FROM WHERE DARBY WAS SITTING, she could see hints of the sunrise coming up over the horizon. The window pane felt cool against her warm temple. She’d pulled on one of Michael’s t-shirts—she preferred the older ones, which were pleasantly soft.
She usually loved sleeping at Michael’s place, and whenever he was away, she secretly craved the gentle rocking of his waterbed. But that morning she was wide awake and feeling restless. She simply had too much on her mind. Things moved so fast in her everyday life that she rarely stopped to take stock. But her personal life had gotten so much better while her work life had gotten so much worse that she could no longer ignore the reversal.
She had changed. Everyone who knew her saw it. Proof came in the form of tiny observations. You’re smiling more, they told her. You look well-rested, they said. And Anne, being Anne, picked up on even more. Looks like Michael’s back in town, she’d say sometimes, and she was always right when she did. Somehow, whenever Michael was around, Darby had it written all over her.
But apart from of those moments, when she wasn’t thinking about all the fun she was having with Michael, she was hiding behind a veneer. Her future at the hospital was still uncertain. She still went in to work every day, ready to help addicts and their families navigate precarious circumstances. She still believed in her research and felt that a breakthrough was within reach. But Huck was her boss. And, no matter her merit, her career couldn’t be what she wanted, let alone thrive, without his support.
The worst part about it was that she couldn’t figure out how to appease him. Darby had never won any popularity contests, but she was the consummate professional and among those whose friendship she didn’t have, she had always been shown courtesy. She knew her fiery personality and straight talk weren’t for everyone, but when she spoke, she spoke the truth, and that fact earned her most people’s respect.
Darby knew that she had competitors, that other doctors at the hospital coveted the same funds she did, vied for the same promotions, and aspired to the same status. She’d long since learned to coddle those who viewed her as a threat, and had her ways of standing down to disarm them. But Huck could not be disarmed. He’d racked the slide on his shotgun. And it was pointed straight at her.
There was also the matter of her father. She hadn’t spoken to him again directly, but she’d been through enough election cycles to know how to interpret the political landscape. His predictions about Governors Prescott and Sanderson had come true. Prescott had fallen from grace two months ago at the Republican National Convention when humiliating pictures of him and a gay prostitute were discovered. Sanderson was centrist enough to capture the attention of critical swing voters, but he would need someone as far right as Frank to mobilize the more extreme right.
“I’m on Sydney time. What’s your excuse?” came Michael’s voice, deep from sleep and a little bit hoarse.
She hadn’t heard him come in, but it wasn’t the first time his sudden appearance had surprised her. The man moved like a cat. They’d met at his apartment the night before and shared a steamy reunion after another one of Michael’s business trips.
She didn’t know how much more she should tell him. She knew that she could trust him, but she was beginning to fear that the weight of her real life was too much for their fragile arrangement to bear. She already depended on Michael more than she should.
“Work stuff.”
He didn’t press her. But he did retreat to the kitchen, and placed a steaming cup of hot chocolate by her feet several minutes later. She was halfway through the creamy beverage when he emerged, striking as always in sleek pants and a button-down shirt. She realized she probably ought to leave, so she stood to get up, setting her cup on the counter and wracking her brain to remember where her clothes may have fallen in their haste to get their hands on one another the night before. He stood by the same counter, and she put a hand on his stomach before standing on her toes to kiss his jaw. Her own cocoa-scented morning breath discouraged her from kissing him on the lips like she would have preferred.
Her hand began to slide off of his stomach, but didn’t make it past his hip bone before his own hand stopped her from walking away. She looked back at him.
“Go back to bed. Fire up the Jacuzzi if you want. Stay here and watch movies all day.”
She started to say no but stopped herself, realizing how stupid it would be to turn down his offer. What she wanted right then was to stay in her ivory tower, to avoid returning to a house that would surround her with her things and her problems. She wanted to keep staring out at the city. She wanted space to think. Minutes after he kissed her goodbye, she climbed back into the warm comfort of his bed, staring out at the skyline before drifting into a deep, Michael-scented sleep.