Checked Again (Checked Series)

by Jennifer Jamelli

  NO NO NO.

  Reply.

  No—I don’t want to do Option #2. Please don’t call him or schedule anything.

  Send quickly. People have started to reenter the room. The next session will be starting soon.

  I watch the various men and women filter in around me, filter into the seats throughout the room, as I hold my phone. My phone doesn’t buzz. It doesn’t do anything. So I pick at my nail polish and wait…wondering why he hasn’t replied yet…wondering what he is thinking.

  Pick nail polish. Wonder. Pick. Wonder. Pick. Wonder.

  I wonder. I wonder…

  I wonder if I should just tell him that I won’t go see a new doctor…any new doctor.

  I wonder if I should tell him that I want him to be my doctor…but not my doctor…at the same time. That I want him to help me…to treat me…and…

  And that I also want him…that I want to be able to be with him.

  That I want all of this at the same time…that I want all of this to be possible without him getting into trouble or looking bad in front of his colleagues or losing his job or whatever would happen if he was caught sleeping with a patient.

  Sleeping with a patient. Sleeping with me.

  My mind travels in a new direction…one that has nothing to do with OCD and treatment plans and doctors…

  Well, one doctor is involved, but he’s, well, kissing me. Touching me.

  A slow ache mov—

  My phone buzzes in my hand. One. Two. Three. I push myself out of my train of thought…push his kisses away…push him off of me. For now.

  One new message. Him. Open.

  Okay, well, that leaves us with Option #3. I still need to give this option some thought, though—I don’t know that doing this would be in your best interest (if you even like this option). So…Treatment Option #3—I will help you get through the treatment plan I created for you. We will conduct treatment sessions during non-work hours (evenings and weekends). I will not be treating you as your doctor, though. I will just be helping you as, well, as someone else. Something else. What do you think?

  For once, I’m thrilled that he has found his way into my thoughts. For once, it’s wonderful. I hit reply and type three letters.

  YES.

  My phone buzzes just as I hit send.

  Open message.

  Please think about this option for a little. I’ll be thinking about it too. We’ll talk later.

  I feel my mouth widening into a smile. Then my fingers start moving across my phone, creating a new message.

  Too late, Dr. Blake.

  Send.

  I turn off my phone…because the session is just about to start…and because I don’t want to give him the chance to contradict me…

  5:45 P.M. LAST SESSION OF THE day over.

  I’m tired. And thirsty. And I need to go to the bathroom.

  I’m also anxious. Anxious to see him. Anxious to find out what my surprise is. Anxious to see how he responded to my last text message.

  As I exit the conference room (once more leaving behind Dr. Gabriel, who is currently standing with Kate, waiting in line to speak to the session presenter), I pull my phone out of my purse. Before checking my messages, I speed through the still rather empty hallway. At any second, conference doors are going to start opening, unleashing hundreds of people into this area. I don’t want to be around for that.

  Not at all. I move quickly. Past the front desk. Through the lobby. Moving moving moving (and counting counting counting). When I get to the hallway beyond the lobby, the first floor guest room hallway, I slow down. Not because I’ve suddenly stopped caring about my avoidance of the hundreds of conference-goers who are probably about three minutes behind me. Not because I’ve magically stopped having the urge (no, um, need) to go to the bathroom. Not even because I try to slow down. No. My legs do that all by themselves. Right after my eyes see the body…the back of a body…standing about halfway down the hallway. Still in dark jeans and a long-sleeved thermal tee. One arm by his side, hand in his pocket. One hand up at his ear. On the phone.

  Slowly, I take some steps toward him. One. Two. Three.

  If I could just be another person, another girl, I could…I could just slide my arms around his waist, wrap them around his stomach…pull him against me. Breathe him—

  “Yes. Room 318.”

  I stop walking at the sound of his voice, as he gives my room number to someone on the other end of the phone (who is please, please, please not Dr. Gabriel).

  Standing about ten steps away from him, I stare at his back. I listen for more words. This call must have something to do with my surprise.

  Something delivered to my room? Food? Flowers? Some sort of barbershop quartet? I really hope not. I don’t want them to be singing right by my door and maybe accidentally spitting and—

  Callie. Shhh. Listen.

  I try to listen. But there is nothing to hear. He isn’t talking. So I stand behind him in silence, holding my legs together and wondering how long it will be until I get to go to the bathroom. I can probably hold it for another ten minutes or so, but—

  But I’ve got to stop thinking about it. My thoughts are making it worse.

  So I think about my surprise again instead. And I glance down at my phone. Perhaps he’s sent me another clue. Check phone. No new messages. What? He didn’t even—

  “Callie?”

  My head snaps up. And he’s turned around. And he’s looking right at me.

  His eyes are smiling. His face is smiling. He walks toward me as he talks. “Your surprise has been keeping me busy.” He nods down to the phone still clutched in my hands. “I didn’t even get the chance to text you back.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “However, I did see your last message.” His eyebrows somehow raise even more, and he leans in toward me, only a few steps away now. He whispers. Smile whispers. “And you’re not supposed to be calling me Dr. Blake.”

  His eyebrows stay up. His mouth keeps smiling. He’s…teasing me. He’s…flirting with me. He’s freaking adorable. {Come on in, Damien.}

  “Sorry.” I smile and raise my own eyebrows. “Aiden.”

  “That’s better.” He holds out his hand. “Now, it’s bathroom time.”

  I place my hand in his. Then he starts moving, whisking me through the hallway, up the stairs, and to my hotel room. Still holding my hand, he keys into my room and opens the door. Then he pushes his back against the door to hold it open. His eyes meet mine.

  “Do you know how many times I thought about coming over here, opening your door in the middle of the night last night?”

  My mouth drops open a little and my hand goes limp in his. Then the rest of my body starts to go limp. Fortunately, I remember in time to keep my legs squeezed together.

  I try to speak, to tell him that I thought about going to his room last night…but no words come out.

  He squeezes my hand once, twice, three times. Then he blinks his eyes and shakes his head. Changing the mood. Changing the subject.

  “But right now, you have to go to the bathroom. Text me when you finish your article.”

  I nod and reluctantly let go of his hand, float past him, and watch as he leaves.

  MY ARTICLE IS FINISHED. TYPED. Proofread. Emailed. Done.

  Still sitting on the hotel bed, I grab my phone. I start a new Unknown Number text.

  I’m done.

  Send.

  Surprise time.

  I don’t even want a surprise, though. I just want to continue the discussion he started before leaving me alone in this room. The I wanted to be with you in the middle of the night last night discussion. Then I want the topic to change…to change to an I will be with you in the middle of the night tonight discussion.

  Then I don’t want to talk anymore. Then—

  Someone is knocking at my door.

  “Callie?” He is knocking at my door. “Ready for your surprise?”

  I am.

  I get up off my bed and
head right to the door. I reach out, twist the handle, and open the door.

  And he’s here. Right here. Blue smiling eyes.

  He wanted to be with me last night. He wanted to be with me. And he’s here now.

  I just have to move a couple steps, and I can touch him. I can put my head against his chest. I can wrap my arms around his waist.

  Reading my face…probably reading my mind, his eyes darken. They’re dark and heated now.

  I can do this. I can do this. I will do this.

  One. Two. Three.

  I pick up my foot and move one step in toward—

  “SURPRISE.” New voices. Familiar voices.

  I freeze, one step away from him, my hand still holding the door handle.

  His dark eyes flicker an apology…and some regret.

  I quickly look away, look behind him…where Melanie and Mandy are standing in the now open doorway of his hotel room.

  Oh.

  Chapter 18

  girls’ night

  IN A BLUR, THE SITUATION changes around me. Mandy and Melanie are all of a sudden hugging me, and he…well, he is looking at me. He’s now standing against my hotel room door, his back pushing it open. His eyes are, well, lots of things. Still burning. Still apologetic. Also…questioning. And…hopeful.

  He wants me to like his surprise. He thought I would like his surprise.

  And I do. I really do.

  Still wrapped in a big hug with Mandy and Melanie, I smile over at him. I mouth a “thank you” as I try to block out the thought of the two of us alone together.

  The two of us in my hotel room. In the dark. In the—

  CALLIE!

  I blink away from his eyes…but not before I notice the extra heat in them. Maybe he really does know exactly what I’m thinking…like Mel Gibson in that What Women Want movie. Or maybe my eyes look that dark…that heated too.

  If that is the case, I need to change my eyes, my face, before Mandy and Melanie notice.

  As they let go of me and start talking about margaritas and DVDs and food, I try to look normal. I smile and nod and—

  And I wonder if it works. I wonder if I’ve gotten all of, well, whatever he saw, out of my eyes.

  My sisters continue to talk, and I continue to focus on making appropriate facial expressions…continue to focus on not looking at him…not thinking abo—

  “Is that okay, Callie?” Mandy’s voice. Mandy’s lips moving right in front of me. I have no idea what she’s talking about, though.

  Flustered, I shake my head and try to say something that makes sense. “I, um…I’m just so shocked that you guys are here.” I know I don’t answer her question or even acknowledge her question. But somehow I get away with it.

  Melanie smiles. “We already had the weekend off. Seemed like the perfect time for an on location Girls’ Night.”

  Mandy smiles too, and pushes past me, past him. She kicks off her shoes on my shoe towel and then heads into the hotel room. “Don’t worry, Callie. We aren’t going to use your bathroom. We have our own room.”

  “I—I wasn’t thinking about that.” Honestly, I wasn’t.

  Mandy doesn’t pay any attention to my response. She plops down on my bed. Melanie grabs my hand and drags me behind her as she walks…as she moves right past him. I move right past him…inches away from him…

  Our eyes meet for a second, only a second, as Melanie pauses to remove her ballet flats. Then Melanie yanks me the rest of the way into the room. I don’t even have time to really gauge what he’s thinking. I wonder if that second was enough time for him to read my thoughts, though. I wonder—

  “Are you gonna stay to eat with us, Dr. Blake?” Mandy asks.

  Melanie, who has now pulled me over to the bed beside Mandy, chimes in. “Oh, yes. You have to stay to eat. I already ordered food for you. It’ll be here soon.”

  He looks at me, waiting to see what I think. And I…I want him to stay. And stay. And stay.

  I give him a quick nod. “Eat with us.” I smile. “We’ll try not to be too girly.”

  THE NOT BEING GIRLY THING doesn’t exactly happen. Before we all sit down at the bar to eat, Mandy ends up putting on a channel showing Sex and the City reruns (she says that she can find something less girly, but he insists that he doesn’t mind). We talk through most of the dinner (room service—salads and sandwiches) anyway, so instead of hearing the Carrie/Samantha/Miranda/Charlotte Sex and the City drama, he hears about Melanie’s birthing plan, about Jared’s new girlfriend’s cute new butterfly tattoo, and about Mandy’s upcoming plans with Josh…and so on.

  My sisters occasionally stop talking in the middle of their stories to apologize for the girl talk. And he…he just smiles and shrugs, sitting at the bar across from me and sipping at the beer Melanie ordered for him. I let myself look up at him every once in a while. Every time I do, he catches my eyes. {And every time that happens, Damien starts his song over.}

  I have to remind myself over and over that my sisters are right here in this room…at this makeshift bar table. I have to remind myself that it’s not just him and me...that it probably looks freaking stupid when the two of us just stare at each other.

  And I know that Melanie and Mandy have noticed the staring. They keep making faces at each other when they think I’m not watching. But I see them. And I’m sure he sees them. And it’s pretty awkward.

  Nonetheless, I can’t seem to keep my eyes from floating back up to his again and again and again throughout dinner.

  I try to keep up with Mandy and Melanie’s conversations, but I can’t. My head is too fuzzy…and I haven’t even started my margarita yet.

  I don’t think he’s following the discussions going on around us either. He smiles and nods a lot, but his eyes look like they are somewhere else.

  Somewhere where I think I want to be…

  When we finish eating, we all return our dishes to the room service cart. He then gets off his barstool and goes to stand beside the cart, looking now at Mandy and Melanie. “Thanks for dinner.” He smiles. “I’ll leave you girls to your Girls’ Night festivities now.”

  Mandy, still sitting next to me, smiles back at him. “You could always stay. We haven’t even started to talk about tampons and nylons and waxing yet.”

  His smile—it widens. It becomes even more charming. “Thanks for the offer—very tempting. I really should go take a shower and answer some work emails, though.”

  Mandy laughs. “If you must.”

  He laughs too. Then his eyes move to mine.

  They are stuck with mine. Again.

  He wanted to come over here last night. He wanted—

  CALLIE. Sisters. In. Room. Sisters. Right. Here.

  I cough. Well, I fake cough, and rip my eyes away from his. “I’ll, um, get the door for you.” I move my jello-like legs, my jello-like body from the barstool and start walking toward the door. I hear him walking, pushing the cart, a few steps behind me. I also hear my sisters whispering at the bar. I can’t quite make out what they are saying, but I’m sure I can imagine the gist of it.

  I twist the handle and open the door, and he…he moves to stand right beside me. His eyes meet mine. “Have fun tonight, Callie.” He blinks his eyes. When he opens them back up, his smile is gone. His I wanted to be with you in the middle of the night last night face is back.

  And my body is frozen.

  He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. Just a groan. A sigh. A groaning sigh. He holds my gaze for another…I don’t know how long…not long enough…and then he slowly turns to go to his own room.

  I watch the back of him as he pushes the food cart right beside the wall outside of his room, reaches into his pocket, and keys into his hotel room. Before he goes in, he glances back for a second with the same expression…the same look in his eyes as a second ago. Then he turns and disappears into his room.

  Slowly, I release my fingers from the door handle. The door shuts. I stand, still frozen. I stare at the do
or, at the—

  “Callie?” Mandy comes up behind me, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me around. And her face is teasing. Suggestive. Wicked. She raises her eyebrows. “You know, I agreed right away when Dr. Blake planned this trip, this surprise for you. I really thought it was a good idea.” Her eyes twinkle. “But now…I can come up with some better surprises for you…and none of them involve us, Mel and me, being here.”

  I start to shake my head, but she continues, a huge smile now on her face. “In fact, none of my surprise ideas involve the TV, or margaritas, or food…well, I guess if you want to get creative, you could use whipped—”

  “Mandy—you sound like Jared.” Melanie comes over, pulling me out of Mandy’s grasp and over to the bed.

  Mandy huffs and pretends to be annoyed as she walks over and joins us. She sits right beside Melanie, across from me.

  “Umm…did you see the way he was looking at her, Mel?”

  Melanie’s eyes start to gleam as she glances over at Mandy. They both giggle a little…as though I’m not even here. I give them both a face…mouth closed, eyebrows down…a face to tell them that I don’t know what they are talking about (even though I obviously do)…a face to tell them to stop giggling (even though I know they won’t).

  Eventually, Melanie pulls herself together enough to speak. “Okay, so what’s the deal? Is he your doctor or boyfriend or what?”

  Mandy stops laughing and leans back against a pillow on the bed. “I want to hear this.”

  They both stare at me expectantly, waiting for an answer that I don’t exactly have.

  “Well, um,” I begin, “he might start helping me with my, um, treatment again. But not as my doctor.”

  Mandy and Melanie look confused. Mandy looks like she might start giggling again.

  I try to explain. “He would, um, work with me after business hours. I wouldn’t be his patient.”