“NO YOU DIDN’T!” Allie gasped through the phone.
“I so did.” I touched my lips, remembering. They still scorched at the thought of Bryce kissing them the night before.
“London, you filthy whore.”
“Whore?” I felt the blood drain from my face. “It was a heated kiss in the back of a movie theater. He didn’t even get past second base.”
“Um . . . I know. I was joking.” Allie rectified her snide remark. “So, that was like what, date number three or four?”
“Well, not counting the times I see him at the hospital, it was actually date number five. And get this, he sends these lavish floral arrangements to the salon the morning after every date. He really is the sweetest thing.” I was swooning like a gossipy teenager. My eyes danced around the lavender bedroom and I realized not much had changed since I was sixteen. Other than a decade and a divorce, of course.
“And you still haven’t slept with him?” Her voice rose an octave. “London, you’re no whore, you’re a naïve nun.”
“Al-lie!”
“What? Don’t you know the three date rule?”
“No!” I didn’t. I had no clue how the rules worked; that’s why I called her. I imagined dating in your twenties and thirties was a lot different than dating in high school.
“Girl.” Allie lowered her tone and got down to business. “Get with it. You haven’t gotten any for a year. Aren’t you dying to get into that doctor’s scrubs?”
I blushed at the thought. It had been too long.
Am I ready for it?
There was a time immediately after breaking up with Hunter when that need vanished, buried itself deep beneath the pain of grief. I wondered when it would return, or if it ever would. Now that I was dating Bryce, that need was back with a vengeance. I was definitely ready, just scared shitless.
I cleared my throat and emptied a string of irrational concerns onto my single friend. “What if he hasn’t tried because he doesn’t want to? What if I’m terrible at it? What if I call out Hunter’s name in the middle of having sex with Bryce?”
“Oh my God, London. Relax yourself.” Allie was laughing, but I knew she’d pull through. I couldn’t talk to Sam about this, and of all my friends, she had the most experience with men. She was still single and wasn’t looking to settle down anytime soon. I often envied her free-spirited, independent nature, but I wasn’t sure I could live that way. She dated at random and definitely paid no mind to that three date rule. I, on the other hand, was a one-man kind of woman. As in, I’d been with one man my entire life. And now there was Bryce. I wanted him, I was sure of that, but was I ready to take this to the next level? Were five dates enough? Did I truly know him well enough to give that part of me over to him?
“Something’s burning,” Allie interrupted my crazy train of thought.
“What? Are you cooking something?”
“No! I’m talking about you! Your brain. I can smell it burning off those thoughts all the way from here.”
I giggled. “Am I that transparent?”
Allie cackled uncontrollably, obnoxious snorts and all. When she was finally done laughing at my expense, she continued with more sage advice. “Yes, but it’s okay. I know this is an adjustment for you, but you have to trust me—and your gut. I haven’t seen you this happy in a long damn time. Just run with that, okay?”
She had a point. Bryce did make me happy. I had to stop overthinking and just . . . run with it, like she said. “I’m glad we had this chat. I couldn’t exactly talk to my mom, or Sam, about any of this.”
“Oh!” She snorted again. “Those are two conversations I’d like a front row seat for.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t that be—” My giggles were cut short by a loud crash coming from the kitchen.
“London!”
Shit! “Allie, I have to go. It’s my Mom. I’ll call you back.”
I pressed the end button and flew downstairs, still clutching the phone. When I reached the bottom of the steps, I could see Mom had fallen, a plate of food and a mug of tea broken and splattered on the floor beside her.
“Mom!” I rushed to her. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I don’t know. I felt . . . lightheaded.”
I knelt down, inspecting her further. Her color was off. Her face was cold and clammy to the touch. Pulling her lids up higher, I noticed the whites of her eyes were darker—yellower—than usual. “Mom! I think it’s jaundice.” Shit, this isn’t good. “We have to go to the hospital.” I could take her or call 9–1-1. Or . . .”Bryce! I have to call Bryce!
“Is she going to be okay?”
I waited until I was outside of my mother’s hospital room to break down. She was finally stable but still hooked up to machines. The simple act of drawing in a breath exhausted her, and reports showed she was definitely not out of the woods.
Worry wracked my brain, causing me to tremble.
“London, calm down. She’ll be okay,” Bryce murmured, pulling me against his chest.
Under different circumstances, I would not be hugging my mother’s doctor in the middle of the ICU. But screw the formalities. I needed comfort and Bryce was here to offer it.
“What does this mean? She was doing so well.” I pulled back, hoping to gauge honesty in his reaction. How could I decipher whether Bryce was placating me just to be kind or being truthful because that was his job? I still didn’t know him well enough to tell, not the way I knew Hunter’s every gesture.
“London.” He eyed me sternly, all doctor-like, commanding my composure. “I have everything under control. This is very common in your mother’s stage of the disease. We’ll monitor her overnight and go from there, but in the meantime, getting yourself worked up is no good for you or for her.” Bryce caged my face in his warm hands, our noses inches apart. For a beat, I thought he was going to kiss me—this wasn’t the place, nor the time—but then he smiled, a bright, reassuring grin that reached all the way to his whiskey-colored eyes, his spider-leg-length lashes adding to the impressive package.
“It’s been a trying day, beautiful.” It was hard to miss the way his tongue crept out to wet his lips when he spoke the endearment. It was hard to focus on anything but his proximity, even amidst beeping machines and the overhead noise of intercom pages. It was hard not to melt into a puddle at his feet and beg him to make this all better. But I had to be stronger than that. For Mom. For my dignity. For me.
Using his reassuring gaze for strength, I took a deep breath and then peered down at the ground. Bryce quickly craned my head so our eyes met once again before taking charge. “I suggest you go in there, give her a kiss, and tell her she’s in good hands—because these are some excellent hands, baby.”
That made me laugh. A moment of solace. I sniffled the sadness away and smiled back at him, thankful.
He swiped his thumb under my eye, clearing away the last of the tears. “Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow’s a new day.”
He sounded a lot like my mother. Ever so optimistic. “You two will get along great.” I slapped my mouth shut with my palm as soon as I realized what I said.
Of course Bryce knew my mother because she was his patient, but my statement was very bold. It alluded to a future that was too soon to think about. “I-I didn’t mean anything by that, you know?”
Bryce smirked, his hands traveling the length of my arms to entangle all ten of his fingers with all ten of mine. “You’re very sexy when you’re nervous.”
Oh, God. What is he doing to me? My eyes went wide, my heart thumping a reckless drumbeat. “I am? I mean . . . oh my God, I really should shut up and go home.”
“That’s a good idea.” He chuckled. “Not shutting up . . . going home. You haven’t eaten all day and I’m sure you’ll want to be here for her tomorrow. You have to take care of you, too.”
I let that seep in. Innocently, I closed my eyes, rolled my head back, and bit my lower lip. I sighed as my mind fluttered with a mix of countless emotions.
“Don’t do that here.” It was a breathy growl.
“Do what?” My eyes were back on his in an instant. They were dark, amplified, intense.
He looked around to assess our surroundings. We were pretty much alone in this corner of the hallway. Once he realized no one was around, Bryce leaned lower and grazed my ear with a whisper. “Your face just now. I imagine that’s what you’d look like when you . . . when I make you come.”
Burning. Throbbing. Aching. I pressed my thighs together to control the sudden current of pleasure. I wasn’t sure, but I could’ve sworn a desperate moan escaped my lips before Bryce stood tall and made a show of straightening his white coat.
I was speechless. Awestruck. That mouth. No man had ever spoken to me like that before. Not even Hunter. It stole my breath, my sanity. It was positively thrilling.
Bryce cleared his throat, his eyes never shifting from me. They caressed my heated skin, almost penetrating my deepest, darkest, dirtiest thoughts. And then he was back to business. “I have more patients to see. Will you be okay getting home? I can arrange for a car or—”
“No, no, no.” My voice was raspy, pathetic. Look what you’ve done to me. I swallowed to dislodge my nerves. “You’ve done so much already, Bryce. Really. Thank you for everything. For helping my mother.” For igniting something inside of me that lay dormant for too long.
“Anything for you.” He winked.
I held on to the wall so I wouldn’t pass out.
Silence blanketed us. We were two people, unsure of what came next.
Bryce bent forward and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. “Go home. I’ll call to check in on you later. Remember, she’s in good hands.” He held them out in front of me, wiggling his long, deft fingers.
I wanted to reach out and touch them again, allow them to touch and feel me, too. But I restrained with a smile and a nod, and merely said, “Later.”
Back in her room, I tucked my mother in and kissed her good night as Bryce suggested. She sent me off with a tired smile and a reassuring squeeze of my hand. She already looked better than she had when we first arrived in a frenzy, and my mind was more at ease, knowing she had a team of people looking out for her. That she had Bryce looking out for her.
As I exited the room and started for the elevator, my body still tingled from the threat of his words. It was crazy. In the middle of such a mess, amid worrying about my mother, Bryce had found a way to get me all hot and bothered.
All the wine in the world would not drown out my fears. Not that I had all the wine in the world to test that theory. There was a measly glassful of Merlot left at the house and all the stores were already closed.
The house was quiet. Too quiet, for my taste. The ticking of the ridiculous cuckoo clock my mother had in the kitchen for as long as I could remember drove me to the brink of madness. It was one of those antique Monroe family heirlooms she couldn’t bear to part with. I, on the other hand, found it creepy. Thankfully, the stupid birds that used to chirp and squawk every hour on the hour had stopped working a long time ago. Which only left the incessant ticking . . . and the silence.
I never liked being home alone. Even as a kid, while Mom was working and Memphis was at baseball or hockey and the house was empty, I would go next door to Sam’s or he came here to keep me company.
And then there was my house with Hunter, the only other place I’d lived aside from here. When he first left, I lay awake most nights, fearful but stubborn. I really tried to be brave. But when that didn’t work, I cried myself to sleep, exhaustion kicking in and overriding my fears.
I learned to adjust in his absence, but then the house foreclosed, my bank account was lower than low, and before I knew it, I was back here. In hindsight, moving home was a blessing, but it was also a setback. I was a twenty-six-year-old woman who’d never lived on her own. Maybe I never would.
I turned up the volume on the television to drown out my thoughts and that damn clock. A rerun of Friends made me smile. It was an early episode where Ross was still pining over Rachel. I busied myself by tidying an already immaculate kitchen and putting away laundry. But I was scared to be alone, plain and simple. I would’ve been better off staying at the hospital and sleeping in the uncomfortable chair next to my mother’s bed. At this rate, I had no idea how I’d get through the night—and it was too late to call anyone.
Sam was still away, Emilia and Allie were most likely already asleep, my brother and I didn’t have that kind of relationship, and Mom was bound to a hospital for another night of unanswered questions and worries. That left Bryce, who was working. And even if he wasn’t, I didn’t want to call on him to rescue the damsel in distress. Not twice in one day.
It was eleven o’clock on a Thursday night in July and I felt completely helpless. Loneliness crept into the marrow of my bones like a ghost haunting every atom of my body. That hollowness manifested, spreading, burrowing, sinking deeper with each second that ticked by, taunting me cruelly.
I stared blankly at the bright flashes moving across the television screen. A commercial now. An advertisement for some Viagra-like wonder drug. And then a teaser for a movie coming out next week. A horror film, of course. That’s all I needed. One glimpse of that disturbing, possessed demon-child and I was jumping off the couch and galloping up the stairs two at a time.
There were sleep-aids in the medicine cabinet. I’d take two, bury myself under the covers, leave all the lights on, and pray for sleep. Good plan, scaredy cat, I thought to myself, and then I heard something downstairs.
“Shit! You’ve got to be kidding me!” I whisper-yelled. In my panicked state I couldn’t tell if the sound was a knock at the front door, a forceful bang at the window, or simply the wind brushing a branch against the aluminum siding.
My pulse sprinted to an alarming rate, my limbs beginning to tremble. I was here alone and there was no hiding it. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree and whoever was outside trying to get in had to know someone was home. Fight or flight kicked in at some point after I nearly peed my pants, and I searched the bathroom for my phone. I remembered bringing it upstairs with me, knowing I’d be turning in for the night. Sure enough, it was next to the hamper where I left it while I washed my face.
I lunged for the lifeline, ready to call 9–1-1 to explain there was an intruder. Yeah, I was jumping the gun, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I was not going out like one of those idiots in the movies. Nope, I was staying put and calling for back up. If it was a false alarm . . . oh, well, at least I lived to see another day.
But as I locked the bathroom door behind me and steadied my shaky hand to open the phone with my thumbprint, an incoming call lit up the screen.
Bryce calling . . .
Oh my God! I’m saved! “Hello?” My voice was laced with terror, there was no denying that.
“London? Are you okay? You sound—”
“I think someone’s trying to break into my house!” I cupped my mouth and the phone, speaking softly. No need to give away my location to the nutcase on his rape and pillage mission.
“London, oh my God! I’m so sorry. It’s me. I’m outside. I just knocked on the door. I didn’t mean to scare you. I probably should’ve called or texted first, but I-I wanted to surprise you.” He sounded so apologetic, I could actually picture his olive complexion paling as the color drained from his face.
I exhaled for a good sixty-seconds and closed my eyes. Relief flooded my overcharged veins, my heart rate finally slowing. Bryce is here. Nine million thoughts should’ve run through my head. Never mind that I had no idea what he was doing here at this hour or how he knew where I lived . . . I wasn’t alone anymore. There was no intruder. I was safe!
“Holy shit! You don’t know how happy I am that you’re here! I’ll be right down.”
I didn’t care how that made me sound—overzealous, desperate, weak. Those few minutes when I thought my life was in danger were the scariest ever. I needed human contact. I needed Bryce.