Bad For You: An Enemies to Lovers Romance
Page 7
“Is there an issue here, Dr. Ford?” I asked.
Aimee’s eyes were wide and frightened, but a placid expression quickly replaced it. She recovered her composure with a deep breath and a little shake of her head. I could tell she hadn’t expected her interaction with the patient to spin out of control. I could also see that she wasn’t exactly thrilled that I was her rescuer.
“Everything is fine, Dr. Koels,” she replied. “I was just about to grab a social worker to talk to Ms. Barber.” She looked at her. “Does that sound like a good idea?” She asked.
She nodded and her reply was small. “Yes.”
On the one hand, I pitied and empathized with her. On the other, she could have hurt Aimee by accident. Aimee was small and fragile. She stepped out of the room and I followed her, now not knowing what to say. I settled for the obvious.
“Aimee, are you alright?”
She turned and nodded. Her expression was closed, and she looked down at my feet instead of at my face. She still looked a bit flustered. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you. How long were you listening?”
“Not that long. I wouldn’t have done anything if she hadn’t touched you.”
She sighed and her gaze snapped up to my face. Her eyes bore into mine for a long, intense moment. When she looked away, I felt like I’d failed some sort of test. “I guess I owe you one,” she said eventually.
I took a deep breath. This was my chance to get her out of my head. The moment I’d been waiting for.
“No, you don’t, Aimee. You don’t owe me anything.” I frowned. “It’ll be a long time before we’re even. I’ve got a lot of apologizing to do for how I treated you when we were kids.”
Her lips parted in apparent disbelief. I could barely believe it myself. I wasn’t exactly great at apologizing and lord knew I didn’t do it often. I was more of a double down on a bad idea kind of guy. “What?” she questioned.
I dug my heels into the ground and looked her square in the face. “I was awful to you. I won’t try to explain or rationalize it because it won’t make sense, but I’m sorry.” I’d practiced this in my mind for longer than I wanted to admit. It sounded pretty good.
She swallowed. Her eyes crawled around my face again, maybe looking for an ulterior motive. “Okay. That’s, um, that’s nice to hear.”
“Will you forgive me?” I asked. This wasn’t going how I expected. I thought if I apologized, I’d feel better. I didn’t feel any differently at all. I still wanted her. If anything, I wanted her more. It wasn’t fair.
She nodded uncomfortably. I didn’t believe her. “Sure. Look, I gotta go,” she mumbled. “I need to get this lady into rehab.”
I wanted to say something that could make her stay, but I didn’t have anything that would work. I couldn’t make her stay. I couldn’t change her mind with just an apology.
13
Aimee
Why exactly did I have sex with Brandon Koels, tormentor of my teenage years and bane of my existence? Was I crazy? Stupid? Weak? Was it just because I’d been crushing on the man for the last fifteen or so years despite his bad behavior? Was it because I wanted to cross him off my bucket list once and for all? Was it just because he was a good kisser? Because he was such a good kisser.
And now I knew that he was a good kisser. I would know it forever. And I couldn’t un-know it.
So, I tried to pretend it never even happened. For weeks, I managed to stay out of his way and exist in a twilight fantasy world of denial. Then he had to go and save me from a threatening patient, and, even more unbelievably, apologize for bullying me when we were kids.
I fundamentally hadn’t realized that Brandon could apologize. I thought he was physically incapable. I honestly thought that he had no real conscience. It was easier to think of him that way. Like a shark. A shark has no conscience. It just swims around and eats things. Brandon was like that, only bipedal and not a murderer. Probably.
Maybe he was just playing mind games with me. That could be it. I didn’t really think he would play such a sophisticated game of cat and mouse with a woman he tormented thirteen years ago, but what did I know?
Maybe he wanted to sleep with me again? That wasn’t going to happen. I had gotten him out of my system. It was cathartic. Curative maybe. And that was why I didn’t give it a moment’s thought afterward or let it get in the way of my daily life. Yeah right. I thought about almost nothing else.
After getting poor Ms. Barber a social worker and a plan to enter rehab, I retreated to my office to grouse and recover. I was shaken anyway, and my hands were not as steady as they should have been.
I still had rounds to do, but I made one of the more eager residents do them for me. He was thrilled, so it was a real win-win. I sank down into my chair and tried to deal with the reality of Brandon maybe not being the jerk I thought he was. Maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny sliver of decency in the man. I didn’t want to consider it, but it seemed to be true. He saved me. Brandon saved me. Again. I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. Unfortunately, before I could grapple with the prospect of Brandon maybe not being an irredeemable asshole, my grousing/recovery session was cut short by an urgent, unexpected summons to Martin’s office.
Even more unexpectedly, Brandon was also summoned. He was already settled uncomfortably across the large desk from his father. At Martin’s left, an attractive older woman who looked vaguely familiar was also seated and smiling. I felt like maybe I should know who she was, but I didn’t.
“Aimee, there you are!” Martin said happily. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Ordinarily, a summons to Martin’s office meant that someone was in trouble. That didn’t seem to be the case here, however, since in addition to the mystery woman, there was a lot of smiling going on. Somehow it made me even more on edge.
I perched next to Brandon on one of the plush club chairs and exchanged a guarded look with him. He looked just as baffled and uncomfortable as me. More, actually.
“What’s going on?” Brandon asked. He looked like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Smile you two,” Martin ordered us. I obliged and earned myself a satisfied nod. I was very used to Martin’s somewhat sexist requirement that I always look and act pleasant. Brandon didn’t follow directions and got a scowl.
“Smile, Brandon,” he repeated. “I spent a fortune on orthodontia when you were in middle school for you to never smile.”
Brandon had braces? Was he ever awkward like me? I filed the knowledge away under ‘unbelievable trivia.’ He was probably hot even with a mouth full of metal.
Brandon put on the thinnest, most fake looking smile ever in response to his dad’s directive. His teeth were indeed perfect. “Better?” he asked. I could almost see the waves of discomfort pulsating off him.
“Aren’t you liking the hospital?” Martin asked. He seemed intent on tormenting Brandon, and I winced. That wasn’t very nice of him.
Brandon’s response was measured. “It’s been very instructive.”
He was actually making a concerted effort not be rude. I’d never seen Brandon attempt to be civil before, but apparently he could do it because everyone including Martin had to know that he despised this assignment and resented being here. I could see Brandon’s frustration in his balled-up fists and forced neutrality, but he was keeping it under control.
Martin rolled his eyes at Brandon’s discomfort, which only made Brandon frown again. Despite Brandon’s poorly concealed hostility, Martin looked exceptionally happy today. Weirdly happy. He wasn’t typically a very happy, smiley person.
“You’re always such a stick in the mud, Brandon. You’ll never get a nice woman to marry you if you don’t fix your bad attitude,” Martin continued. “I do want grandchildren, you know.”
Brandon blinked. “You--- what?” He looked incredibly uncomfortable to be having this conversation in front of me and the strange woman at Martin’s side. I was just as baffled as he was by the weirdness of Martin’s attitude and
demeanor. Martin made weird personal comments all the time, but this was different. Something was up. “What’s going on here?” Brandon asked again.
Martin grinned like the Cheshire cat. The woman at his side giggled like a schoolgirl instead of the grandmother she could be. Brandon and I exchanged a look with each other, brought together by pure confusion.
Martin was acting really oddly. I hadn’t been paying much attention to what Martin was up to lately, and now I wished that I had. I knew he’d taken some recent vacation, but honestly, I’d been too preoccupied with my own crap. Easter had just come and gone, but I hadn’t even registered its passing, either. Something told me I was about find out what Martin had been doing in recent months.
He smiled broadly at Brandon and me. “I’ve got some news, kids,” he told us. “This is Rosary McNamara. We’re getting married.” My mouth dropped open. “We wanted you both to be among the first to know. We told Faith and Eric, Rosary’s daughter and son-in-law, right before you two.”
In the dizzy moment of surprise, I realized several things simultaneously.
First, I knew who Martin’s bride was. Rosary McNamara. That’s why she looked familiar. This must be Faith McNamara’s mother. Faith was one of our best obstetrics nurses. She had recently married one of our best young surgeons, Eric Carter. I liked them both immensely, but I was certainly not expecting this.
Second, Martin was telling Brandon and me together, like we were his children. Both of us. Tears pricked the corners of my eye and I had to blink repeatedly to keep them from escaping. I’d never known my dad. I’d never had a real father figure other than Martin. He’d taken an interest in me when I was a teenager and made sure I got a good education. He really was the closest thing to a father I had. He willingly and selflessly decided to fill that void in my life and make sure I had a positive male influence in my life. I could never repay him for his kindness, but I was deeply grateful for it.
Third, Brandon was utterly furious. He went stiller-than-still. A muscle leapt in his cheek, his skin was pale, and his jaw was so tight it looked like it had been carved from marble. Hit him wrong and he’d shatter into a thousand razor sharp pieces. His dark eyes were fixed on his father like he wanted to lunge across the desk and murder him. No one had ever looked less happy to find out about a wedding than Brandon did.
“Wow. Congratulations,” I stuttered into the shocked silence and Brandon’s frightening fury. I didn’t really know what to think of this. It was very sudden, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I’m very happy for you both. This is wonderful.” I affixed a smile to my face and attempted to make it real.
I hadn’t realized Martin was dating anyone. I wouldn’t have known what to think of it even if I had. This is good, I thought to myself. He won’t be so lonely now.
Martin grinned like he was the happiest man in the world. “I’m very lucky and blessed. Lucky to find Rosary. Lucky to have my health and lucky to have my family here with me now.”
“I’m not really part of your family,” I said awkwardly.
“Of course, you’re part of my family,” Martin replied, and my heart swelled. “Families get made in all sorts of ways. You’re part of the family I choose to have. Just like Rosary is.”
I returned his smile, feeling vaguely surreal. My heart thumped in my chest with a feeling of validation that I didn’t know I needed. Martin wasn’t one to talk about his feelings or exhibit emotional vulnerability. He also wasn’t usually one to be so… sweet. This was very unusual for him. After all, Brandon got most of his personality traits from his father. This was a rare display for Martin, and I didn’t know what to say.
Martin plunged ahead, clearly ready to move on past the emotional moment. “We’ve got a lot to plan for this wedding, and I’ll need you both to help make it a success. We’ll be having a lot of important, influential guests and everything needs to be perfect. Aimee, I want you to help Faith with the catering. Brandon, I want you to--"
Brandon cleared his throat and cut his dad off. “No offense, but I’m not your wedding planner,” he said. His voice was dripping with disdain. He turned to look at his father with loathing in his eyes. “Congratulations and all but try not to kill this wife like you did my mother. The odds of getting away with murder twice are pretty low.”
Brandon got up and walked out of the office, leaving us all gaping.
14
Brandon
Aimee did not want to be anywhere near me. I don’t think she wanted to share a city or even a universe with me. Unfortunately for her, we shared quite a bit more than just the infinite cosmos. We shared a hospital.
It was with intrusive thoughts of sharing anything with Aimee, even if it was just a hospital, that I acquiesced to the summons to my dad’s office the next day. I knew that I had to play by the rules, at least ostensibly, if I didn’t want to get fired and then disciplined by the military. That would free me of St. Vincent’s, but it would be objectively bad for my career, and it would take me away from Aimee forever. Somehow, that had suddenly become significant to me. So, when the Chief Medical Officer issued me a directive to meet about ‘my position at St. Vincent’s,’ I didn’t really have a choice but to show up.
“Brandon, I want to talk to you about what happened yesterday,” my dad told me. “I want you to understand about Rosary and why I want you at the wedding.” He frowned.
“Because you don’t want your fancy-pants society friends to wonder where your only son is when you remarry?” I asked sarcastically.
My dad looked annoyed. “No.” He frowned. “Alright, partially,” he admitted. “But mostly I’m getting old, Brandon. I’m not going to be around forever. My health isn’t what it used to be. I’m trying to—”
I waved a hand and cut him off. “Don’t. You don’t get to launch into an attempt at reconciliation with me or a dig at the lack of grandchildren. I’m not interested and that isn’t why I’m here. I prefer the self-serving answer because at least I know it’s true.” My voice was furious in my own ears. I swallowed my rage and tried to cool myself down. My dad wanted to have an emotional conversation with me? Kill me now. It was pure manipulation. “I accepted this meeting because I thought it was about something relevant to my position here,” I told him.
My dad’s frustration was obvious on his face. “Shut up, Brandon! It is about your position at the hospital. I’m getting to that part. We may be able to strike a deal if you can put your bloated ego and immature bullshit to the side for two seconds to actually talk to me. I wanted to be nice and friendly, but I see that’s wasted. So instead I’ll settle for quiet.”
His outburst was typically shouty. I cocked an eyebrow at him and sat back in my chair. There was the asshole of a dad I knew. The guy who told me that a 1500 SAT score was ‘slightly above average’ and that my state football championship attempt would have been ‘a lot better if I’d won.’ I knew what was lurking under his fake smiles and affable exterior. “A deal?” I asked. “Alright, let’s hear it.”
My dad’s expression was torn but he plowed forward. “I know you think I was behind your assignment here.”
“You’re damn right I do.”
He laughed a short bark of laughter. “Well, I guess that just goes to show you aren’t a total moron despite your shit life choices. Because I am.”
The insult meant nothing compared to the revelation. “I knew it!” Five months. Five months he let me work here without admitting the truth. Five long months he kept denying that he had any involvement in my incarceration here until it suited him to be honest. Typical. The fact that Aimee thought he had any honor at all was really baffling to me. “How’d you manage it?”
My dad shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I pulled some strings with some important people. The point is that I want you at the wedding and it’s obvious to me that you have no desire to go. I can’t make you go. But I can offer you something in exchange for going.”
I almost laughed. It was almost funn
y, except that it was so goddamn manipulative. “You’re going to let me out of this assignment if I attend the wedding?” Emotional blackmail at its finest.
“Yes. If you participate, behave yourself, and don’t cause me any embarrassment.”
I’d already been here five months out of the six, but I wanted out. I wanted to be free. My time and career were precious to me. I wanted to get back to my life. It wouldn’t exactly kill me to attend the wedding. However…
“One month won’t make a difference.”
“Your assignment is going to be extended to eighteen months, Brandon.”
My jaw dropped open. “What the fuck? Eighteen months?!”
My dad’s face was totally expressionless. “You had to know that was coming.”
Rationally, I did, but I’d been living in denial. I thought it would only be six. I’d convinced myself it was true. Lara and Mark had been telling me it would be extended, but I didn’t want to believe it.
“What’s your deal?” I asked my dad. I couldn’t survive eighteen months in this miserable hell hole. The hospital itself had grown on me a bit, but the present company was unbearable.
“I’ll trade you the early termination of your assignment for your participation at the wedding.”
Participation? He was going to make me do a speech. I just knew it.
“What are your expectations of me if I agree?” I asked. I was suspicious that there would be a catch.
My dad’s expression was neutral. He was now in negotiation mode. “Nothing spectacular. I expect you to attend the rehearsal dinner and wedding, not make a scene, and generally be pleasant. You have to stay the entire time. You have to be in the pictures. You have to smile.”