End Game

by Emily Goodwin

  “Are you okay?” I rush out.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Someone with a Chicago area code called and my first thought was that something bad happened to you.”

  “That’s kind of sweet. I’m fine, I promise. I just got up and am straightening up my apartment before we leave. I’m so excited!”

  “Me too. This will be the longest time we’ve spent together.”

  “I hope you still like me at the end of the week,” she jokes.

  “It would take a lot for me to stop liking you, babe. And even more for me to stop loving you.”

  “Okay, you just earned major points with that one.”

  “I’ll be sure to cash those in at some point this week.”

  “I’ll be disappointed if you don’t. I’m assuming you’re at work, right? You said you had a missed call.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been here all night.”

  “Oh,” she says, sounding a little disappointed. “Are you too tired to drive?”

  “Nah, I’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she says back right away. “Take a nap. I’d rather miss our flights than have you fall asleep behind the wheel. If you died, Archer, it would kill me.”

  “Stop thinking about it,” I tell her, knowing she’ll start crying. This new emotional side annoys her, but I find it charming. “I have time for a short nap, and I’ll grab some espresso on the way.”

  “Naps make me feel more tired sometimes.”

  “The trick is not letting yourself get to REM sleep. You have to wake up before then.”

  “Right. I think I’ve heard that before. Go home and rest. Call me when you leave, please?”

  “I will. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I tuck my shirt into my pants, put on my belt and grab my lab coat, needing to do rounds on my patients before I can leave. I have at least twenty minutes of paperwork too, which is my least favorite about being a doctor.

  A sense of relief comes over me when I step out of the hospital. I haven’t been away for more than two days at a time in too fucking long. I speed home, take a quick shower, and crash in bed. The pressure to sleep keeps me from falling asleep, and when my alarm goes off to get up, I’m finally feeling tired. I set it again for another fifteen minutes and close my eyes.

  Those fifteen minutes go by fast. Yawning my way out the door, I get back in my Jeep and head out. I get coffee on the road and talk to Quinn for the first hour. I make a pit stop for more coffee at the halfway point and walk around a bit to try and keep myself alert and awake. It’s cloudy, and the farther north I go, the more it looks like a bad storm is about to rain down on us.

  Quinn calls again about forty-five minutes later to make sure I hadn’t fallen asleep at the wheel and says it’s raining in the city with a storm forecasted to come in right around the time we’re supposed to take off.

  Traffic slows thanks to the rain, and I get to Quinn’s with only minutes to spare before we have to leave for the airport. But when she answers her door in just a silk robe, I assume our plane has been delayed.

  I don’t waste time asking questions. I roll my suitcase to the side, close the door, and pick her up and kiss her.

  “Good morning, Dr. Jones,” she says, throwing her arms around me. “How was the drive?”

  “You were on the phone with me most of the time,” I say with a smile, kissing her again. I shift my gaze down, first noticing her bare breasts and hard nipples. “Emma has grown.”

  Quinn nods. “I feel it. And she’s been kicking up a storm. It still feels squirmy and not kicky.”

  “Kicky?”

  “It’s a word. I think. I told her you were coming.”

  “That’s not an appropriate thing to tell a baby.” I raise my eyebrows and Quinn laughs. “How much time do we have?”

  “Two hours. But the flight will probably get pushed back even more.” She wrinkles her nose. “Though I’d much rather have the flight delayed ahead of time than to get there and sit on the runway for hours.”

  “Me too.” I slide my hands down Quinn’s ass. “How do you want to spend our time?”

  Her full lips curve into a smile. “Remember the first time you kissed me?”

  “I will always remember that.”

  “And what came after?”

  “I believe you did. At least two times.”

  She nuzzles her lips against my neck. “I want to do that again.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

  “Archer,” Quinn whispers, breath warm on my skin. I passed out after we had sex and have no idea what time it is. The sky is still dark and cloudy, and rain hits the tall windows in her bedroom. If the promise of paradise wasn’t on the horizon, I’d be tempted to stay here all day.

  This is as close to perfect as anything.

  “Is it time to get up?”

  “Yeah. The storm passed, and I think the rain will let up enough for us to take off.”

  “One more minute?”

  “Sure.” She presses her lips to my neck and lays back down, running her nails up and down my arm. It takes more than one minute to pull myself out of bed. We get dressed and I help Quinn remake her bed. She says bye to her cats and feeds them a can of food before we do a quick double-check that we have everything and head out.

  Quinn is beaming as we get into the elevator.

  “Excited?” I ask, taking her carry-on bag from her. It’s surprisingly heavy.

  “What gave that away? Are you?”

  “Yes. And right now, I’m excited to sleep on the plane.”

  “That’s so sad, Arch,” she says with a laugh. “I can’t sleep on planes. I’m totally jealous that you’ll pass out.”

  “I’ve learned to sleep anywhere simply for survival. After you work so many thirty-hour shifts, you sleep when you can wherever you can.”

  She pats her stomach. “My little energy sucker might help me fall asleep this time around though. It’s been a while since I was on a plane for more than four hours.”

  The elevator stops two floors down, and an older couple gets in.

  “Hello, Ms. Dawson,” the man says.

  “Hi, Mr. Keller. And Mrs. Keller. How are you?”

  “We’re good, thank you. Getting ready to brave the rain,” the wife says, bringing her hand up to her hair. “Are you going on vacation?”

  “We are,” Quinn replies, tipping her head up at me. “Hawaii.”

  “Oh, you’ll love it!” Mrs. Keller coos. “Our daughter went before her baby was due too. That whole babymoon thing wasn’t around when we had our kids.” She darts her gaze to me. “I didn’t realize you two moved in together.”

  “We haven’t yet,” Quinn admits almost shyly. “This is my boyfriend, Archer. Arch, this is Mr. And Mrs. Keller from two floors down.”

  Mr. Keller shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you. That’s a fine young woman you’ve got there.”

  I put my free hand on the small of Quinn’s back. “She sure is.”

  “Have a fun trip.” The elevator slows as it gets to the main level. “Nice meeting you, Archer,” Mrs. Keller tells me. “Hopefully we’ll run into you again.”

  “I’m sure you will. I’m hoping to get a job in the city.”

  “He’s a doctor,” Quinn tells them. “A surgeon, actually.”

  “Wow, how nice.”

  The doors open, and the Kellers step aside, letting us out first. Quinn already requested an Uber to take up to the airport, and one should be here any minute now.

  “I wasn’t going to bring up the whole doctor thing,” I tease. “But you couldn’t resist, could you?”

  “It’s almost like your sense of identity will fade away and you’ll forget who you are if you don’t constantly remind people of your MD status.”

  I laugh and push my suitcase against the wall as we wait. “Now, don’t panic, but I didn’t pack my lab coat or scrubs.”

  She dramatically gasps, bringing her hand to her
mouth. “Now I might forget who you are.” She slides her suitcase over by mine and looks outside for our ride. She checks the status of our fight, and when I look at my own phone for an update on the weather, I see I have four emails.

  Call me OCD, but I can’t stand when I have unread emails. I don’t understand how some people let their mailboxes fill up and have thousands and thousands of emails just sitting there.

  Read them or delete. It’s not that hard. And yes, I’m aware what a pointless thing it is to obsess over.

  I open my email, expecting all four to be junk. Three are, but the forth isn’t.

  “Dr. Crawford emailed me about the fellowship,” I say, madly scanning the email. I read it so fast I miss information and have to go back and start from the beginning.

  “What did he say?”

  “I got in.”

  “What? Are you serious?” Quinn jumps up with excitement and throws her arms around me. “That’s amazing! I knew you’d get in. We have double to celebrate on vacation now! When does it start? I can’t wait until you’re here with me!”

  I blink, reread a particular part three times, and feel like someone just dunked me under water.

  Icy cold, dark water.

  Because this is both good and bad. This is tearing me in two and I haven’t even made up my mind, yet alone said it out loud.

  I want to live with Quinn and Emma. I want us to be a family, and I really and truly believe we will. I want to marry Quinn and have more babies because I know our kids are going to be fucking awesome kids with the best mother anyone could ask for.

  But I also want this fellowship and know a few years can go by fast but can also feel like hell. And a few years of Emma’s life is full of firsts and difficult times. I don’t want to miss out on that.

  “Arch?” Quinn asks, sliding her hands down my shoulders and stopping at my biceps. She gives them a squeeze and looks at my phone. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy about the fellowship.”

  “I am,” I start. “But it’s in Boston.”

  22

  Quinn

  “Boston?” I echo even though I heard him right the first time. “As in east coast Boston?”

  “Yeah,” he says, not looking away from his phone. I can see the conflicting emotions on his face, and I hope he looks up and says it’s not worth it after all because his family is here in Chicago.

  But he doesn’t.

  “I think our ride is here,” he says instead, and grabs my carry-on bag, hiking it up on his shoulder. I flip my hood on to keep my hair dry and wheel my suitcase out, and the word Boston repeats through my mind over and over. I’ve been to New York but not Boston. It’s not a terribly long flight, but it’s no quick trip either.

  And Emma will be born by then. Traveling alone with a baby has to be difficult. I can’t tell Archer not to go though, right? He’s furthering his education, not taking a year or two off to party.

  “Get in so you don’t get wet,” Archer tells me, acting as if everything is normal. It’s far from it. He has a life-altering decision to make and it’s not bothering him at all. Maybe he’s already made up his mind. He wants this, after all, and getting in is a huge accomplishment. “I’ll get your suitcase.”

  “Thanks,” I say distantly and climb into the back of the car. I pull my hood off and watch Archer quickly load the suitcases into the trunk. He slides in next to me, setting my carry-on in the space between us.

  “Do you know how long the fellowship is?” I ask.

  “Two years.”

  “And you’d start in January?”

  “Yeah.”

  I nod, and I’m sure he knows what I’m thinking. He’ll be hours away working long shifts. What happens if I go into labor? There’s a chance he won’t make it back in time.

  I blink back tears. I should be proud of him. Really fucking proud. This is no easy feat, and he mentioned before how competitive the fellowship is. Only the best of the best get in.

  Archer is the best.

  He’ll make a great trauma surgeon, saving lives and making the world a better place and all. Plus, being temporarily separated by distance isn’t the worse thing. There are lots of military couples who handle long distance. Archer will be in Boston, not the Middle East.

  Yeah…it’s not that bad. We’ll get through this and when it’s over we’ll look back at the hard times and see how it strengthened us. This will be good in the end. Archer will be happy, and most of the time, long-term success and happiness require some give and take.

  But we’d just talked about him looking for jobs in the city and us moving in together. I go from feeling like we’re on the same page to thinking he’s jumping ahead into another book. On a different shelf.

  If Boston is where he wants to go, then fine. I love him, and we’ll make it work.

  “So, what do you have to do about the fellowship?” I ask, picking at a loose string on the fabric seat of the car.

  “Accept or decline.”

  “What do you want to do?” I tear my eyes away from my lap to look at Archer. The excitement has washed away, and he’s back to looking strained and stressed.

  “Let’s not worry about it now. No talking about work, remember?” He smiles, but his lack of response makes me think he wants to take it.

  Which is fine. And I know it’s fine because I keep having to tell myself it’s fucking fine.

  “Okay.” I reach over and take his hand. Feeling his skin on mine relaxes me, but I know there’s no way I can let this go and not think about it until he comes to a decision. This is big and life-changing. For all three of us.

  I wish I could drink. If I could suck down a margarita right now, I so would. And then I’d probably be able to relax and not constantly wonder what Archer’s going to do about this fellowship.

  We just woke up on our first official full day in Hawaii, and it couldn’t be more beautiful. I’m standing on the balcony of our hotel room looking out at the ocean trying to find my fucking zen.

  The fact that I’m not jumping for joy for Archer makes me feel so guilty it’s like the morning sickness has come back full force. I am proud of him. I do want him to take the fellowship position.

  But I want that position to be in Chicago. Maybe it was naive of me to assume he’d get in at Northwestern since we ran into Dr. Crawford and his wife. That’s where he works, after all, and he and Archer have emailed a few times and I even brought it up to Mrs. Crawford when we met for lunch to talk about MIT and internships.

  I don’t think it’s terrible that I’m upset to think about Archer moving far away though. Anyone who’s in love would have hesitations about their better half moving states away.

  Archer steps out behind me, and his hands settle on my waist. “That’s one hell of a view,” he says, lips brushing against my neck as he talks.

  “It is. You might have a hard time getting me to leave.”

  “We can become permanent vacationers and forget all responsibilities.” He slides his hands around to my middle. “For a few months at least.”

  I close my eyes and lean back against him, inhaling deep. The sun is already warm but the breeze coming in from the ocean makes the weather perfectly enjoyable.

  “Nah, we can stay here and just change Emma’s name to Moana. She’ll like the island life.”

  “Maybe she’ll grow up to be a pro surfer or something. She’ll need to do something that’ll make a lot of money to support her deadbeat beach bum parents.”

  I laugh, spinning in his arms. He grips me tighter and plants a kiss on my lips, making my heart do a skip-a-beat thing.

  “We can start her young. Some of those athletes go pro before they can drive.”

  “That’s my plan,” he says, and I laugh. Leaning down to kiss me again, he brushes my hair out of my face. It’s hanging down my back in loose waves, and I’m debating twisting it up into a bun. The constant ocean breeze is amazing but makes for messy hair.

  “You are so beautiful,” Arch
er whispers. “I love you so fucking much.”

  “I love you, too.” I hook my arms around his neck, heart lurching and wishing I could put Boston out of my mind. But I can’t because not knowing if he’s going to be miles and miles away is killing me.

  I don’t want him to go, and though I’m not going to tell him that and let that sway his decision one way or another, I feel guilty over it, like I’m a bad girlfriend.

  I can support him and not be happy about it, right? It’s not permanent, by any means, and just because we’ll be living apart—still—doesn’t mean things will fall apart between us. We’ll keep doing what we’re doing now, and by the time the fellowship is over, we’ll have so many frequent flyer miles we can come back here and not have to pay for airfare.

  There. Much better. I just need to keep a positive outlook and—who am I fucking kidding? It’s going to suck. I’m going to hate being away from Archer, and he’ll hate being away from us. He’ll support me every way he can, but I’ll still be alone at night with a newborn.

  Unless I quit my job and go to Boston with him, because I could. I don’t have to work, and can move out with him. We can rent a cute little house close to a park, and Emma and I can go visit him at the hospital for lunch. Moving far away from my family will hurt, but not being with Archer will hurt more.

  “Are you okay, babe?” Archer asks. “Did your morning sickness come back or something?”

  “No.” I look into his brown eyes and smile. “I’m still jetlagged I think. And hungry.”

  “Let’s go get breakfast before you feel sick.”

  “I think I’m okay,” I tell him, a little afraid of jinxing myself. Right around the end of my seventeenth week, the morning sickness went away. Waking up with an empty stomach makes me feel a little nauseous, but it’s nothing like it was before.

  We step back into the room and Archer closes the balcony door. I run my fingers through my hair and fix the tie on my beach coverup.

  “Should I put on a regular dress?” I ask Archer.