Back in my office, I tried to calm myself down.
Being summoned to exam room six had been the reason for my escape, and at first, I’d headed there.
But my brain was like an unsolved crossword puzzle at the moment, and I didn’t think making up words based on the number of spaces in the answer was a solid strategy for practicing medicine.
Obviously, I couldn’t fucking go see a patient like this, so I hoped like Christ Marlene dug deep and found some people skills while she was waiting.
I wasn’t prone to emotional outbursts of any kind, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this close to hysteria. Normally, I was level-headed and rational, and I didn’t do Wild West showdown type scenes in the middle of my goddamn workday.
But last night with Melody had been more than a date. It’d been more than a couple of hours of monotonous conversation and flirty looks, and the sex had been more than two bodies rubbing against each other until somebody came.
It had been, quite literally, the best date of my life and then some, and the fact that some fucking guy was here, today of all days, acting like Melody was his made me want to tear this fucking place apart.
Smash things, slam priceless medical equipment into the wall, grind every last splinter of my mahogany desk to dust.
But Georgia had had Julia make me artwork for my desk, and fuck if I was willing to risk destroying it. So instead, I channeled my anger at the one thing I didn’t mind beating up a little—myself.
Grabbing the stupid fucking project I’d worked on instead of getting any real sleep last night, I slammed it into the garbage in the corner so violently it made a resounding clang as wood met metal.
It felt good to get out some of the surface rage, so I walked over to the wastebasket, pulled out the bouquet, and slammed it down again.
The reverberations of the second clang hadn’t even quieted when Melody opened my door, stepped through without asking, and closed and locked it behind her.
“Will,” she whispered softly, cutting through my anger and using a torch of memories to melt it all into hurt.
When she didn’t say anything else, and the back of my throat started to tingle with unshed tears, all I could do was raise my eyebrows. What the hell did she want from me? I wasn’t the one with the information.
God, my brain breathed in panic. Maybe there is no explanation. Last night, the weeks leading up to it, maybe all of it was a made-up fantasy. She hadn’t wanted to stay over. Maybe Melody was just like all the other crazy women out there—out for a night of scandalous fun with Dr. Obscene. Jesus, that’s a depressing thought.
“I’m so sorry for the scene out there,” she finally apologized. “I can’t believe he came here and did that in front of all of those people…”
My insides froze, waiting for the rest, unsure whether to prepare for elation or heartbreak.
“And?” I found my voice.
“And…I know it’s unprofessional.”
“Unprofessional?” My head started to pound in time with my heart, and neither of the two took it at an easy pace. The vacuum was strong, sucking me toward despair at a rapid speed and threatening to keep me there.
“Yes. I wouldn’t want you to see me that way.”
“That’s it?” I questioned disbelievingly.
“I…” She chewed her lip nervously and wrung her hands together. “Yeah, that’s it.”
Every single part of me revolted. My skin tried to shred, my bones turned to dust, and my heart raced to a strain before exploding.
The memory of the sensation of her so fresh in my mind I could feel it physically, I locked it down and poured virtual salt into my wounds.
The woman you’re mourning doesn’t exist.
“Wow.” I shook my head, my voice so thick with disgust it tasted like molasses. “Don’t worry, Mel. The way I’m viewing you now is nothing but professional.”
Crowding her, I moved to the door and grabbed the handle, hoping she’d get the hint and move out of the way. When she didn’t, I vocalized the implication. “Marlene needs me in exam room six.”
She didn’t move, so I forced it.
“Will, wait,” she cried as I pulled the door open a sliver, slamming it closed with her weight and her back.
“Mel—”
“No, Will. Wait. Please?”
I took a deep breath and backed up a step to look her in the eye. If everything I’d felt for her was really going to die, I was going to have to let her hold the hammer for the final nails.
“I’m not handling this well, I know. But I wasn’t expecting this.” She paused and sighed. “And I wasn’t expecting last night either.”
A spike of anxiety mingled with hope made a sharp pain contract in my chest. The shock of the defibrillator on my heart.
“And, what? You just thought you’d have one night with me and then go back to your boyfriend?”
Her eyes widened in horror. “No! God, no. He’s my ex-boyfriend.” Her voice dropped to a mutter as she spoke to herself. “Christ, Mel. Way to bury the very fucking important lead.”
Ex-boyfriend. Christ. Well, that was at least a little better. Still, I needed more of an explanation so I pushed on. “You thought last night was what, exactly? Help me get on the same page here, Mel.”
“I don’t know!” she huffed, frustrated. “At first I thought it was about your reputation, and then when the sex happened, I thought it was more about having fun.”
“Having fun?”
“Well, yeah.”
Is it really possible she didn’t feel what I did? Am I losing my mind here?
Christ. Maybe I was. I’d only known her for a month.
Forcing myself to remember what I was like, what I’d been looking for from a woman until Melody had walked into my life about two point five figurative seconds earlier, I took a deep breath.
I was a player. I slept around, I did it with people I worked with and didn’t, and I did it often. I met women in bars, took them home, slept with them, and never spoke to them again. I wasn’t exactly a pillar of society.
That, combined with the way I was being portrayed on TV and the fact that Melody didn’t actually know me that well at all suggested it wasn’t only fair of her to think this way, it was pretty much expected. If she were any other woman, I’d be worried if she wasn’t thinking this.
She couldn’t presume the way she made me feel, just like I couldn’t presume she felt the same. Only time could prove that.
In the meantime, I would just have to make sure she knew the difference between her and everyone else, that she felt the difference I so clearly did, and it wasn’t going to happen in a conversation. At least, not entirely.
There was no way I’d say the right thing.
No, actions were going to have to be my words, and I was going to have to be really fucking eloquent.
Too bad I’d been nothing but a big bag of awkward since I’d first laid eyes on her.
Fuck. Make the best of this, Will.
“You’re right. It was fun.” It was safe to say I paraphrased my inner monologue a bit. “And I want to keep having more of it. But I was kind of thinking our fun would be a two-person, no exceptions kind of activity. Aka, not having guys like Eli—”
His name reeked of disdain as it rolled off of my tongue.
“—show up with flowers for you. If you get flowers, they’re from me, and they’re made of fucking tongue depressors, goddammit.”
Okay. Maybe I should have taken another breath in the middle of that little speech. Seems the good attitude wore off by the end.
“What?”
I thought she was confused, naturally, but if I’d been paying attention to her more than my own mental breakdown, I would have noticed she wasn’t confused at all before she moved.
She pushed me aside, her hand reaching for the garbage behind me, and as I turned to look, I spotted what I already knew was there—the bouquet of tongue depressors I’d made this morning lying almost pristinely on top. Did I mention the five hours of uncertainty I’d had after she left? Well, turns out, I also had an old box of tongue depressors in my home office.
Goddammit. I would have thought I’d destroyed those things a little more.
Plucking one from the bundle, she held it up for closer inspection and read aloud the ridiculous words I’d written.
“There’s nothing depressing about your tongue.”
I looked away. Christ, that was a bad one.
“The back of your throat has never looked prettier.”
Okay, that one was worse.
“Will? What are these?”
I shook my head, but the intensity of her stare forced the motion to a stop. “Will.”
“They’re tongue-depressor-themed affirmations. You said you like to use them—”
“I know what I said,” she interrupted, her voice dropping to a whisper and her eyes dropping to the sticks in her hands. “I just can’t believe you did.”
I shrugged and told the truth. “I like you, Mel. It’s not that hard to remember when you say things. It’s not that hard at all.”