I stayed on the West Coast for medical school, and she got her master’s back east. By then, I had my heart set on becoming a surgeon. My priorities had switched from girls to becoming the most advanced valve replacement surgeon in the field. I was obsessed, and it paid off.
I didn’t party at all, so I lived vicariously through Meadow and listened to her stories every Sunday. I don’t remember when that started, but for years, that was our day. We spoke about everything from books to what was on television to politics to friends and family. We learned more about each other over the phone than we had in all the years we’d known one another. I took her to a Justin Timberlake concert one year for her birthday, and she came out to San Francisco twice on her own and twice to see her boyfriend play hockey.
By twenty-five, I was taking part in research my peers would have killed to be part of. I spent my days in labs and my nights in research books. I had the lead and was doing everything to stay focused and seize my dream.
That was when Meadow got married.
She eloped.
It devastated her mother. It disappointed her dad because he hadn’t gotten to walk her down the aisle. They threw her a wedding party afterward to appease their need to give their daughter the wedding of their dreams.
My heart was broken for the second time in my life.
No, that’s a lie. It was the first and only time because what I’d thought was a broken heart at fifteen was just a pissed-off attitude. This was different. I didn’t actually feel it in my chest. It felt like my bones had lost their density. My gut was hollow, and I had this terrible headache that lasted for weeks.
I’d thought I had my life figured out. No, I did have my life figured out. I’d just forgotten to figure Meadow into it.
I was an idiot. It took Meadow getting married for me to realize for certain that I was in love with her. I was hoping it was jealousy, and it would pass. It didn’t.
“Don’t do anything foolish,” my father said when he picked me up at the airport.
“Why would you say something like that?”
“She made her vow to another man. If there’s one thing Gallagher men hold sacred, it’s marriage. Let her go. Let her be happy.”
On the day of her wedding party, I gave her a gift. A wishbone necklace. I’m always surprised when I see her wearing it. It’s like she knows why I picked it out.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, thankfully not questioning the fact that I’d bought something so personal.
“When I was in school, we had to break open the chest cavity of a bird. The wishbone protects the heart. It reminded me of you. Wishes and luck and … well, I saw it at the jeweler, and he said a wishbone meant hope for the future. I hope you like it.”
“I love it.” She threw her arms around me, and I didn’t hesitate to hold her a little longer than I should have.
My Meadow.
She belonged to someone else.
I flew back to San Francisco and devoted my life to my career for the next seven years until the day she called in tears.
She’d left Brock. I took the first flight home.
I held her when she cried.
I fed her when she said she couldn’t eat.
I made her laugh when I thought her smile had faded forever.
And I made my decision. It was time to come home. I spent the next six months applying for positions in Manhattan, and the stars aligned for me, placing me in the hospital next to my father’s office. Her office. I didn’t have to see patients at Park Avenue Cardiology. The fact that my two favorite people were there made it an easy decision.
It was okay that Meadow didn’t love me. Watching her heal the wounds given to her by another man was horrible to watch. She might not be mine, but I’ve always taken my father’s advice. She needed a friend, and I’ve tried to be the best she deserved.
When she gets lost in her thoughts, I’m there to help her work through her problems.
When she needs a confidence boost, I tell her how desirable she is.
When she wants to become a mother, I am the first in line to be the father of her child.
Was it selfish on my part to make the offer? Yes. I did it with the best of intentions for her and for myself. To have a child I always wanted but just didn’t think it would happen for me in the next decade? I was all in. To make love to the woman I had wanted for half my life? Damn, it was the best night of my life.
Then, she reminded me we were still friends. That was like a knife to the chest. I told her that night to let me know if I was breaking her heart. I was talking to myself. Once I had her, I knew there would be no accolade, no amount of success in the world that would triumph over being with Meadow.
I was in love with her. Body and soul.
The last few weeks have been the best and worst.
I wanted to have a baby with her. Being a father had me excited for the first time in years. Still, I almost dreaded the day she’d say she was pregnant because I wouldn’t be able to pretend she was mine anymore.
Then, she told me she loved me.
And I told her we couldn’t be friends anymore.
“Well, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” my father says when I come to him with the story.
Meadow just ran out of here, and like the good friend I am, I let her run off.
And, yes, instead of going after her, I walked right into my father’s office at Park Avenue Cardiology to tell him this whole tale.
“She tells you she wants forever, and you tell her you can’t be friends?” He looks exasperated as he sits at his desk and taps his pen. “Am I missing something?”
“Nope.” I pull the ends of my hair and look out the window.
My father leans with an elbow bent on the armrest and massages his chin, looking at me in contemplative thought. “You’re a brilliant man. Got a fifteen forty on your SATs. Top of your class in med school and performing breakthrough heart procedures that only a handful of people in the world have the intelligence to master. You’re also the dumbest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”
I look back at him with profound shock. “What?”
“You heard me. You’re thick in the head for standing here right now when you should be chasing after that girl and begging her to be your wife.”
He’s right. I know he’s right, except he’s greatly wrong.
“She wants it all, Dad. She wants lasagna.”
“What does lasagna have to do with anything?”
“Everything.” I look out the window at the setting sun that leaves a shadow over the street. Leaning back on my heels, I fiddle with the coins in my pocket. “What if I hurt her because I can’t provide the life she deserves? What I did for Gail, it was a miracle. The possibilities that are now open to future patients, the technology that we can use to heal people … it’ll be my life, more so than it already is now. I have papers to write and boards to communicate with. I am one of three people in the world who have done this surgery, and I even found a new pathway to do it. This is what I’ve studied for. My plan, the dream of being director by forty, is on track and even better than before.”
“You’re going to choose a heart over love?”
“It’s not like she gave me much of a choice. She changed our plan, told me she couldn’t have a baby with me.”
“Because she loves you,” he reminds me.
I drop my shoulders. “She doesn’t want the life I planned out.”
He sits there a moment, his back leaning into his chair, making it creak as he thinks. “Did she ask you to give up your work?”
“She’d never,” I answer easily.
“Did she tell you she wanted a traditional life with a husband who was home at five and home on the weekends?”
“No.” I shake my head as I rub a penny between my fingers. “But she has dreams.”
“So do you. And, for someone who was upset with her for making decisions without consulting you first, you sure are making decisions for he
r without asking what she damn well wants.” He rises from his desk, his palms flat on the desk as he leans in and gives me a stern eye, similar to the one I got when I took his car for a joyride at sixteen. It’s the face he gives when he’s no longer my friend. He’s my father. “I know I’ve given you advice in the past that you’ve taken to heart, but it’s time that you stop listening to things I’ve said and listen to me now. Don’t be her friend. Don’t leave her alone, and you’d damn well better not seize your dreams over anything other than love.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
He stands up straight and looks me dead in the eye. “Do you love her?”
It doesn’t take a second for the answer to pour right from my heart and straight to my lips. “More than anything.”
“Well then, what the hell are you waiting for?”
Meadow
The sky has long since gone dark, and I’m still sitting here at the edge of the fountain. Despite the night sky, the fountain and arcade of Bethesda Terrace are still packed. The Boathouse on the other side of the lake is lit up, packed with diners enjoying their evening, while I sit here and commiserate with the pigeons.
A pint of ice cream and a long bath are probably the best solution for my horrible existence, but I can’t seem to move. Sure, it’s a bit melodramatic, but at this point, it’s go home, eat my weight in cookie dough, and finish the bottle of Johnnie or sit here for a while longer where at least there’s life surrounding me.
I cried for a while. I cursed a few times and scared off a nice family. There might have been an instance where I gave a lovely-looking couple the finger.
Good news is, I’m not as angry as I was before. My tears have stopped, and I pretty much just feel hopeless.
I’m facing the lake tonight, taking in the way the moonlight hits the water. Its beam of light shines on the glass-like black surface, looking like a beam of hope in the dark abyss.
I should remember this moment when I’m writing my manual.
To my right, a man is doing tricks with his dog, and the poodle is jumping up into the air, doing flips, and even walking on its hind legs. The man hands the dog a treat and gives the pooch a scratch on the tummy. I wish someone loved me as much as that man loved his dog.
I kick a pebble on the ground. “That’s silly, Meadow. You’re loved. Stop being such a sorry sack of—”
“Do you always talk to yourself?”
I look up to see Christian standing with his hands in his pockets, looking down at me with a raised brow and a lopsided smile.
I hate his handsome face and hilarious personality. I hate his suits and leather shoes. I hate the woodsy cologne he wears that seems to stay on all day when everyone else loses their scent after an hour. Mostly, I hate that my heart is racing at the fact that he’s here.
“Rarely. Mostly when I’m feeling sorry for myself, so now seemed like a good time.” I look up at him with a forced grin and then let it go quickly, looking away. The running water of the fountain is enough to drown out the thoughts running through my head, which are telling me that Christian being here might not be a good thing. “What are you doing here?”
“My father told me I was a fool not to run after you.”
“You are a fool,” I say. It’s rather juvenile, but it’s the truth. Then again, if he’s the fool, I’m a joker because I’ve been playing tricks on myself. “Between your dad and my mom, we have the most meddlesome parents in the tri-state area.”
He laughs. It’s that deep baritone that sends chills right up to my head.
“Maybe it’s our fault for taking their advice,” he says.
With his back to the lake, he’s standing in the moonlight, a glow surrounding him, highlighting his perfect, straight nose and strong jaw.
Maybe this would be easier if he wasn’t so handsome.
No, I’d love him if he were half as tall, had a crooked nose, and an eye in the middle of his forehead.
“Why did you run off like that?”
I look away. “You said we couldn’t be friends.”
“No. That we can’t,” he says.
I look up him with a dropped jaw as I feel my heart plummet.
I feel like crying.
Scratch that.
I am crying.
Goddamn it.
“Who says that anyway? We can’t be friends. We’re not in high school. You can’t just eradicate twenty-some-odd years of friendship like that.” I snap my fingers to make the point.
At the sight of my tears, he treads toward me in two steps and holds out a hand. “Dance with me,” he says.
I look up at him with my hand on my cheek, rubbing away a tear.
“Don’t appease me.” I rub the other cheek.
He doesn’t take no for an answer. “Dance with me, Meadow.”
I look up into his eyes. The flecks of gold are illuminated by the amber streetlights of the park. I might hate him, but I’m a glutton for this man, so I take his hand and let him pull me up to a standing position.
His hand snakes around my waist as his other grabs my hand and holds it close to his chest. I pick at the collar of his shirt as he sways his hips and dances to no music, just the sound of rushing water as the beat.
Placing my hand on his shoulder, I step further into him, feeling the protective feeling of his hand on the small of my back, and let out a sigh.
He smells so good. Not just his cologne or the fine Italian suit. It’s the sinful scent of testosterone-laden man. The natural scent of him when he’s naked in bed.
I open my mouth to speak, but I have no words. I don’t know what else to say. His beating heart is pressed against our joined knuckles, like a drum to the melody of the night. The slight breeze is the poetic melody of a flute and the water weaving the heavenly notes of a piano.
I move my hand to his neck and rest my head against his beating heart. He pulls me impossibly close. We’re two people resembling one.
“How did you know I was here?”
His chin rests against my head. “I went to your apartment first, but Sal said you hadn’t come home yet, so I walked into the park.”
I let out a groan. “There was a day when I had an unpredictable social calendar.”
The light rumble in his chest radiates through mine. “Trust me, you’re still unpredictable.”
It’s dark. It’s late. My entire day has been a roller coaster of emotions. I step back from his embrace, but his hand that’s gripping mine pulls me back. The breeze brushes against my cheek, forcing a tendril of hair to blow in front of my face.
With a genuine smile and eyes that glaze over, glittering with emotion, he pushes the tendril behind my ear. He puts a hand in his pocket and takes out a shiny copper penny.
“Make a wish,” he says.
“I don’t believe in wishes anymore.”
My words seem to cause him distress because his brows are turned down, and his lips are parted.
“Do you know what I wish for?” he asks.
“You can’t tell me or else it won’t come true.”
“Or maybe it will.” With a fierce determination, Christian drops down on one knee and holds the penny up between us. “Meadow Duvane—”
“What are you doing?” I ask rather abruptly.
He laughs, seemingly at himself. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
My palms are held up high as I try to assess the situation. “It looks like you’re proposing. Anyone who looks over here at me standing and you down on one knee would assume you’re proposing. But you’re holding a penny. Oh God, are you not proposing? Because, right now, you are winning some kind of award for making me feel crazy.”
“Are you done being crazy?” he asks calmly.
“I think so,” I huff.
“Because I’d like to propose.” Christian looks up with a steadfast twinkle in his eye. “Meadow Duvane—”
“No.”
“No?”
I stomp my foot. “No, Christian. Yo
u can’t.” I run my hand over the back of my neck as I try to process what the hell is going through his head right now. “You can’t just come here and propose marriage with a penny.”
“Why not?” He looks up at me, confused. “Is it because I don’t have a ring? I do, if you’re wondering. It’s my grandmother’s. Three carats on a gold band. You can change the setting if you want.”
He’s incorrigible, completely beguiling, and I want to slap the smug smile off his face. Yes, he’s smiling. The bastard thinks this is funny.
“An hour ago, you said we couldn’t be friends, and now, you’re here. Doing this!” I let out an exasperated breath.
As muddled as I seem to be at the situation, he is taking it all in stride.
“For the record, I didn’t say we couldn’t be friends. I said that was the end of our friendship. And you’re the one who told me not to tell you I loved you.”
I nod slowly. “That sounds about right.”
“Believe me when I say, I didn’t plan on proposing like this. In my mind, it was with a romantic dinner and dancing. I’d have a ring in a box, but as you well know, life doesn’t go as planned.”
“Then, why are you doing this?”
“Because you don’t let me talk. I’m down here, on a knee, and I’m not getting up until you let me finish.” His tone is loud, and my heart jumps wildly in my chest.
I stand here, stone silent. He raises his brows and tilts his chin in temptation to make me speak. I don’t say a word. He takes that as his sign to continue.
“What you didn’t let me say earlier is that I am wildly, crazily, passionately in love with you. I don’t just love you. I live for you. I’m not saying it because you said it first. I’m telling you, I fell in love with you on a walk home from your school play. I fell harder during car rides and late-night talks. I found my soul mate over two decades of friendship. You’re the only woman I have ever and will ever love. I lost you once, and I will never lose you again. That’s why I’m not asking; I’m telling you. Marry me. Be my wife, the mother of my children, my soul mate, my whole heart, my last wish. Marry me, Meadow.” His tender gaze is accompanied with a hard swallow as he adds, “Will you marry me?”
A Really Bad Idea Page 28
