“I’m not sure how to respond. I’ve waited a long time to hear you say that.”
“I’m sorry. And I should say, we’re not going to always get it right. We’ll stumble and make mistakes. But the intent is there. To do better. Now,” she said, blinking rapidly—was she crying?—“I want to hear all about you and Nicole.”
Thrown from the emotional frying pan into the fire. The boa constrictor coiled more of its body around Ben’s heart and slowly squeezed.
Fallon cupped his shoulder. “What happened?”
“It’s over. I told her I loved her and she doesn’t feel the same way.”
She waved a hand. “I don’t believe that for a second. She stood up to me for you, despite what it could cost her. You don’t do that for someone you don’t love.”
“She thinks I’ll want her to give up her career.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She frowned. “Why would she think that?”
Ben winced. “Because the entire time we’ve known each other, I may have said that I would . . . uh . . . never get involved with a doctor.”
Dark sculpted brows reached for the heavens. “Benjamin! We can unpack that another time. And there will be another time.”
Was that a promise or a threat?
“Does she know what you offered to do on her behalf?”
He nodded.
“Then she can’t truly believe you would stand in her way.”
“Maybe not. But it’s what she’s telling herself. And she won’t compromise.”
“Nicole is very smart. She’ll figure this out. What you have to decide is if you can give her time to do that. Is she worth the wait?”
His best friend and the most beautiful woman, inside and out, he’d ever known?
“Absolutely.”
His mother patted his knee. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You always have. I’m ashamed to say I used to think of it as a weakness. Now I can’t express enough how grateful I am for it.”
By the time he’d returned to Palmer’s later that night, his head was spinning from all he’d experienced. When he’d awakened this morning, if anyone had told him that he’d tell Nic he loved her, they’d break up, and he’d come to better understand his mother, he’d have suggested they contact a competent mental health professional. Before he’d left Fallon, she’d held out her arms for a hug and after an awkward moment, he’d gone into them. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d embraced, though the smell of her Chanel No. 5 was familiar and unexpectedly comforting.
Entering the house, he stopped short at the sight of Davis sitting alone at the kitchen bar, a drink in his hand, pendant lights illuminating his stooped posture.
“Where is everyone?”
“Palmer and Bron went for a walk on the beach and I haven’t seen Tinsley since she stormed out of here after your fight last night.” Davis raised his glass then took a sip. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
Ben could tell Davis was itching for a fight, but he’d have to look elsewhere. Ben was dealing with his own shit. He wasn’t in the mood.
He headed to the stairs. “Whatever, dude.”
“I gotta hand it to you, champ, you are killing it with the ladies.”
He spun around to face Davis. “What’s your problem?”
Davis shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine. Just offering a little commentary.”
“You’ve been doing that a lot these last few days.” He walked over and took the tumbler from Davis. “Spurred on by this. You’ve been meaner than usual and no fun to be around.”
Davis stood, his brow lowered, his jaw tight. “Who are you, my father? I can take care of myself.”
“And this is how you do it? By being a drunk asshole on the last weekend we’ll see our friends for three years?”
Adrenaline coursed through Ben’s body and ratcheted up his breathing. He rarely rose to Davis’s bait, but if Davis was stupid, or drunk, enough to start something, Ben would make sure to finish it.
They stared at each other for several long, tense moments before Davis averted his gaze. “Fuck. Sorry, man.”
Davis hadn’t started out being this obnoxious. Ben thought back to when he’d noticed the shift in his friend’s behavior. “Is this about Sabine? You’ve been irritable since you found out she wasn’t coming.”
“She was going to come until we got into a fight.”
Ben frowned. “I thought you said it was work.”
Davis swiped at the air. “She accused me of being selfish. Said I always want everything on my terms.”
“Do you?”
“Wouldn’t you? It certainly makes things easier.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “If you’re interested in something more, something serious, you need to talk to her. Honestly. Without the charm and bullshit. Can you do that?”
Davis flicked his gaze upward and exhaled. “Yeah.”
“And you can start by putting that glass down. I’m pretty sure she’s not hanging out at the bottom of that bottle.”
“You’re right. Thanks, man. And I’m sorry. I haven’t been very helpful to you this weekend.”
“No, you haven’t,” he laughed. “But it’s okay.”
Nic hadn’t left because of anything Davis had done.
Davis held out his hand and Ben clasped it, allowing the other man to pull him in for a hug. His second one in an hour. Did he have one of those middle school handwritten signs on his back, exhorting everyone he came in contact with to embrace him?
“Do you guys need more time? We could come back.” Bronwen’s cool, amused voice broke the silence.
“You good?” Ben asked Davis quietly. When Davis nodded, he stepped back and slapped his friend’s shoulder before looking at Bronwen. “We’re good.”
Bronwen and Palmer stood with their arms around one another, looking calm, serene, and happily in love. He wanted that with Nic, but it might never be possible.
“I’m so sorry. I know this isn’t what you guys pictured when you suggested this getaway.”
“We got to spend time with you, which is what we wanted. If anything, I should apologize to you. About Tinsley. That was totally my bad.” Bron reached out and squeezed his arm. “I know we just met Nic but I really like her. I hope you can work it out.”
“I do, too,” he said, kissing her cheek.
“As for you,” Palmer said, pointing at Davis, who had the sense to look embarrassed, “I hope you’ve figured your shit out. Because if we get back in three years and you’re still doing this same—”
“I know, I know,” Davis said, rubbing the nape of his neck. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too.”
Ben looked at his friends. They’d sustained him and had been more like his family than his blood relations. He was really lucky to have them in his life. “Now, how about one last dinner before you two rush off to save the world?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Nic closed the flap on the box she was packing and sealed it with tape. Tossing the dispenser on the bed, she sighed, shoved a hand through her curls, and gauged the progress she’d made over the past five days. Partially filled boxes were scattered around the living room; stacks of books were piled on her pub table and kitchen counter; and clothes, still on hangers, were haphazardly thrown over the backs of chairs and the arms of her couch. It was not like she was cursed with an abundance of belongings; her entire life could fit into one of those small moving containers you hitched to the back of your car. Still, she couldn’t conjure enough motivation to pack with her usual speed and efficiency and move out after being there for three years.
She sat abruptly on the nearest cleared surface—the edge of the coffee table. That explained it. She’d lived in that apartment for a long time. Anyone would be in their feelings about leaving a place they’d called home for the past three years.
You had no problems leaving Covington with your deuces up and no looks back. And you’d lived there eighteen
years. You were in Charlottesville for eight . . .
Yeah, well . . .
It wasn’t because she was also leaving the man who’d lived upstairs that entire time. This wasn’t about Ben. In fact, in the time since she’d returned from Martha’s Vineyard she’d been incredibly busy. Too busy to think about Ben. To miss him. To see reminders of them together everywhere: in the kitchen, drinking wine while he cooked for her, in the living room as they sat on the couch watching TV, here in her apartment when he’d come to check on her.
Too busy to wonder where he’d been spending his time, considering he hadn’t come home.
She’d gone into the hospital to go through out processing, which required signing paperwork and turning in her hospital badges and parking pass. While she’d been chatting with the unit nurses and saying her good-byes, a staff member had told her Dr. Agner wanted to see her in his office.
What a difference two weeks made. The last time she’d been in here, she’d felt as if her life’s work had been unraveling before her eyes.
Agner blinked and smoothed his fingers along his bow tie. “You’ve done wonderful work here at Hopkins, especially in your final year as chief resident.”
Uh-huh.
But professionalism reigned. She offered him a tight smile. “It’s a great program. I grew a lot here, both academically and surgically.”
“I received a call from James Newman at Duke. They’re looking forward to having you.”
She nodded, while drumming her fingers on her thigh. “I can’t wait to start.”
Agner cleared his throat. “I— If you were wondering, while you were away, Dr. Whitaker had a . . . difficult time with a . . . couple of patients. He’s taking some time off to evaluate his future.”
Nic waited for the outpouring of triumph to swell over her.
“We’re expecting great things from you. You’re an exceptional surgeon, Dr. Allen.”
He stood and held out his hand. The triumph hadn’t come, but oh, the rage . . .
If I was so great why didn’t you stand behind me?
Why was the fellowship, which I’d earned, in jeopardy over someone whose work was clearly subpar to my own?
Why did I need to bolster my case with outside support?
Why wasn’t my word, my recommendation, enough?
In the end, she’d stood and accepted his handshake. “Thank you, Dr. Agner.”
The encounter still left a bad taste in her mouth, but it didn’t mar her feeling of accomplishment. Tomorrow she’d graduate from her residency and at the separate dinner and awards ceremony for the orthopedic surgery specialty she’d accept the award for Chief Resident of the Year.
Feeling restless, she let go of the shirt she’d been folding and headed upstairs. The day was sunny and the kitchen was bright, but it could’ve been cloudy and rainy. The space felt sad and dreary, a testament to Ben’s absence. She hadn’t seen him since their argument. True to his word, he’d made sure she had a plane ticket back home and had arranged for transportation to and from the airport.
Still taking care of her. Even in the end.
“Damn you, Ben! Why did you have to go and ruin everything?”
She banged her fist on the counter—cursing when she realized what she’d done—and dropped her head on her folded arms. This was supposed to be one of the happiest times of her life. She’d finished her residency and was getting ready to begin her fellowship! She was on schedule to achieve goals she’d set for herself years ago. Instead, she couldn’t think of anything except Ben and his soulful eyes and tousled hair and body made for sin.
“So, you can make compromises when it comes to fucking me, but if I want more, you can’t be bothered?”
God it hurt! She missed his presence, his warmth, his laughter. Him. She felt it keenly, nearly every time she breathed. Forget a hangover cure, she wished there was some sort of pill or medication she could take to ease the suffering of her heart. But there was nothing but to endure it.
The chiming doorbell startled her out of her funk and sent her heart free-falling into the pit of her stomach.
Ben?
As fast as her hopes soared, they deflated. Ben wouldn’t ring the bell. He’d use his key.
She descended the steps to the foyer and opened the door.
“Mom!”
How did the universe know what she needed?
Dee Allen pulled Nic into a warm hug. Nic had inherited her petite stature from her mother. Within her embrace, she could rest her cheek against her mom’s, close her eyes, and inhale the familiar scent of cocoa butter. When she started to feel a little better, she lifted her lashes and stared at the other visitor, whose eyes were hidden behind stylish sunglasses.
“Caila! What are you two doing here?”
“Aren’t you graduating tomorrow?” Caila asked.
Jeez, she was right. That’s why her mother was here. It had nothing to do with the universe. Nic rolled her eyes at her moment of whimsy.
Another reason to be annoyed with Ben.
Smirking, Nic retorted, “I’m honored you managed to tear yourself away from Mayor McHottie.”
“You should be.” Caila winked, before stepping forth and giving Nic a hug and brief kiss on the cheek. She leaned back and eyed the writing on Nic’s purple T-shirt. “‘I Use No Chemicals. Only Juices and Berries’. Ha! Coming to America. I love it.”
Nic smiled. “Come in.”
She closed the door and gestured for them to follow her up into the kitchen, knowing there was a better chance of finding refreshments there than in her apartment.
“How did the two of you connect up?”
“We’ve been planning this for a while,” Caila said, setting her Chanel purse on the counter. “We all wanted to be here to celebrate this with you.”
Nic turned wide eyes on her mom. “You knew the girls were coming when I talked to you a couple of weeks ago?”
“I did,” Dee said, good-naturedly.
“Ava will be here tomorrow. She’s flying in from a judicial conference. And Lacey’s going to try, but rehearsals for the tour started immediately and she’s not sure if she can get away. She’s planning to call, though.”
Nic was touched at the effort her friends were making on her behalf. They were all extremely busy people, so she appreciated them taking time out of their hectic schedules for her.
“I’m glad you’re both here. It means the world to me.”
Dee settled onto a bar stool at the counter and gazed around, her brows raised. “I always thought this was a lovely place. Is Ben still at work?”
“Probably,” Nic said, avoiding the question. “Can I get you guys anything? Are you thirsty?”
Caila waved her off. “I’m good.”
“Are you sure? Mom, I know what you want, but we also have water, soda, or wine.” Nic filled the kettle with water and set about preparing tea for Dee. “Or would you prefer something to eat? If we don’t have anything here, we can go out or I can order in with DoorDash?”
When there was no reply, she glanced up to see both women staring at her.
“What’s wrong?” Dee asked, furrows appearing in the still-smooth light brown skin of her forehead.
Nic shook her head, as if to Etch A Sketch her expression. “Nothing.”
“Nicole Shavonne Allen, I knew who you were before you were birthed from my body. Do you think I can’t tell when something is wrong with you?”
She tried to keep it in and if it was anyone else, she honestly believed she would’ve succeeded. But in the face of her mother’s love, support, and compassion, Nic crumpled.
“Oh my God,” Dee exclaimed when Nic started to cry.
“It must be bad, Ms. Dee,” Caila said, her voice colored with concern. “I can’t remember the last time I saw Nic fall apart like this.”
In the background of her distress, Nic was aware of both women moving. Of her mother taking her hand and guiding her into the living room. Of Caila opening and closing cab
inets and then pouring liquid into a glass.
Dee smoothed one of Nic’s curls behind her ear. “What is it, honey? Are you ill? Has something happened with your fellowship?” She gasped. “Are you not graduating?”
Nic took the tissue from Caila’s outstretched hand and blew her nose. “Of course I’m graduating.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s Ben.”
“Is he ill?” Dee asked.
“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Caila said in a low, knowing tone.
Nic met her friend’s questioning gaze and nodded in confirmation. Caila’s gaze softened and her head tilted to the side. “Oh sweetie. What happened?”
She blew out a shaky, shuddering breath. “We got into a huge fight.”
Just saying the words aloud and remembering Ben’s shattered expression tore at Nic.
“About what? Did he say something wrong? Did he hurt you?” Dee’s narrowed eyes and fierce expression reminded Nic of a mama lion protecting her cub.
She had an amazing mother. Great friends, and a prestigious, rewarding career. She didn’t need anything else.
“I talked to Ava,” Caila said. “Did something happen when you two were on Martha’s Vineyard?”
Nic heard Dee’s confused “What were you doing on Martha’s Vineyard?” but her gaze never left Caila.
She nodded. “He told me he loved me.”
It was Caila’s turn to be shocked. “Oh! I was not expecting that.”
Neither had Nic.
“And that upset you?” Caila pressed.
“Yes!”
Caila frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Ugh! The Caila of a year ago would’ve. Before Mayor McHottie!
“You know how hard I’ve worked to get here. All my life, people have underestimated me, never expecting me to make it. They either told me I wasn’t good enough or never stuck around long enough to find out. But I’ve consistently proved them all wrong. And now, I’m so close and he thinks because he says he loves me . . .” Nic shook her head. “Why would I give up my life, something I can depend on, for meaningless words and something that probably won’t last?”
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