Bad Boy, M.D.

by Virna DePaul

  “Was she diagnosed before or after…”

  “She found out she had cancer two days after my father left her for another woman.”

  Lauren winced.

  “Right? She’s always been a proud woman, and rightfully so, but it’s as if after my father left her, she has to prove to herself and the world that she can handle anything on her own, including her cancer.” I ran my hand through my hair. “And yet, she still loves him. I’m not so sure that if he wanted to return, she wouldn’t take him back, even given his infidelity.”

  She didn’t respond. Not for several minutes. We drove in silence, me lost in my thoughts and in my anger for my father, and then she suddenly said, "I didn't want to divorce Samuel.”

  I glanced over at her in confusion, but she was staring out at the headlights sprawled out over the narrow road winding down the foothills.

  "I really didn't," she continued. "Despite the despicable thing he did to me and how much it deeply, deeply hurt me, I wanted to forgive him and to move past it and to stay together. That that was my reaction? It horrified me on an intellectual level, made me feel ashamed, but I can’t deny it’s how I felt."

  She finally looked over at me even as she played nervously with the hem of her dress and her eyes kept flicking toward the headlights. She sighed. "And I haven't told that to many people," she said.

  "How many is many?"

  She smiled, a small, sad, tired smile. "No one really," she quoted me.

  I reached over and grabbed her hand. When I squeezed she ducked her head away from me and wiped at a tear I'm sure she hoped I didn't see. I turned to the road and pretended for her sake that I didn't. But that didn't stop it from breaking my heart.

  At the same time, rage filled me. I remembered meeting her bastard of an ex-husband. The look on Lauren’s face when she’d seen him sitting outside Marcus’s office, and the stress in her voice when he’d called her that day, asking her for another chance. I wanted to kill him for the hurt he’d caused Lauren. For the hurt he continued to cause her. I wanted to kill him for trying to get her back, when she was mine.

  Not his. Mine.

  "I went through with the divorce, but mostly out of pride I think. I didn't want to look stupid. To look weak and pitiful and needy," she continued, her voice clearly thick. "I saw all those women who stuck with their asshole husbands after they cheated and I swore I would never be one of those. Because I respected myself and I had a reputation as a strong, intelligent, independent woman at the hospital."

  She leaned her head against the head rest of my car and squeezed her eyes shut.

  "I could imagine what everyone would say if I just forgave him and swept it under the rug and stayed with him after what he did, with a fucking nurse at the hospital no less."

  I massaged her hand with my thumb as she tried to hold back tears. Again, I felt my muscles tense with possessiveness and rage, but I pushed it all down. This wasn’t the time to be macho. This was the time to be here for Lauren. To prove to her that despite the fact I was younger, I was mature. I was steadfast. I was here for her in a way her ex-husband had never been.

  "So I filed for divorce, moved out, and Samuel transferred to Denver Mercy. But even then, I still loved him and I still wanted to be with him.”

  Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask.

  But I couldn’t not ask.

  “Do you still want to be with him?”

  “I shouldn’t. You’ve met him. He can be an arrogant ass. But he’s a brilliant surgeon. And believe it or not, there’s a sweet side to him. A loving side. When I had his love and his attention, he made me feel important. Loved. We were together over fifteen years, and I know it’s probably just because of shared history, but sometimes…I miss him.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question, Lauren.”

  “No. It doesn’t,” she sighed.

  Lauren tilted her head toward her window and I just kept rubbing her hand. I hated that man for what he did to her. I hated that he was still torturing her, even when he wasn't in her life.

  "He keeps calling me," Lauren said with a quiet sniffle. "He wants to meet. He says he needs me and misses me and wants me to give him another chance."

  "Are you considering it?" I said, my voice more abrupt than I’d meant it to be. But I’d just found Lauren. What if I had found someone special, someone I finally didn't want to let go of only to have her torn from me? How would I deal with that? I'd never had to before.

  Lauren looked over at me. I could still see the streak left by a tear she wiped away too late. My heart thudded as I waited for her response.

  Lauren whispered her answer. "I don’t think so, but how can I know that’s not my pride talking?”

  I could see the devastation on her face even as I heard it in her voice and felt it in my heart. Part of me wanted to push back. To kiss her fiercely. To fuck her until she realized that I was the only man she needed. Instead, I raised her hand and softly kissed the back of it. I didn’t say anything though. What could I say? I hated the idea that she actually might consider giving her ex another chance. That she might still have feelings for him.

  Mostly because I knew I was starting to have real feelings for her.

  "Where does your mom live?" she asked as we finally pulled off the gravel road of the state park and onto a main road toward the highway.

  "South of Denver, Aurora area."

  "That's the opposite direction of me," she said, shifting in her seat. "It'll take you two hours driving me back and then all the way back down across the city. Take me with you."

  I turned to face her, not quite sure I heard what I heard. "What?"

  She nodded and repeated, "Take me with you."

  "Take you with me?" I asked. "To meet my mother?"

  She laughed and rolled her eyes. "I mean of course it sounds crazy when you put it like that. I just mean it will save you the time of driving back and forth and it means that we can maybe spend a little more time together." She hesitated. "I mean, that is, if you want me to. If it makes you uncomfortable or you don't want me to meet your—”

  "No, no," I said, shaking my head. "It's just that I'm probably staying the night and you'd have to squeeze into my twin bed from childhood and—"

  "Ryan." The firmness in her voice stopped my babbling and I reluctantly met her stern gaze. "It's no problem at all.”

  “Alright then.” I flipped the turn signal on and moved over toward the exit for the highway going south instead of north. "Here we go."

  * * *

  Forty minutes later, Lauren and I walked up the narrow stone path lined with my mother's favorite flowers (my mother never met a flower that wasn't her favorite flower). We were holding hands, but as we neared the front door, Lauren squeezed my hand and then let go. I winked at her and led her inside.

  "Hey, Mom," I called, wiping my feet on the rug. "I'm home."

  "In the kitchen."

  Together, Lauren and I walked down the hall lined with picture frame after picture frame of pressed flowers. It was a gallery that could rival a museum's or university's. I could tell the ones I’d done, because they were always just slightly less perfect than the ones pressed by my mother. She always joked that's why I operated on hearts and not brains, like her.

  I guided Lauren into the quaint country-style kitchen and found my mother sitting in her wheelchair at the round table in the breakfast nook reading some dense medical journal.

  "Mom," I said, kissing her on the cheek above her oxygen tube. "I brought a friend for you to meet."

  My mom’s eyebrows rose. "You never bring home friends," she said and my heart ached a little at the weakness of her voice.

  Lauren stepped forward and shook my mother’s extended hand. "Dr. Castle, it is such a pleasure to meet you. I'm Lauren, and I work at Graton’s Gift. I attended your Keynote Speech at the St. Louis conference where you spoke about modern medical ethics."

  "Oh, wonderful." My mother smiled. "Just wonderful. Are you having sex
with my son?"

  I coughed and turned red as my mom grinned mischievously up at me. "Mom."

  "What?" she giggled. "You’ve never brought any girlfriends around. I have years and years of teasing to make up for in a very short amount of time. Lauren, dear, is he using protection?"

  "Okay then, Mom. Time to get you ready for bed."

  I stepped behind my mother's wheelchair and started to push her away as Lauren laughed uncontrollably at my expense. My mother leaned back toward Lauren. "Does he still suck his thumb at night, dear?"

  "Every night," Lauren called.

  I pushed the wheelchair faster toward the back of the house.

  "He's deathly afraid of spiders," my mother continued, chuckling proudly at the brightness of my cheeks. "Be prepared to kill every single one of them for him, dear."

  "Thank you, mother. I can kill my own spiders," I looked back over my shoulder at Lauren. "Ignore her."

  Lauren smiled. "I'll pick up around the kitchen."

  "Oh, no," I said, pausing outside my mom's bedroom door. "You just relax."

  "He never accepts help," my mom grumbled. "Never."

  Lauren crossed her arms. "I'm cleaning the kitchen."

  It was clear there was no protesting or convincing her otherwise so I sighed and wheeled my mom into her bedroom. She grinned up at me. "I like her."

  I glanced back at Lauren, who’d already put on some yellow rubber gloves and looked at the sink full of dishes like it was her next surgery patient.

  "Yeah, mom, I like her, too."

  Once I had helped my mom with her medication and lifted her into bed, I sat on the edge and held her hand. We sat together in the warm glow of her nightstand lamp and I picked at a stray thread on her thick quilt.

  “Is it because she works with you?” she asked, quietly after a long while.

  I had thought she’d fallen asleep already. The medicine often made her tired. I sighed and smiled down at her. “She’s my attending surgeon.”

  “Oh, my.”

  I rubbed my hand across my face. “I know.”

  “Well?”

  My mom waited and I didn’t know exactly what she was waiting for.

  “Well, what?”

  “Is that what’s troubling you? Is it because she’s your attending, is that what’s troubling you?”

  I shouldn’t have been surprised that my mom picked up on my mood. She was after all the one who raised me. “No,” I said, checking the doorway. “I mean, it’s not ideal. But that’s not really the biggest problem.”

  I scratched the back of my head and shift on the bed.

  “She’s divorced,” I finally said. “But I’m not sure she’s entirely over her asshole, dick, piece of shit cheating ex.”

  My mom tapped her finger against my hand as I grumbled a long string of profanities.

  “Sweetheart,” she said, “I loved your asshole, dick, piece of shit leaving father even after he pulled out of that driveway. Part of me still does even as the other part hates him.”

  “I think that’s how Lauren might feel. He wants to meet with her,” I dropped my elbows to my knees like some petulant child. “He wants to get back together with her.”

  My mom grabbed my chin and turned my face toward her. “Ryan, you need to let her go.”

  “But—”

  My mom pinched my chin and I groaned.

  "Listen to me, son."

  I huffed, somehow forgetting that I was twenty-eight and not eight.

  "Son?"

  I met her green eyes, tired and weary, but still sharp and strong.

  "If this man is as much of an asshole, piece of shit, dick as you say—"

  "Cheating bitch," I added grumpily.

  My mom sighed.

  "If this man is as much of an asshole, piece of shit, dickheaded, cheating bitch as you say, then Lauren will see that."

  "I don't want to lose her. I mean, we’re not together. She’s been fighting getting closer to me every step of the way, so there’s not exactly something to lose at this point but—"

  My mom smiled and squeezed my hand.

  "There’s something to lose,” she said gently. “She cares for you deeply, I can tell. But you'll never have more if she has regrets about her divorce. You'll only truly have part of her heart. And that's it."

  I considered her words. Maybe part of her heart was enough. I told myself I'd settle for just a sliver of her heart. Then I wouldn't have to risk her running back to her ex. I wouldn't have to risk ending up with none of her heart.

  "Ryan, I would have given anything to have just one more cup of coffee with your father. I'd have given anything just to sit down with him for fifteen minutes and see if I could get him to stay, see if I could figure out what I did wrong.”

  “Mom—” I couldn’t believe she was admitting it to me. My strong, proud mother, admitting she still wanted the man who’d cheated on her.

  She smiled sadly. “It's the not knowing that’s the worst. Lauren has a chance to know if she actually wants her ex back, and you need to encourage her to take it."

  These weren't the words that I wanted to hear from my mother. I wanted her to tell me to fight for her. I could do that. I could show her how different I would be than Samuel. I could keep him out of her life and give her the life she deserves. I could win her over and make sure she never thought about that asshole, piece of shit, dickheaded, cheating bitch ever again.

  But this was different.

  This was letting go of control. This was laying down my sword. This was stopping the fight and instead putting all the power in Lauren's hands.

  And I knew I didn't want to do that. But as I looked down at my mother, I knew I needed to.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lauren

  I checked my lipstick in the rearview mirror for the seventh time and wadded up a new napkin under my arm pits. I stuck the key in the ignition to drive away for the fifth time before sighing and pulling it back out again. My knees bounced and my heart thudded in my chest and I figured at least if I had a heart attack a trained heart surgeon would be here in less than five minutes to at assist.

  I suppose I was assuming that Samuel would help his ex wife. He was the one that called me after all. He was the one who apologized. He was the one who begged to meet for dinner to talk about 'us', to talk about the future of 'us'.

  And in the end, I’d agreed to meet with my ex-husband on the advice of my current lover.

  The night we’d slept at his mother’s house, we hadn’t had sex. No, lying in his twin bed, we’d simply cuddled until we’d both fallen asleep. We hadn’t even talked, not about work, not about his mom and dad, not about anything. We’d simply enjoyed being with one another, my back against his chest with his strong arms wrapped around me, and it had been so sweet, so unexpected, I’d had to blink back tears at one point.

  The next morning, however, with his mother still asleep, we sat down for breakfast, and Ryan dropped a bombshell on me.

  "Lauren, I don't want to say this, I really don't. But I'm going to because I think it's the best thing for you and I want the best things for you." I watched him in concern as he ran his finger along the rim of his coffee cup. "I think you should meet with Samuel."

  I almost choked on the sip I'd just taken from my own cup.

  He couldn't be talking about my ex-husband. It must be a new nurse. A real estate agent? I wasn’t looking to buy. A pharmacy rep then. That must be it. It must be a guy named Samuel who works for a pharmacy that Ryan knows and who can get us a good deal on some new medication. The only impossible possibility was Samuel, my ex-husband.

  Ryan took my hand that had been lying on the kitchen table and gave me a stern look that made me feel more like the twenty-eight-year-old in the situation than him.

  "My ex-husband, Samuel?" I asked, incredulity still dripping from my voice. "The man to whom I was married and to whom I am no longer married, Samuel?"

  "That's the one."

  "Samuel, the on
e who stuck his," I checked the door to Ryan's mother's room down the hall and lowered my voice, "Samuel, the one who stuck his dick in a nurse at my hospital? Samuel?"

  Ryan tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and smiled.

  "I don't know how many Samuels you know, Lauren. I think the only other one I know is a barista at the Starbucks by my place. But yes, that Samuel."

  I rubbed my forehead and leaned back in the wooden chair. I could understand Ryan wanting me to never see Samuel again, especially after the night we'd shared and the bond we were both clearly building between one another. I could understand him being upset and threatened and reluctant if I told him that I wanted to meet with the man like he asked. But what I could not understand was him wanting me to meet with my ex.

  "Okay," I said, slowly while tapping my finger on the table. "Just to be clear. We are both talking about the man who violated my trust, destroyed our relationship, and broke my heart? That Samuel?"

  Ryan looked conflicted and I expected him to finally come to his senses and wave his hand and say, “No, no, of course not. That's the last thing I want you to do.”

  But he didn't.

  He smiled softly, sadly, and said, "Samuel, the man you might still love. Or at the very least, the one you’re not completely sure you don’t want back.”

  And then I remembered, I told him that in the car before we arrived at his mom’s house. And at that moment, I couldn’t contradict myself.

  So now here I was, hoping I didn't have obvious sweat stains under my arms and hoping I didn't have an even more obvious shake to my hands. Samuel was going to be arriving any minute. I was going to have to get out of the car. I was going to have to sit across from him. I was going to have to speak to him.

  Maybe I didn't have to. I pursed my lips. I could fake strep? Are neck jobs a thing?

  My phone buzzed and it was Bonnie replying to a text I sent her earlier.

  Had a good walk around the neighborhood with the stroller. I can't believe you're meeting with S.