Don't Marry the Enemy: A Sweet Romance (The Debutante Rules Book 2)

by Emily Childs

  “So fast,” he rasps.

  “I bet you can run faster.” He offers a weary smile. “Tyler, can you show me where your neck hurts?”

  The boy points to the swollen spot, and I palpate the spot gently. With a few stretches and visual throat exam, I give little Tyler a high five, and turn to his mother. “Well, his strep test came back positive, but it looks as if some of his lymph nodes are infected as well. I’m going to prescribe some antibiotics, but if it continues to swell over the next twenty-four hours, or if his fever returns, or he complains of more pain, I need you to go to the emergency department at the hospital, all right? Sometimes the infection can fester and create an abscess. The antibiotics should prevent that, but just in case, please keep an eye on it.”

  She nods, worry still painted on her face.

  “He’ll be all right, Mrs. Whitmore.”

  “Thanks,” she whispers.

  I leave the room once the prescription is in hand and Tyler has a cherry sucker.

  The nurse follows. “I’m still going to talk you into staying.”

  “Sometimes I wish I could, Abby,” I say and plop into the office chair.

  “It’s nice to have regular hours, and you have a way with patients. Doctor Raymond is great, but sometimes his bedside manner is lacking, especially if his regular office is busy. You make everyone feel at ease.”

  “You’re good at the sweet talk, maybe I will stay.”

  Abby grins. She’s a tired mother of three, but I know how much she loves her job too. “Well, it’s nice having another woman around here. Raymond and I don’t have much to talk about sometimes, and Chelsie over there, well she’s more interested in what’s happening on her cell.”

  I snicker. Chelsie is a senior in high school and works in the afternoon. She plans to be a nurse too, but I’m more at ease around Abby. My phone buzzes on the desk and when I see the name, my stomach dips. Why is Zac texting me? I certainly didn’t think I’d like it so much. What is happening?

  “Well, someone likes that message,” Abby teases.

  “Oh, no . . . just a friend.”

  “Girl, I know Zac—he changes my oil, and I can read that name plain as day.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Then you know why I’m here in the first place, and how Zac and I are destined to be mortal enemies.”

  “Well, if my enemy got that sort of reaction, I could only imagine what might happen to the people I liked.”

  I roll my eyes. “Like I said, maybe Zac could be considered a friend.”

  “Well, good. He’s a decent guy who gives my wild things free popcorn when we take the cars in. I’m surprised a woman hasn’t scooped him up yet, not for lack of trying of course.”

  “He gets around, huh?”

  Abby scoffs. “Oh, there’s been a few women with their eyes loaded on Zac. Guess he hasn’t found that one, I suppose. So, what did he say?”

  “What? Oh, I better not say out loud.”

  “Josephine, you will spill this instant. I need it—Ralph has been out of town for a week, I need something saucy.” My cheeks heat, but I show Abby the text. For a hot second Abby’s eyes brighten, ready for something raunchy, but her shoulders slump soon enough. “That’s it? He found some cardiac book of yours?”

  “Don’t you think that’s hot?”

  “No.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Oh, I’m all hot and bothered now.” I snickered and reread the message. A simple, I found your cardiac book and because I’m a hero, I’ll drop it by later.

  Abby rolls her eyes and steals from the supply of suckers on the empty bookshelf. “That was the most anticlimactic moment of my day. I’m leaving. Are you heading home?”

  “In a little while, I have some paperwork and now I’m waiting for my book, right?”

  “Oh, maybe I’ll hang around and see what happens after hours.”

  “Get out of here,” I laugh and toss a wrapper at the woman. Abby waves like we’re best friends. Truth be told, it feels like we are. Everyone around here makes me feel like I belong in their tightest groups. Almost like I was making friends. New York is home, but I have colleagues there. Not friends. Especially now that I cooled things with Emmitt. His friends were mine, so now I have even less than before. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like, but as Abby abandons the office, I don’t deny the warmth blossoming in my chest. Maybe I’m glad my world flipped upside down.

  After a bit of paperwork, I check my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Not that it matters what I look like when Zac stops by, but I tousle my ponytail all the same, and freshen up my mascara.

  I’m distracted enough that I don’t check the name when I answer my phone.

  “Hi, Jo.”

  I hold my breath. “Emmitt, uh, hi.” I don’t want to do this. The after a breakup discussion. Not tonight.

  “Jo,” Emmitt croaks.

  “Emmitt, is something wrong?”

  He clears his throat again. Something is definitely wrong. “Yes,” he says. “I uh . . . there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Emmitt,” I whisper, gripping the phone. Emmitt never stammers. “You’re scaring me, what’s happened?”

  “Listen, I felt I needed to be the one to tell you . . .”

  “What?” I shout after another maddening pause.

  “Um . . . Joseph Garcia passed away.” Emmitt takes a deep breath, and his voice changes as if the words bring him a sense of relief.

  “What? When?” I gasp, hand to my chest.

  “A few days ago.”

  “How?” I say, desperate to keep my voice steady. I love a great deal of my patients, but Mr. Garcia was special. He was a simple man who loved fiercely. How can he be gone?

  “His valve gave out. He wasn’t taking his medication every day . . . it happens, Jo. I’m, uh, I’m sorry, I know you had a good rapport with him.”

  “Why . . . why didn’t you mention this sooner?”

  Emmitt’s voice sounds dry and gravelly. “Well, you broke up with me for one—”

  “You couldn’t rise above it?”

  He pauses. “And I didn’t want to upset you. I don’t want to argue or anything, Jo. I’m telling you now, but I need to . . . get back to work. Death is part of the job. We can’t get emotional every time.”

  Easier said than done.

  “I know,” I rasp.

  “Okay. He died peacefully if that helps.”

  “Okay.”

  He hovers there like there was more he needs to say. I swipe at the tears in my eyes and reluctantly ask. “Anything else?”

  Emmitt sighs loudly. “Actually, yes. I promised I’d call and talk with you.”

  Oh, no. Was I losing my job? Emmitt has an in with the higher ups. Maybe he’s said something and I wasn’t welcome anymore. “About what?”

  “I think it’s best to tell you before you come home, you know?”

  “Emmitt,” I snap. “What are you trying to say?” I want to break down and cry over Mr. Garcia, and I’m losing my last bit of patience.

  “I’ve started to see Greta.”

  My breath catches in my chest. “Greta as in . . . the woman we both work with, Greta?” The woman who was supposed to take care of Joseph. That isn’t fair and I know it, but I still think it.

  “Yes, Josephine, what other Greta do we both know?”

  My jaw tightens. Three days. Three short days and Emmitt has moved on. “How long have you been seeing her?” I ask without trying to hide the accusation.

  Something snaps inside when he takes a moment too long to answer.

  “Nothing happened while we were together, if that’s what you think.”

  “Oh, my gosh, Emmitt! Nothing happened but you were what? Thinking about it?”

  His voice darkens. “What do you want me to say, Jo? It’s not like we were in a good spot. We hardly had any kind of meaningful conversation. You’ve been drifting for a long time.”

  Hot tears carve tracks down my cheeks. I broke
up with Emmitt, I know that, but this is like a knife to the heart, like I was disposable. “You’re right, Emmitt. It was all me. You’re such a . . . you’re such a clueless jerk, do you know that? You haven’t seen me in so long, Emmitt. Why do you think I said we needed to take a break?”

  “Why are you mad at me? You ended it.”

  “Sounds like it was a good thing I let you off the leash so you could go after who you really wanted.”

  “Wow, you’re being so childish.”

  “No,” I say. “No, I’m finally using my voice, Emmitt. That’s all.”

  I should hang up, but I’m too numb and hold my phone to my ear. Emmitt doesn’t respond for a long time, but when he does his voice trembles in barely managed fury. “The truth, Jo, is that what you want?”

  Let me have it, I think. It doesn’t matter.

  “The truth is,” he goes on, “it was exhausting carrying you. Shouldering the baggage you won’t let go. I tried. Tried to love you, to push you, but you were like deadweight I couldn’t revive. We started out great, but somewhere along the way you changed. I won’t apologize for moving on.”

  Me. Always, always me. My chest squeezes as I reel through our three-year relationship. And it’s true. Whenever an issue arose, I was to blame. My lack of ambition, my daddy issues, my mommy issues, my inability to focus. Emmitt has no shortage of excuses for my bad behavior.

  I’m a fool. A blind, stupid fool for not seeing all of it sooner. Eyes burning, I smile. “You know what, Emmitt,” I whisper. “Thank you for making things so clear for the first time in so long. I wish you the best, really. I hope you fulfill Greta better than you did me.”

  I don’t wait for his response before I disconnect and throw my phone across the bathroom. The screen cracks as it slams on the floor, but I don’t care. I hug my knees against my chest and drag in sharp, ragged gasps. My heart shatters, pieces together again, then shatters once more.

  I lost someone dear to me. Feel betrayed by another. There are feelings I haven’t felt in years. Moments of betrayal, of loneliness I wish I could forget.

  When a sob bursts from my throat, I bury my head in the tops of my knees and like when I was younger, the bitter chill covers me again. I am utterly, entirely alone.

  16

  Zac

  I creep into the clinic, the lights are dim, the building quiet. I smile, though, the Gardener family has put a lot of effort into the place to make it nice and comfortable for the community.

  “Jo?” I call out. No answer.

  I drum the fat textbook and consider waiting in the front lobby. The BMW is outside, so she’s here. Probably busy. But after a few minutes I get bored, or maybe antsy, and head back to the offices.

  I don’t know where she has her setup. Doctor Raymond’s office is locked, so I check the next office. No nameplate, and the room is practically empty, but I note Jo’s purse on the desk and a water bottle. The only thing missing is the woman.

  A muffled shout comes from the bathroom. My heart leaps into my throat when the sound is followed by a crack of something breaking. The sliver of light bleeds into the dim hallway as if beckoning me forward. The women’s bathroom—uh, that might be going too far. I check the hallway. The place is empty, but for Jo. My pulse won’t stop racing with the feeling something is wrong. With a hard swallow, I forget boundaries and open the door.

  My blood turns to ice. Jo is slumped against the wall, her head buried in her knees, sobbing. I swiftly crouch at her side.

  “Jo, what’s wrong?” I rest my hand on her forearm.

  She doesn’t push me away, lifts her head, so I see her red eyes. They bounce between mine. A single, silver tears drips onto her cheek and I brush it away with my thumb. I didn’t expect it, but I must’ve been ready because when she flings her arms around my neck, I hold her against me like I might never let go. Jo buries her face in my shoulder, her wet lashes flutter against my neck.

  “Hey,” I whisper, stroking the back of her head. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  She sniffs and pulls back but leans her head on my shoulder. “Where do I start?”

  “Wherever you want.”

  “He’s dead,” she whispers. “A patient, who I really loved.”

  “Jo, I’m so sorry.” I curl my arm around her shoulders and adjust, so I can pull her against my side. “Want to tell me about him?”

  She smiles through her tears. “He was such a wonderful man. Afraid of his diagnosis, you know. He didn’t trust doctors, but we . . . he trusted me, I guess. His son just died last year and now . . . now his wife will be left to bury him.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek and let her cry softly on my shoulder. I blame myself, naturally. She’s here because of me, when she could’ve spent precious time with a person who she loved.

  “Even if I’d been there, I doubt I could’ve done anything, Zachariah,” her soft voice breaks me from my self-loathing.

  I glance at her. “You reading my mind?”

  She smiles, but fresh tears are in her eyes. Her finger touches between my brows. “When you’re frustrated, you get a furrow. Right here. You’re blaming yourself, aren’t you?”

  “You’re here because I called—”

  She silences me with her fingers to my lips. “I know, but I’m telling you this as a medical professional, I know in my heart he was very sick. His heart couldn’t take more. It’s just . . . I just loved him.”

  I pull her tightly against me, I don’t even care anymore.

  “That’s not all, though,” she goes on after a long silence. She sighs. “He’s a nightmare.”

  “Who is?”

  “Emmitt,” she mutters. “He knew how much Mr. Garcia meant to me, but he used his death as an excuse to call me because what he really wanted to tell me was that he’s moved on. So when I get home, I shouldn’t be surprised when he’s sticking his tongue down another woman’s throat.”

  “Wait,” I snap. “He told you a man you loved is dead, then continued to tell you he has a new girlfriend?”

  “Oh, he told me a lot more than that.” She wipes her eyes. “I’m damaged Zachariah. I’m the cause of all his woes, did you know that? I have baggage that is deadweight.”

  Jo spills it all, everything the tool told her. The things he told her after he broke her heart with something like a death. The man has no tact at best, but in truth, there are a thousand things I’d personally like to say to Doctor McDouche.

  When she’s finished, Jo covers her face with her hands. She doesn’t cry but screams behind her palms. Rage, betrayal, hurt all echoes in the women’s bathroom.

  What can I say? I don’t know, so for a long time, I sit with her, holding her, giving her my body as a support. When the bathroom goes quiet, I nudge her chin with my knuckle. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

  “I just want to go home . . . well, to the motel.”

  I smile. “Come on. You didn’t think too much of this place when you first came, but I want to show you something that will make you feel better. I promise.”

  Jo hangs her head, but one corner of her mouth lifts in a cautious smile. “All right. I don’t think I’ll be great company, though.”

  “I’m not worried, Jo. I’ll take you any way you are.”

  Jo studies me for a pause. I stand and hold out my hand. She stares at my palm like it might catch fire, but slowly she takes my hand. I tug her to her feet, our bodies closer than I thought they’d be. We lock eyes, inches apart. She rolls her bottom lip over her teeth. I tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

  “Come on,” I whisper and tug her into the hallway.

  Jo stops in the office, grabs her things and saunters at my side all the way to my truck. My breath catches when she rests her hand over mine on the seat.

  “Sorry,” she pulls back.

  I stop that right away and thread my fingers with hers. “For what?”

  She smiles, staring at our hands. “I hate to admit it, but holding your hand
is helping.”

  I laugh and pull into the traffic of the highway. “Are you admitting I’m not so bad, Jo?”

  “Don’t let it go to your head, Zachariah, but I am going to hold your hand for now.”

  “Whatever you need. I think I’m getting the better part of the deal, though,” I grin and pulse a few squeezes into her palm.

  Jo doesn’t say much, but she’s smiling. She takes a few deep breaths and before too long, her thumb is absently caressing my hand. I’m not positive she knows what she’s doing, but the simple touch ignites a need inside me that I never expected or imagined from the first time we met. The woman who’d slammed into my shop, hated me, snapped at me, I don’t mind the idea of her staying longer. In fact, I think I’d rather it if Jo Richards never went home.

  If I pretend that she’s here to stay.

  17

  Jo

  Zac’s touch cools my skin and warms me at the same time. His calloused palms bring a delicious solace I didn’t know was possible.

  The sunset brightens the sky in brilliant pinks and oranges, and turns the grove of trees Zac leads me through into gilded forest.

  “I came here a lot after my dad died,” Zac says halfway up the dirt road. “I think my uncle knew I loved it, so he would drive us out here at least three times a week.”

  I give him a sad smile. He’s being vulnerable now, and I love it. Even if I don’t know how a few trees were going to help my broken heart tonight. We round a fence and then I understand. My eyes bug out of my head as I stare at the breathtaking work of nature.

  “Wow,” I say in a breathless whisper. Zac grins, clearly pleased. I release his hand and take a few steps closer. “It’s so . . . beautiful.”

  This tree is unlike the rest. Reverent even. The oak isn’t overly towering, but incredible, nonetheless. I pad around the sprawling limbs. From every direction the tree releases massive boughs. The heavy limbs sprout high toward the sunset, while others had dipped low; some cut through the earth only to sprout back up again like sea serpents diving beneath the waves. Golden sunlight dances across the smooth moss-coated bark and I think I could stay here forever.