by Katy Kaylee
Even though I felt stupid for hoping that.
3
Alex
The next day I was struggling to get my head on straight as I got ready for the day. I was renting an apartment a couple of blocks from the hospital, a lot more modest of a place than my Malibu house back home, but I’d give up a lot of it if it meant I was close to the hospital. I wanted to be able to get to Tabitha in minutes if something went wrong. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than being stuck in traffic while Tabitha needed me.
I’d built that Malibu house from the ground up, actually. All according to my detailed specifications. I’d dreamed about it for years and had worked with only the best in the business, picking out everything from the tiles in the shower to the heated floors in the kitchen to the types of plants that lined the walk.
Tabitha had her own room there, now. When she was feeling up to it I’d bring crayons and paper and we’d draw the room, coloring the walls how she wanted, drawing up ‘plans’ for how she wanted it to be decorated. I didn’t care if she wanted her room to be all black or eye-searing orange or full of bright pink unicorns. We could always re-decorate it in a few years if she wanted something different.
This apartment that I was currently in was smaller and more modest than I had grown used to. It was a good thing, but it had taken a bit to remind myself of that. I resented some things at first, like the noise from other tenants, and the smaller size, and the inability to just do whatever I wanted to the space because I was renting and not owning.
I’d realized, a few months in, what a snob I was being. I had come from roots a lot humbler than this. I’d come from basically nothing. Of course that might not have mattered so much if my family hadn’t been so damn dysfunctional.
Dysfunctional was probably the nicest way of putting it. My father was outright abusive. Violent and drunk all the time. I’d had to dodge a lot of his blows and when I’d gotten big enough that I could start hitting back, he’d beaten me within an inch of my life and had kicked me out of the house. Lacey had been terrified of him.
I should’ve gone back and gotten her out. I should’ve helped her run away to join me. I’d always kept her safe growing up but… I guess I’d just been too eager to seize my freedom. To run away and forget all of that awful life that I’d known. Mom had never been any help. She’d been severely depressed, suicidal a lot of the time, and most of her days she’d just been in bed, sleeping. Lethargic. No protection against Dad, no help for either Lacey or me.
Lacey told me she was okay, that Dad was never as bad with her as he was with me, and I mean by the time I left, Lacey was also in high school, she was able to get out soon after as well but… still. I should’ve done better, as her brother. I failed her, and I only recently came back into her life, and I didn’t know if I’d ever really stop carrying that guilt.
At least I could somewhat make it up to my sister by looking after her daughter. I loved Tabitha for her own sake, for her own self, but I also loved her because she was my niece, my sister’s child, and if I could do for her what I hadn’t done for my sister… then maybe I could make some progress in forgiving myself.
So, yes. Being in this tiny shower and dealing with all the issues that came with it was good for me. It reminded me of where I’d come from, the places I had blocked out from my memory and my identity. I needed to do more for people who were like me, people who’d come from humble beginnings like me. Having this visceral reminder of how most people in the world lived was helping me to be a better person, and I embraced that.
Although it seemed that in one aspect of my life I wasn’t improving as much as I’d thought.
There was nothing wrong with sleeping with a lot of people. I saw no harm in it so long as all the partners were willing. But there was something to be said about the lack of meaningful connection, the lack of real strong relationships. I had been so focused on just following my dick, being with every woman that I found attractive, not working on deepening the connection beyond that. I’d promised myself that I would do better, be a good example for Tabitha, show her how a gentleman was supposed to behave, what she should expect from men.
And then I had to go and meet her new doctor and now all my good intentions were flying out the window.
I couldn’t get Claire out of my mind. Dr. Montague, I should say, but in my head I couldn’t stop calling her Claire. She was young, which was a concern of mine. She hadn’t seemed too pleased about me asking after her age. Did she think that I thought she was too young for me? Too inexperienced?
Didn’t matter, she was young, at least ten years younger than I was, and she was Tabitha’s doctor. That made her off limits in two ways, at least. I kept trying to tell myself to forget her, but those curves—that thick red hair, perfect for pulling—
My cock started to swell between my legs, getting hard. That fiery look on her face when I’d asked about her age, it stirred up heat in me like nothing else. I wanted to win her over, to see that expression of frustration morph into one of pleading. Her mouth was lush and I wanted to seize that bottom lip in my teeth and tug, slide my tongue inside her, hear her begging for me.
Dammit. I was aching and hard, and I felt bad for it, but—nobody had to know. It was just a fantasy, didn’t mean I would be acting on it.
I wrapped my hand around my cock, imagining that sliding it inside of her, that she was clenching hot and tight around me. There was enough room in this shower that I could turn and fuck her against the wall if I wanted, and I sped up my strokes as I imagined sucking at her neck, my hand at her breast, teasing her, touching every part of her that I could reach. I wanted to know what her skin tasted like, what she sounded like as she moaned in ecstasy.
God, I wanted to take my time with her and get through that tough exterior, make her beg and whimper. See those gorgeous green eyes go wide with desire. Feel her hands in my shoulders, my back, digging in as she rode me. I’d tease her and get her to forget everything in the world except please and my name.
A small groan escaped me as I twisted my wrist, swiped my thumb over the head of my cock, wondered if she would get down on her knees for me, if she would suck me off, what it would feel like to spill down her throat or inside of her—God I wanted to come inside her, I wanted to feel her coming around me, screaming, I wanted her to be so worn out and filled with pleasure that she couldn’t even move or speak—
I came hard, staining the tiled wall, my breath punched out of me and my legs trembling. I hadn’t wanted a woman this badly in… I couldn’t even remember the last time, actually. Flirting with women was a fun sport, it was something that I enjoyed, and it was the thrill of the chase and the banter that got me. Then I had my fun, she had her fun, we moved on.
But this—this desire that I couldn’t get out of my head, this need to see what she tasted like, felt like, sounded like. It was messing with my head and I felt almost like a teenager all over again, beset on all sides by hormones and desires that I couldn’t control and feeling knocked sideways.
I finished my shower, feeling guilt settle in my chest now that I had dealt with my desire. Or at least banked the fires of it somewhat. This was the doctor of my niece. This was the woman who was helping to save Tabitha’s life. I couldn’t be thinking this way about her. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t proper, and it would get me into huge trouble if it was found out. I just had to refocus myself. I had gotten her out of my system, I’d thought about her, imagined her, and now I could move on.
Hopefully, I had a meeting with the chief oncologist that day. It was at the hospital and all that so you would think that it would instead distract me further, but this wasn’t meeting with the lovely Dr. Montague, and it was discussing Tabitha’s health. Everything else fell by the wayside when I was focusing on her. Tabitha had to get better. That was the most important thing.
By the time I got down to the hospital to meet with Dr. Franklin, the chief oncologist, I was feeling a lot more in the zone and focused on Tabitha.
There, I’d done it, I’d thought about Dr. Montague and I’d gotten her out of my system, it was all good, and I could move on now.
Dr. Franklin was a man in his late thirties, with dark hair and dark sparkling eyes. He looked like the kind of guy that kids easily relaxed around, the kind of person with a fun and cheerful presence, and I appreciated that. I wanted Tabitha to be surrounded by doctors who made her feel comfortable, doctors that she could see as friends who were helping her because that was what they were doing—trying to help her.
“Mr. Conner.” He shook my hand. “Thank you for coming in. Please, sit down.”
I had to admit, Dr. Franklin better fit my image of what a traditional doctor would look like—older, with a steady air and even a pair of glasses, although his made him look like that kind of handsome English professor you had an affair with in undergrad. I was sure that the single moms who met him just fell all over themselves talking to him.
“Is there any news?” I asked.
“We’ve gone over Tabitha’s scans,” Dr. Franklin confirmed. My stomach knotted. I was sure that there couldn’t be anything possibly worse than what I already knew, but… I couldn’t help but worry. “I can confirm the diagnosis of my colleagues back in Los Angeles. They were kind enough to send over their own scans and I cross-referenced everything just to be safe.”
Of course, I didn’t think that the doctors at Cedar-Sinai had been wrong. The Los Angeles hospital had some of the best doctors in the nation there, although Boston’s hospital beat them out by a slim margin. But it still hurt to hear it all confirmed one more time like that, to know that my little girl’s life really was hanging in the balance like this.
Dr. Franklin gave me a reassuring half-smile. “That doesn’t mean that you should give up hope, Mr. Conner. With an aggressive treatment Tabitha can beat the leukemia. We just have to pick a course and get on it. Time is of the essence here.”
I nodded. Made sense to me. And I was ready and willing to do whatever it took so that Tabitha could heal and have a normal and healthy life, free of illness and pain.
I was just about to ask about treatment options and what possibilities were available—money was of no concern, of course—when there came a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Dr. Franklin called.
The door opened and in stepped, of all people, Dr. Montague.
Oh fuck. In the span of a split second all of my hard work and determination to forget her, to declare her out of my system, was gone. She was so attractive I could hardly speak, my tongue feeling heavy and too large in my mouth, heat sliding down my spine treacherously. She was as gorgeous as I’d remembered, with her bright eyes and sharp cheekbones, the curves that her doctor’s coat couldn’t hide, and her thick bright hair.
I had to swallow a few times to try and get some kind of moisture back into my mouth. I wanted to kiss her until nothing else in the world mattered.
“Mr. Conner,” Dr. Montague said. She sounded wary, on edge.
Ah, of course, our little exchange the other day. She must have been remembering that. To be honest I hadn’t been asking after her age because I was worried about her credentials. I had been asking because I had wanted to know how much younger she was than I am, I wanted to know if I was robbing the cradle. I had my limits, after all. I was too old to be dating someone younger that twenty-five, no matter how attractive. There was simply too big of a difference in maturity at that point and I felt uncomfortable.
But despite her younger age, I didn’t think that Dr. Montague was so young as that. There was something in the way that she held herself, as well, a bearing that belonged on an older person. I had a feeling that Dr. Montague hadn’t had a typical life, wasn’t really ‘young’ in the way that most people were. That she was used to acting much older than she was and dealing with people who were beyond her usual level of maturity.
It made me curious. I wanted to know what her story was, I wanted to know more about her. How did a younger person like her become a doctor so quickly? Why was she so serious? Why did she carry herself in that way, with that heavy, proper bearing?
“I hope that you don’t mind I’ve asked Dr. Montague to sit in,” Dr. Franklin said. Dr. Montague wasn’t looking at me directly, just glancing at me, like she was frustrated with me and didn’t want to deal with me directly. It was intriguing. Had I really made that bad of an impression? I hadn’t ever been anything but charming to women before and the idea of a challenge sent a renewed thrill through me.
Down, boy, I reminded myself. I was here to focus on Tabitha and business, not to be distracted by Dr. Montague, as gorgeous and intriguing as she might be.
If she wanted me—and everyone else—not to judge her on her age, then all right, let’s see. Here was her chance to impress me in the medical field.
“Dr. Montague will be handling Tabitha’s day-to-day care,” Dr. Franklin went on. He gave Dr. Montague a warm smile. “Claire is very talented, hardworking, and frankly Tabitha couldn’t wish for a better doctor. I trained her myself, she’s been working under me since her residency, and I’ve had nothing but competence and skill from her.”
Something in the way Dr. Franklin spoke about Claire, his smile as he looked at her, made me narrow my eyes. Suspicion formed in my gut. I knew that smile. I had given that kind of smile to many a woman in my time. Countless women. I’d seen it in my face in pictures whenever the tabloids got a shot of me out on the town with my latest fling.
This man was attracted to his protégé. It put me on edge at once, made me feel… oddly protective over Claire. I knew that I had no right to be. I wasn’t in Claire’s life in any way and even if I had been she had every right to defend herself, it wasn’t my business.
But he was her boss, her mentor, and I didn’t see Claire looking at him the way that he was looking at her. I felt envious, jealous, feeling the way that he felt, knowing that he was seeing what I was seeing and wanting her the way that I wanted her—but with the benefit of knowing her and being close to her. I also felt like I wanted to get up in his face, to tell him to stop looking at her like that, that he had no right, that he was her boss, that it was inappropriate.
Of course, pot meet kettle, I was the guardian of her patient.
I knew that none of this was logical. I had just met this woman for crying out loud. I hadn’t been jealous over someone in… well, ever. When one of my former flings would meet someone and have a relationship, I was happy for them. If a woman I’d slept with before said not tonight, Alex, I’m going with this other guy, I said great no problem, have fun!
But right now, I was feeling… upset. Protective. Twisted up into knots.
I forced myself to take some deep breaths and to focus back in on treatment options. “By all means,” I said.
I could get through this. I was a grown ass adult, not a middle schooler with a ridiculous crush. I could keep this under control.
Or so I hoped.
4
Claire
I started discussing treatment options for Tabitha. Mr. Conner, to my surprise, didn’t raise any objections to my being there or to me being the one to outline things. He listened attentively and seemed to be fully concentrated on figuring out what would be best for his little girl.
That was… something. That was better than I’d expected from him. Perhaps I had been wrong in my previous assumption, just like Pippa had said.
As I spoke, though, I started to notice a… a look on Mr. Conner’s face. It was… stony. Yes, stony, not quite angry but like he was unimpressed, or frustrated, and like he was trying to hide those emotions. What could it possibly be about? What, did he not like that I was a woman? Did he not trust me? I had run into that before, on top of my young age. People wouldn’t respect me because of my gender, they’d demand that they get a ‘real’ doctor and by ‘real’ they meant a man.
Well, I wasn’t going to interrupt my own spiel in order to lecture him. Philip—Dr. Franklin—would never forgive me for it. As te
mpting as it was, it would be hugely unprofessional. Instead I kept talking, explaining everything—and then I noticed that Mr. Conner wasn’t actually looking at me with that expression.
He was looking at Philip.
Philip had been my mentor for years. He was someone who truly believed in me, who never gave me a hard time about my age or gender, and I had a lot of respect for him. I wouldn’t have ended up where I was today without him.
And Philip was being perfectly polite, filling in the blanks, answering questions, adding his own expertise to the conversation. What could he possibly be doing that would make Mr. Conner so frustrate and upset?
Well, at least it answered one question—if he was upset with Philip and not with me then it wasn’t anything sexist. Hmm.
I finished up outlining my treatment plan, my mind in a whirl over Mr. Conner in a way that it had never been about anyone before. I hated myself for caring so much. What did it matter that he did or didn’t like me, or Philip, or anyone? Just so long as he agreed with my treatment plan and we could move forward with helping Tabitha be healthy and happy, that was all that mattered, right?
“I think this plan sounds like the best course of action,” Philip said. “What do you think, Mr. Conner?”
For a moment, I wasn’t sure how Mr. Conner would respond. If he would like it and agree or if he would turn away. I found myself oddly hoping for a smile or a nod of assent. That stony expression on his face didn’t suit him, at least, not like this. He seemed to be a businessman—I’d heard rumors about a big company and a lot of money—but he seemed like the kind of person who was made to be cheerful, not down in the mouth.
Just when I thought I was going to scream from the frustration of not knowing what he was thinking, Mr. Conner nodded. “Yes, it sounds good. Seems to me like Dr. Montague has things well in hand.”
