by Mia Sosa
Mark swiveled his chair in her direction and pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. He resembled Clark Kent in one of those moments when only an idiot couldn’t guess that he was Superman.
“You wear glasses?” she asked.
He whipped them off. “For reading only.”
“You look good in them.” She shook her head. Gah. He was so distracting. “Back to what I’m pissed about. You lied to me.”
He leaned back in his chair and rested his elbows on the arms, creating a steeple with his fingers as he settled into the seat. “About what?”
She mimicked his aloof demeanor. “About what? You know about what. You never went on a date with Sharon Castellano.”
His face blanched. “Who told you that?”
“Gracie.”
“Gracie doesn’t follow my every waking moment, you know.”
“Yes, but she knows that Sharon Castellano’s at a business retreat. In Australia. And before she left, she told Gracie she hadn’t heard from you.”
He rose and sat on the edge of his desk. “Okay, yes. I lied to you.”
“Because?”
“Because I think we’re getting closer than either of us anticipated, and I needed to do something to remind myself of the end game.”
She dropped into one of the chairs facing his desk. “Why does there have to be an end game? We’re enjoying each other’s company. Does it have to be anything more than that? I don’t expect marriage. I don’t even expect a long-term commitment. But I do expect honesty, and for whatever reason, we’ve reached the point where you can’t be honest with me.”
His shoulders sagged. “You’re right.”
Finally. A breakthrough. “And?”
He sighed. “And if you want more honesty, I’m being pulled in more directions than I care to keep track of. Gracie and Ethan keep pushing me to meet someone, which I can’t really fault them for since I asked for their help. But I’m lying to them, pretending I’m too busy to meet with that woman when I know something else is holding me back. And then there’s you. And whatever it is we’re doing here. Oh. And I’m running a company where my top managers seem to perpetually have their heads in their asses. It’s a lot to manage.”
She leaned forward and squeezed his thigh. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so stressed. This isn’t easy for me, either, you know. I hadn’t figured on wanting to spend more time with you.”
He studied her. “That’s what you want? To spend more time with me?”
“Yes.”
His eyes softened. “I want that, too.”
“So we’re dating?”
He stood and pulled her out of the chair. “Yeah, we’re dating.”
“And Sharon Castellano is out of the picture?” she asked as she snuggled into him.
“Karen, she was never in the picture. She’s been photoshopped out of my life, okay?”
“Okay.”
Karen smiled. They might not be a perfect match, but she wanted to be with him anyway. So no more second-guessing her feelings, no more worrying about what-ifs. Besides, how bad could things possibly get?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
After the start of Karen’s classes, she and Mark settled into a comfortable routine. They spent a couple of nights together each week, typically at Mark’s place and occasionally at Karen’s apartment.
Because Mark didn’t bring home work often, when she studied, he hovered in the background, watching an NFL game or listening to music. Sometimes she’d catch him staring at her as she reviewed her lecture notes. Today was no different.
Standing behind her, he leaned over and spoke close to her ear. “What are you studying?”
She jumped at the contact and closed the book. “Human gross anatomy.”
He winced. “Is it gross?”
She rolled her eyes. “Ba-dum-bum. This class is going to kick my butt.”
“It just started. How can you tell?”
“The professor’s big on making her students compete for everything. As an incentive to study, you don’t get to work with your group’s cadaver unless you get above eighty percent on your first exam. And our midterms are based on our dissections of the cadavers, so if you have less time to work with it, you’re going in to the midterm exam with a significant disadvantage.”
“That’s brutal.”
“That’s medical school.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders and kneaded them. “You’ve got this.”
“After I study a bajillion hours, I’ll be able to agree with you.”
“Can you spare me a few hours this weekend?”
Karen narrowed her eyes. “A few?”
“Okay, you got me. I need the whole weekend. I have a surprise for you. I’d planned it for the week you were hit with the flu, but as you know, I spent several days nursing you back to health instead.”
He said this with fake woe-is-me expression on his face. Karen wanted to say no, but the reminder that he’d taken care of her that week made her feel guilty about it. Mark seemed to know that she was conflicted about it, since he added, “You can study on the flight there and back.”
“All right. I’ll go. Just the weekend, right?”
“Right. I promise it’ll be worth it.”
Given that she was giving up much-needed study time before her first exam in medical school, she certainly hoped so.
* * *
Mark’s surprise was a visit to wine country in Willamette Valley, Oregon. She’d never been to the Pacific Northwest, a fact she’d shared with Mark when he’d taken her to New York weeks ago.
He’d reserved a room at a local bed-and-breakfast a few miles away from several wineries. The lush grounds of the B and B invited its guests to relax, and Karen and Mark enjoyed their tranquil surroundings by taking hikes and picnicking among the cedar trees in the B and B’s orchard. Mark’s penchant for excitement would not be denied, however, so he’d also planned an adventure, but he wouldn’t tell Karen anything about it.
The last day of the trip, Mark woke her before dawn. “Wake up, sleepyhead. We have to get going.”
Karen yawned and sat up. Mark, who’d rushed to get dressed, paused as he stepped into his cargo pants and leaned over for a kiss. “You look incredible there.”
She’d draped a sheet around her naked body, and her hair hung around her shoulders. “If I look so incredible here, why don’t we just stay here?”
His gaze was as soft as a caress. “Tempting, but I don’t want you to miss this. I think it’ll be an unforgettable experience.”
She couldn’t imagine what he’d planned, so she rushed to get ready, a sense of giddiness making her move at twice her normal speed.
* * *
“We’re going on a hot air balloon ride?”
Mark pulled her to the launch site. “Yes. Up for it?”
Um. She wasn’t sure. The balloons appeared a lot smaller than she’d imagined. And there wouldn’t be much of a barrier between her and the ground below. “Couldn’t I just watch from here?”
Mark’s eyes shone with excitement. “It’ll be great, and I’ll be with you.”
She looked at him with a straight face, doing her best to signal that she didn’t find his promise to be with her impressive. “Unless you have wings, Mark, your presence isn’t all that comforting.”
He embraced her and nipped at her neck. “You can do this.”
“All right. Let’s go before I change my mind.”
Karen and Mark helped stretch out the balloon. The safety personnel then inflated the balloon and did the requisite safety checks. Mark helped Karen climb into the balloon; a few minutes later the balloon rose into the air.
Karen closed her eyes at first, but ten feet in the air, she opened her eyes. “Wow. Just wow.” Still clutching Mark’s arm, she spun around as the distance between the ground and the balloon increased.
“How do you feel?” Mark asked.
“Overwhelmed. You can hardly feel the wind, and
the morning haze makes the valley look magical.”
The balloon followed the direction of the wind, seemingly becoming one with it. They floated above wineries and the Willamette River, and the pilot even navigated the balloon so that it skimmed the river.
Mark caged her in his arms as she held on to the balloon’s basket. “It was a scary start, right? But isn’t this worth it?”
She turned in to him, pushing her hair behind her ears. “Yes and yes.”
“Remember this feeling, Karen, when medical school threatens to overwhelm you.”
She rested the back of her head against his chest, a deep sense of calm washing over her. “I will.”
He’d put a lot of thought into this trip, and while she hadn’t gotten as much studying as she would have liked, she didn’t regret her decision to join him.
Not yet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Saturday after Karen’s first med school exam, she sprang an impromptu gathering on him. “A few students from my study group are getting together tonight,” she told him. “To celebrate the end of the first exam period. I made plans to catch up with them at Bourbon in Adams Morgan. Want to join me?”
The idea of hanging out with a bunch of medical students—in a bar, no less—held zero appeal for him. “I’ll pass.”
Karen snuggled into him and rested her chin on his chest. “Come on. Just an hour or two,” she said, her voice playful. When he didn’t respond, she shook him and pretended to pout. “Pretty please? It’ll be fun.”
“Your idea of fun is very different from mine. I’m a little too old to be hanging out with a bunch of med students.”
She backed up and pursed her lips. “Wow. Sorry I asked. I didn’t realize wanting to grab a drink with friends and, oh, I don’t know, talking with them, would make us star-crossed lovers. It’s not like I was suggesting we hang out at a frat house. And for your information, some of them are your age.”
He pulled her back into his arms. “I’m not in the mood to go out tonight. It’s as simple as that. That’s what I should have said when you asked.”
“Fine,” she said in a clipped tone.
He’d averted a crisis. Next time he would choose his words more carefully. He rested his chin on her head and rubbed her back. Arms at her side—and still pissed, apparently—Karen stood in the circle of his arms like deadweight. He stepped back and lifted her chin. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
She shifted in place, her dim eyes staring back at him. “I have to head back to my place. To change.” She pasted on a smile. “Have fun doing”—she waved her hands in the air—“whatever it is rich single men do on a Saturday night.”
She grabbed her purse and walked out the door, closing it softly. He would have preferred for her to slam the door shut instead. A slammed door meant he’d angered her, but a soft click of the lock was much worse in his mind; it meant he’d hurt her.
An hour later, he ran at a brisk pace along Connecticut Avenue. To clear his head, he told himself. But his thoughts centered on Karen, and he couldn’t outrun them no matter how much he tried. He pictured her at Bourbon, chatting with friends and enjoying herself. He wanted that for her.
Mark ran over a mile before he realized he’d crossed into Adams Morgan, a neighborhood dubbed “quirky” and “eclectic” by travel guides. A hotspot for weekend activities, the area attracted a diverse crowd, from hipsters to suits to college students, but a single man running through the streets at sunset still raised a few brows. As if such a man were suspicious by virtue of the fact that he had no plans to frequent a bar or dine in a restaurant. Why else would one be here after all?
He asked himself the same question when he found himself in front of Bourbon’s entrance. Yes, he might regret showing up unannounced, but the possibility that he’d hurt her feelings earlier propelled him up the steps anyway.
The silver-suited bouncer, a beefy guy with a blond Mohawk, greeted him at the top of the steps. Thor eyed Mark’s running attire and raised a hand like a crossing guard. “Not going to happen, buddy. We have a dress code.”
“I’m not staying,” Mark said as he reached inside the pocket of his shorts for his billfold. “I just need to check on someone and then I’m gone.” He held up a hundred-dollar bill. “Are we cool?”
The bouncer looked at the bill and waved him through. “I expect to see you soon,” he said as he plucked the money from Mark’s hand.
“No worries. You will.”
Mark surveyed the main level but didn’t spot her. He’d been here before, years ago, so he knew there were two other levels where she could be. Two minutes into his search, he found her on the second floor, where, unlike the other levels, an actual bar dominated the loft space. Steel chairs and tables were crammed together for maximum occupancy.
Several members of her group chatted with one another. Karen sat in the dim corner, however, smiling at her friends but not quite engaging with them. He’d done this to her. Put her in a bad headspace such that she couldn’t have fun with her peers. A few poorly chosen words had caused her to withdraw into herself, and he suspected her mind spun with so many thoughts, she couldn’t both process them and be sociable.
He spun around and headed back downstairs. He’d just hit the first step when a finger tapped his shoulder. Karen’s finger.
He held on to the stair rail and looked up at her.
“Going somewhere?” she asked with a soft smile.
“I didn’t want to interrupt. Bad idea on my part.” He gestured at his legs. “And I’m obviously not dressed to hang out.”
She eyed his running outfit. “No, definitely not the suave businessman look I’ve come to know and love. Hang on. I could call it a night and come with you. Let me just get my purse.”
She turned, but he tugged on her arm to stop her. “Karen. Stay.”
She tilted her head to the side and squished her eyebrows together. “You don’t want me to come home with you?”
“I’m headed out of town on business early tomorrow morning. A last-minute trip that couldn’t be avoided.”
“Oh, okay. When will you be back?”
“In about a week.”
“Oh.”
“It’ll go by quickly. And when I get back, we’ll have dinner. And talk. About us.” He climbed the steps to reach the landing and kissed her on the forehead. “Take care of yourself.”
He didn’t look at her. Instead, he raced down the stairs and rushed out of the bar. The night air cooled his face as he gulped in air. Funny. He felt more winded now than he did after his run.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Karen rushed down the main hall of the Fidler Building, eager to get to her human gross anatomy lecture. The entire first-year class of over two hundred students took the class, so getting a decent seat in the lecture hall proved to be a significant challenge.
She hovered near the door and scanned the room for a seat near the front. Pasha, a student in her study group, waved her over, pointing to the empty seat beside her.
“Hey, Pasha, thanks for saving me a seat,” she said as she pulled her laptop from her backpack.
Pasha gave her a warm smile. “No problem.”
During the first week of classes, she and Pasha had bonded over their mutual disdain for Henry Winslow, another student who’d weaseled his way into their study group. At their first meeting, Henry had claimed not to need a study group, explaining that he still wanted to join them because he thought the rest of the group might benefit from his input.
Pasha had wrapped her hands around her neck as though she were being choked, and Karen had pretended to bang her head against the table, after which the women had shared conspiratorial smiles. Later, they’d entered into a pact to ignore Henry altogether.
“So today’s the day, right?” she asked Pasha.
Pasha widened her eyes and nodded vigorously. “I hope we’re in the same group. And I hope Henry gets booted off the island. I couldn’t imagin
e having to be his lab partner.”
The minute their professor entered the lecture hall, the boisterous chatter lowered to hushed whispers. Dressed in a lab jacket and gray slacks, with a pair of eyeglasses hanging from a silver chain around her neck, Professor Haines looked like she’d been plucked right out of central casting. She completed her professorial look with a perpetual scowl.
Their professor approached the podium and tapped on the mic. “Good morning, everyone. My teaching assistants will be posting the results of the first exam at the end of the class. Those of you who scored eighty percent or better will be e-mailed this afternoon with your lab group assignments and should report to the lab for the next class. The rest of you should report to the lecture hall. One of my TAs will be here to answer any questions. Bear in mind the retest will be a new set of questions. Okay, let’s proceed with today’s lecture.”
At the end of the class, Karen sprinted to the back of the room and scanned the test results posted on the wall. The pages listed nothing but numbers: each student’s personal identification number and their grade. She found her number and gasped: 58. Shit. Not only had she failed to make it into the first lab group but she’d bombed her first medical school exam, too. And if she didn’t ace her remaining exams, she’d find herself on probation. Though tears threatened to fall, she blinked them away, smiling through the disappointment because Henry Winslow was staring at her.
“How’d you do?” he asked.
Henry knew asking that question was rude—the unwritten rule of med school was that people discussed grades only when that information was volunteered—but she was sure he didn’t care. If an opportunity to gloat presented itself, the competitive jerk would take it.
Karen grimaced. “Didn’t make it. Guess I’ll be taking the retest in two weeks.”
“Bummer,” he said with a smile. “Better luck next time.”
Still stunned by the exam result, she didn’t bother to show her annoyance at Henry’s obvious pleasure in her disappointing exam score. “Yeah. I’ve got some work to do.”
