Warren glances up from Keisha’s chart, raising a single eyebrow as Julie messes with the collar of my shirt. I used to love her messing with my hair and my clothes—anything to feel her touch. Where did it go? Why does her touch feel so wrong?
Dorothy Mayhem ruined me. Just completely ruined me.
But her words hold me accountable, like I owe it to her to give Roman the life she thinks he deserves. And he does deserve that life.
“Yeah.” I pin the best damn smile on my face that I can muster. “He would love that.”
“Perfect!” Julie lifts onto her toes and kisses the corner of my mouth.
I stiffen, feeling the full weight of Warren’s scrutinizing gaze.
“Bye, Dr. Warren.” Julie tosses him a grin before sashaying out of the lab.
“Don’t say it.”
“She’s the mother of your kid. A successful doctor. Incredibly beautiful. What could I possibly say? Other than … it’s obvious why you’re no longer with Dorothy.”
I take three painful steps toward him, grab his lab coat, and shove him into the wall. His eyes bulge from his head.
“Dorothy Mayhem is the fucking universe. She’s what every other human could only hope to be. She’s better than me, better than you, and better than Dr. Hathaway—added all together and multiplied times infinity. And even then … we don’t come close to Dorothy Mayhem. So if I ever hear you say her name again, it better be in complete respect and reverence. Do I make myself clear?”
Warren blinks slowly before nodding. I release him, go tell Keisha Eldridge’s parents that their daughter has a deadly cancer that’s very rare in children. Then I lay out her treatment options and give them very promising survival statistics while praying with them to a god that may or may not exist.
Dorothy was right … my problems are small even if in my heart they feel incredibly large and unbearable.
The next two weeks turn into a blur as I acclimate back into working full days. I still go to physical therapy. But I’m back to walking normally. Warren and I make silent amends, focusing more on work and less on personal life.
Julie and her things continue to infiltrate my house, like she’s moving in without actually announcing it or renting a big van to do it all at once. And I’m letting it happen because I don’t know how to stop it or if I should stop it.
I hope one day soon I’ll just wake up and everything will click. Julie will be the love of my life again. Roman will frolic around in bliss because he’s back in a full-time, stable home with two parents tucking him in every night. My sisters will stop scowling at me during Sunday brunch because they’ll accept my reasons for allowing Julie back into my life … my home … my bed.
And Dorothy …
Well, I have to believe that one day I will thank her. One day I will stop missing her. One day it won’t hurt to pass her in the hallway at the hospital. But that day feels unreachable right now.
After lunch with my mom, I grab a coffee to cut through the chill in the fall air and wait for the elevator to take me up to my lab.
“Shit!”
I glance over my shoulder just as Dorothy rounds the corner, holding out her hot coffee that she’s dribbled down the front of her shirt. Before I can say anything, she glances up. From the size of her eyes, it’s obvious she wasn’t expecting to see me when she turned the corner.
“Hi.” My smile reaches a new high, one it hasn’t seen in weeks.
It feels good and awful. Refreshing and heartbreaking.
“Gulp.”
I chuckle. That feels pretty damn good too. It just happens. I’m not doing it to play the part. I’m not doing it for her. It’s for me.
The smile.
The laugh.
The warm sensation of contentment.
It’s for me.
And it’s fucking incredible, even if this moment passes in a blink. For now, I’m just going to keep my eyes open.
“Did you actually just say gulp?”
“Well…” she wipes her hand down the front of her scrub top, making the dripped coffee spread into bigger spots “…I uh, thought it first. Then it just came out.”
“You might need a new top.”
Keeping her chin tipped toward her chest, she continues to mess with the spots. “I don’t have a matching top. Not one that will work with my undershirt and shoes.”
More laughter fills my chest as my grin threatens to crack my entire face. “Sometimes you have to make the alternative work, even if it feels all wrong.”
“Easier said than done.” She looks up.
My words that were spoken with no great meaning, take on a life of their own. Sucking all the oxygen from the space around us. Echoing a very grim reality. Erasing my smile and silencing my laughter.
The elevator doors open. I step aside and let her go first. She pushes the button to the fourth floor. The same floor as my lab.
The doors close.
I move behind her to hide everything that’s etched into my face.
I miss you.
I love you.
I’m living with the alternative for Roman … and for you.
“How are you?” I whisper.
She doesn’t have to say it this time. I hear her gulp. “Fine,” she squeaks like it barely makes it past her throat.
Fine.
I don’t like fine Dorothy. Fine Dorothy breaks my heart because I know her “okay” is spectacular, but fine feels along the lines of barely breathing. Does she know how incredibly fucking fine I am right now too?
The doors open.
She bolts out.
And I would let her go. I really would, but she lifts her hand and wipes her face as her feet move as fast as they can away from me.
I take one more sip of my coffee, toss it in the trash, and follow Dorothy, doubling her pace to catch up to her.
“Don’t! What are you doing?” She tries to move past me when I get ahead of her and turn to stop her. I want to grab her. Shake some sense … shake some more emotion out of her. But I don’t physically touch her.
“A word.”
She shakes her head.
“I’m not asking.”
She bites her upper lip, but it doesn’t keep her bottom lip from quivering or prevent the redness building in her eyes. I jerk my head toward the on-call room, and she leads the way, again wiping her eyes with her back to me.
A groggy resident lifts his head when I open the door to the otherwise vacant room.
“Out,” I snap, holding the door open.
“But I just—”
“Out!” I blow out an exasperated breath, not feeling patient enough to explain my demand with more than one word, and definitely not patient enough to listen to his reasons for not getting out right this minute.
Dorothy turns like she’s decided to flee as the resident slips on his shoes and slides past us with a grumble. But I step in her way again, taking several steps to force her backward as I close and lock the door.
She opens her mouth to protest again, I grab her face, lowering mine to her eye level.
More tears fill her eyes.
“I need you to be okay. I need it like oxygen.”
“Eli …” she whispers, making a solid effort to keep those tears from leaking down her face.
“Tell me you’re okay, Dorothy. Tell me you’re okay, and I’ll let you walk out of here right now.”
“I’m fine.”
“Not the same.” I grimace, feeling her pain as if it were my own … because it is my own.
“I’m fine.” She blinks, losing the battle with her emotions.
“Yeah…” I whisper, resting my forehead on hers for a few seconds before ghosting my lips along her tearstained cheek “…I’m fine too.”
My pulse pounds so hard it’s deafening. When our mouths lock, reality ceases to exist. I’m just so tired of doing the right thing when it feels so wrong.
When she unties my scrub pants, I let go.
I let go of reaso
n.
I let go of worry.
I let go of everything that’s not in this room … in this moment.
We tear apart long enough to discard our tops. Then our mouths collide again while my hands work the hook to her bra. Dorothy doesn’t even try to speak. This is how I know she’s fine. Because “okay” Dorothy would have lots to say. She would invite her conscience to come between us. Okay Dorothy would warn me that she’s not wearing the right bra or underwear to do this.
I miss okay Dorothy. But the part of my soul that’s been starving without her feels some gratitude for her pain because she’s giving me this. She’s feeding my soul, bringing me back to life.
Her hands slide into my hair, deepening our kiss, moaning into my mouth, pushing me back toward a single bed. We kick off our shoes. My hands cup her breasts.
“Eli …” She tips her head back, eyes closed, as I add her bra to the pile of clothes at our feet.
I slide her scrub bottoms and panties off in one smooth motion as my mouth covers one of her breasts. I can’t get enough of her. My hands and lips move along her skin, desperate to consume every inch of her.
We fall onto the bed, both of us working together to get my bottoms and briefs off. With them still clinging to my right ankle, I settle between her legs, guiding her left knee toward her chest, and push inside of her. Our mouths crash together again.
Hungry.
Desperate.
The perfect union of all that we’ve held back.
The legs of the old metal-frame bed scrape along the floor as the springs whine beneath the thin mattress. Dorothy’s fingers curl into my backside while I drive into her. I don’t want it to end, but the need spurs me on. She spurs me on with her tongue mimicking our rhythm and her back arching off the bed, letting me know she’s close.
I need. I need. I need.
I love this woman. She makes me crazy. All of my senses culminate in her presence. I am the best version of myself with her. I just … love this woman.
“Jesus …” she pants, closing her eyes as her head eases to the side and one of her heels digs into the back of my leg.
I press her other leg an inch closer to her chest, like my entire being wants to crawl inside of her … possess her.
Keep her forever.
My neck stretches back, face twisting as I release.
My mind and my heart instantly prepare for her to push me away, pull on her clothes in under thirty seconds, and run out on a wave of regret because the only thing that comes close to the size of Dorothy’s heart is her conscience.
But … she does what she’s always done best. Shocks the hell out of me.
Her eyes flutter open, lips curl into a perfect smile, and she cups the back of my head like I’ve done to her so many times. Then she pulls me back down to her for a slow kiss.
Our kiss ends when something on the floor makes a vibrating sound. It’s one of our phones.
“Eventually,” she whispers, brushing the pad of her thumb along my eyebrow.
I squint.
Her lips form a faint smile. “Eventually I’ll be okay. And so will you.”
A goodbye.
This is goodbye. A redo because the one in my office was horrible. But nonetheless, it’s goodbye. I don’t know if saying goodbye to Dorothy Mayhem can ever be anything but horrible.
I nod because all words remain congested in my throat.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Man in the Yellow Hat
Sex isn’t closure. It’s not a goodbye. And it doesn’t satisfy the heart. It’s a false moment of hope where the body gets its way while the mind turns a blind eye to reality.
My reality?
I have a family.
Tonight I’m dressed as The Man in the Yellow Hat. Julie is a banana, and Roman is Curious George. Roman wanted us to be superheroes, but Julie fell in love with the monkey theme. I really think she was just pissed off that Roman insisted we be superheroes “like Dorfee.”
Julie gives Roman a real banana as a snack before we head out and fill his belly with candy. I snap a quick picture of our little monkey eating the banana and send it to Dorothy because I know she’ll love it.
Me: Not a superhero, but still pretty dang cute!
It’s the first contact I’ve made with her since the on-call room weeks ago, other than the occasional quick passing glance at the hospital. I’m not even sure why it’s such a knee-jerk reaction to take the photo and send it to her. But … it is.
“Your family is on their way over here. Who are you sending that to?” Julie rolls her eyes, peeking around me to see my phone.
“Jesus, Elijah …” she whispers before I can get out of my message screen that has Dorothy’s name at the top.
I turn toward her, but she’s already halfway up the stairs.
“Hello? Where’s George?” Mom calls, opening the front door.
My parents and sisters make their way into the living room, snapping lots of their own pictures of Roman and then of me.
“These are the best costumes!” My mom beams. “Where’s Julie?”
“Bedroom.” I gesture toward the stairs. “I’ll go see if she’s ready.”
I take slow steps down the hallway to my bedroom. Our bedroom? Fuck, I have no idea. I close the door and slither my guilty ass to the doorway of the bathroom.
Julie glances up in the mirror, eyes wet, lips trapped between her teeth.
“I’m sorry.” How unoriginal. Even with sincerity in my voice, the words sound empty.
“What are we doing, Eli?” Our gazes meet in the mirror. “Because I’m here, going through the motions, trying to put our family back together. And I thought that’s what you wanted too.”
“It is.” I drop my chin, feeling too much guilt to even look at her any longer.
“What did I misread? Misunderstand? Because I thought you and Dorothy were over? I’ve been making meals and doing the laundry. We sleep in the same bed, but you never touch me. And I thought it was because of your injuries and maybe Dorothy too … I thought maybe you just needed time to let go. But messaging her pictures of Roman is not letting go.”
I force my gaze back to her. And she doesn’t look mad, she looks hurt.
She stares at her feet. “I get it. I ruined us. I’ve never expected anything from you. I bore the burden. But you begged me to give us another try. So I thought this was what you wanted. And since I’ve been taking my meds and doing the counseling, I’ve realized it’s what I want too. But I can’t do this if you’re not all in. If you need more time, I’ll give it to you. Just ask me. If you don’t want this anymore, then just tell me. But please, I beg you … don’t hold me at arm’s length, making me look like a fool because you can’t decide what it is you want.”
I take off my yellow hat and run my hand through my hair on a deep sigh.
What I want.
I want the impossible.
“Daddy! Let’s go!” Roman tears through the bedroom, ramming into my leg, thankfully my good leg.
Julie turns her head and blots her face.
“Okay, George. Let’s go.” I step out of the doorway.
Roman takes my hand and tugs on it as I try to lead him out of the bedroom. “Come on, Mommy.” He holds out his other hand to her, and she takes it.
As the three of us stand here holding hands, Julie and I look up at each other.
“I want this,” I whisper to her.
She gives me a quivering smile and nods. “Me too.”
We take our little boy trick or treating. I watch him giggle, and it makes me smile.
A real smile.
Julie plays chase with him between houses, as if our little monkey is going to gobble her up, and it makes me smile.
A real smile.
When we arrive home, we give him a bath, and more smiles and giggles ensue. And I think … maybe I can do this. Maybe I can find my way back to this life. Maybe Dorothy is right.
“He’s asleep.” Julie sighs wit
h a fantastic smile on her face as she shuffles into the bedroom, tossing her banana costume on the floor, leaving her in a black tee and yellow leggings.
I rub a towel through my wet hair, freshly showered. Julie’s gaze slides along my bare chest to my jogging shorts. I hate that there’s a part of me that feels like she has no right to look at me this way.
In or out, Eli. Make a decision.
For Dorothy, the day in the on-call room might have felt like the true severing of ties. But for me, it’s this moment. It’s this decision to take back my life, to give my little boy everything.
Julie takes away the space between us one slow step at a time. I’ve waited for so long to see this look in her eyes again, to feel wanted, to feel the undeniable pull that brought us together twenty-two years ago.
But still … I think of Dorothy. Maybe I’ll always think of Dorothy. She will just have to be a scar, a permanent mark on my heart because I let her inside of me. And letting her go has been brutal and not without damage.
Julie rests her hands on my bare chest and presses her lips to my sternum. I close my eyes and slide my hand into her long, red hair. It’s not as soft as Dorothy’s hair. But the shiver it elicits in Julie is familiar. So that’s what I cling to—the familiar.
She feathers kisses up to my neck. My grip on her hair tightens like the suffocating pressure in my chest. Her lips pause at the angle of my jaw, and she waits for me to look at her.
I do.
But just as quickly, I close my eyes and kiss her so she doesn’t see the pain and regret in my eyes. I have to believe someday it won’t be there.
Someday I will be okay.
Julie doesn’t smell like coconuts. But that’s fine.
Fine …
She smells like roses. I used to love the smell of roses.
I drop the towel in my other hand and grip her hip, inching my hand up to her breast. It’s not familiar. It’s larger than it was when I last touched her like this. And much larger than Dorothy’s breasts, which I miss.
Julie’s fingers trace my erection along the outside of my shorts. I’m clearly turned on, and that’s good for us. I just really don’t know if it’s Julie or memories of Dorothy.
Keep This Promise Page 194
