plucking the earbuds out of her ears, she said, “This is getting awkward, Anthony.”
The other side of my mouth hitched up, too, now. “How so?”
“This whole stalking thing. It’s getting out of hand.” Her face said she was bored, but I could read the playfulness in her eyes. She loved it when I bothered her.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“That’s what I’m calling it.”
“Well, I call it friendship.” I said it nonchalantly, but I realized right then that I meant it. I liked her so much, back then and now. I couldn’t resist her.
She pursed her lips. She had a habit of that whenever she was displeased, and I thought it was possibly the most hilariously cute thing ever. “Is that what we are?”
Raising my eyebrows, I asked sincerely, “Isn’t it?”
She looked away from me and scanned the street like she was looking for answers in the cars that drove by. She didn’t consider us friends and part of me was overjoyed. I could do my job without entanglements. That was the best outcome here, but I knew better even then. Even with her only being back in my life for mere days.
“Besides, you’re at my café,” I shot out there, trying to lighten the mood, which had turned somber.
Her eyes flew back in my direction before she got up and walked toward the street and turned around, looking up at the front of the building.
She was almost in the street and she was making me nervous, she and her precious basketball belly standing in the road, her coat gaping open at her stomach.
“What are you doing? Get out of the road.”
She stepped forward, smiling. “Just looking for your name on the front of the building, Doc.”
Standing up, I reached for her instinctively, grabbing her hand in mine. “It’s not on the front of the building, little bit.”
She tried to pull her hand from mine, but I held it tighter, realizing how cold it was.
“Your hands are like ice,” I said, grabbing her other small hand also and cupping both of them in my big hands. I brought them to my mouth and blew warm air on them softly.
I didn’t think about it. I just did it. It was intimate. Something that only a significant other or a family member would do to someone, but it all just felt too right with her. Normal.
She watched, her hands in mine, seemingly fascinated with the sight.
I dropped her hands, embarrassed, when I noticed her watching me so intently with her palms held in mine and almost pressed to my lips.
“Come inside. I’ll buy you lunch.” I grabbed her papers she’d been working on from the table and clutched them in my hands awkwardly.
Her cheeks were pink, and I wondered whether it was from cold or me.
“I think I’m gonna head home. I’m a bit tired.”
She was good. She knew that whatever was happening was a bad idea. She was being smart. I wasn’t, but I found myself giving less of a fuck and wanting to feel more. It was an awful dilemma, but matters of the heart usually were. And unfortunately for us, too many hearts were involved.
“I won’t take no for an answer. They have the best desserts ever. You gotta eat, right?” I grabbed her hand again, but this time I knew what I was doing as I opened the door with the small bell that dinged so familiarly. I walked in feeling like I was home.
Pulling her behind me, I dragged her to my booth and scooted in, laying her papers across from me where I expected her to sit.
“Get in, Kelly.”
She stared at me for a bit before she sat with a huff, looking around the booth before her eyes zeroed in on the plaque below the window that read, Dr. Anthony Jackson.
She rolled and then narrowed her eyes at me.
I smiled, all teeth.
I pointed to the small gold plaque below the window. “See, my café.”
“Duly noted.” She huffed out a laugh. “I can’t even with you.”
I grabbed the menus from the small holder on the table and held it out to her.
She shook her head. “Nah, just order me whatever you usually have. I’m guessing you know what all the good stuff here is.”
Placing the menus back in the holder, I asked, “So, what are you working on?” I motioned to the papers in front of her.
“Just music.” She shrugged.
“Like writing music?”
“Yep.”
I was frustrated. I wanted her to open up, elaborate. I wanted more than one-word answers and nights seated too far away from her on a couch that seemed way too big.
“You’re a woman of very few words. I remember a time when I couldn’t get you to shut up.”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “Yeah, well, Doc, that was a long time ago. I was a kid then.”
I realized it then. She was still angry with me. About that night. It shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. My memories of her were laced with lust, heat, laughter, and something on the cusp of young love. She remembered the ending. Not the beginning or all the good stuff in between. It was my fault.
I swallowed hard. “About that night—”
Her wide eyes snapped to mine. “What night?”
I leaned forward, closer to her across the booth. “The night,” I whispered.
Shaking her head, she whispered back, “Don’t.”
I was frustrated. I wanted to tell her. I wanted to talk it out. I wanted it out in the open. Free. So we could move the hell on.
“Why?”
“Because it doesn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago.” She smiled sadly. “We were young and stupid, and we both made mistakes that night.”
I knew what my mistake was, but what was hers? “What was—”
“Anthonyyyy,” Isabelle, the owner, sang out, placing two glasses of water in front of us.
I turned to see her striding toward us and looked back at Kelly. Her face was full of relief. We’d talk about this later.
“Hey, honey,” I said, standing up and meeting Isabelle right outside the booth. We hugged before I settled back in the booth.
“The usual?” Isabelle asked.
“Yep, ‘cept make it a double.” I motioned toward Kelly. “Isabelle, this is my friend Kelly.”
“Nice to meet you.” Kelly smiled up at Isabelle.
“You, too.”
Isabelle waggled her eyebrows at me. “She’s pretty, Ant,” she sang out.
I looked at Kelly with her hat pushed down over her eyebrows, her cheeks red from the cold weather, her blue eyes shining with intensity. Her creamy white skin begging for my touch. “She is.”
Isabelle giggled. “Okay, well, I’ll leave you two to it and get your food started. Let me know if you need anything.”
She sashayed away, and Kelly just stared at me.
“What?” I questioned.
“Ant? What’s with the hugs? The booth?” She gestured toward the plaque with her head.
“ASD, also known as Atrial Septal Defect.”
Her face was confused. “What?”
“It’s a common heart defect in babies. That’s what Isabelle and Marco’s baby boy was born with.”
Realization dawned on her face. “And you saved his life.”
“Me and an amazing team of doctors I worked under.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
She laughed. “I’m surprised they didn’t give you the entire damn restaurant.” Then her face got serious. “I would have.”
I bet she would have, too. I could tell her baby girl meant everything to her.
I smiled. “Well, I do have my own booth, and all the food I can eat, which is pretty damn good. Besides, I don’t have a fucking clue how to run a restaurant.”
“But you said, you were buying me lunch. And now you’re telling me you eat for free.”
“Ahh…but I am. With my expert doctoring skills.”
“And I thought your mom was a nut.”
I laughed.
“So what kinda music are you working on?”
“I don’t know.” She paused, studying the sheet of paper in front of her. “It’s not anything special. I just sometimes write when I’m feeling anxious.”
She had every right to feel anxious. “Is that what you did these past ten years? Write music?”
A sarcastic laugh fell from her lips. “Nope. I took off with my band, traveled the world. Followed my dreams. And guess what, Doc?”
“What?”
“Ten years on the road, countless nights slept in a packed van, and I have shit to show for it.”
“Except the experience.”
Her gaze flew to mine. “What?”
“Except you followed your dreams and you traveled and you got to play music. You may not have a lot to show for it, but you did it, and you’ll remember it forever.”
“I guess,” she said softly. It made me sad that she never made it big. She had such passion. She loved playing the fucking drums.
“I didn’t see your drums in the apartment. You storing them somewhere?”
“Nah. I sold them.”
“Why?” I was shocked. She needed those drums like I needed my stethoscope. They were a part of her.
“I needed the money. And I don’t need them. I need a crib. Diapers. The drums just aren’t a priority right now.”
She was sad, I could tell, and it broke my heart. I wanted to push into the other side of the booth and pull her into my arms. I wanted to tell her everything was going to be okay. That she could have her music and her baby. But I couldn’t even promise that.
The heart was fickle, fragile even, and one moment everything could be smooth sailing and the next arduous. All I could do was promise I would try, and I’d already done that.
Isabelle delivered our food, and I was glad for the distraction. Kelly was so melancholy. I imagined her sitting around the apartment all day bored and thinking and worrying over the baby in between all of her doctors’ appointments. No music. No friends. It was a good thing she had me around, I told myself.
Isabelle finished placing all the plates on the table, and Kelly’s mouth fell open. “Dear Lord, you did not order all this food.”
Isabelle laughed as she left our table, and I looked at all of the food. Four large pieces of quiche. Six macaroons. Two eclairs. Two tarts. I’d ordered double, so it looked right to me.
“I did,” I confirmed.
“Why?” she almost yelled out.
“Because I’m hungry?”
“Doc, there’s no way in hell you can eat all of this, even with my help.”
I completely disagreed. I could eat all of this even without her help. “Sure I can. I’m a big guy, bite size, or haven’t you noticed?”
Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, and the pink in those cheeks told me she had noticed and that she liked it and for some reason that made me ridiculously happy.
“Eat.”
She rolled her eyes, her lips pursing.
“Doctor’s orders.” I smiled mischievously.
At that, she ate.
And I watched her. I’d never sat across from anyone at my favorite café before. I hadn’t realized I was missing anything special before that day. Until I watched her moan around a mouthful of cheese and crust. Until she laughed when she dropped a bit of cream on the front of her jacket. Until she smiled and chatted with Isabelle like they were old friends all afternoon. I’d thought my life was full. But in that moment, I was acutely aware of how wrong I’d been. I’d been missing her all these years and didn’t even realize it.