House Calls

by Michelle Celmer

  She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his shoulder. “It’s not that.”

  “Do you?” he asked, turning to face her. “Do you love me?”

  “There are different kinds of love, doc.” She cringed when she realized she’d called him doc again. It was her internal defense mechanism kicking in.

  “We’re back to that again?” He sighed and looked away. “So, what kind of love is it that I’m feeling? The pretend kind?”

  “Pete—”

  “It’s a simple question, Maggie, do you love me or not?”

  Tears burned her eyes. Why was he doing this to her? Couldn’t he see that he was making her miserable? Did he enjoy torturing her? “We’re going to go home, and you’re going to get back to your regular life and this thing with me isn’t going to seem so important anymore. It won’t last, so it doesn’t really matter what I feel.”

  Pete turned and lifted her into his lap, so her legs were wrapped around his waist. The sheet pulled to the side, leaving her completely exposed. Her breasts pressed against his chest and his denim shorts chafed her between her thighs.

  “Yes or no, Maggie. I need to know.” Pete took her face in his hands and forced her to look him in the eye. “If the answer is no, don’t be afraid to say it.”

  He was tearing her apart. If she lied and told him no, she would hurt him. If she told him the truth, she would be hurting herself.

  But she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t hurt Pete, even if that meant hanging her own heart out to be filleted and chopped to pieces.

  “Maggie—”

  “Yes! I do love you.”

  A slow smile curled the corners of his mouth and he pressed a very gentle kiss to her lips. She kissed him back—it was that or burst into tears. She didn’t want to talk anymore. Didn’t want to think.

  His hands slid over her bare back, across her shoulders. When he kissed her so sweetly, touched her so tenderly, she could pretend they had a chance. She could make herself believe this would last. She could pretend this would all work out.

  She felt herself melting, dissolving in his arms as the hands caressing her became more bold and the kiss went from sweet and sensual to hot and urgent.

  Only when the sheet dropped away altogether, landing in a pile on the stairs below them, did it occur to her that they were outside and she was naked.

  “Pete,” she said breathlessly. “Someone might see.”

  He cupped her backside, fitting her more snugly against him. “No one will see.”

  He kissed her mouth, her throat, the tips of her breasts, and she was so dizzy with desire she didn’t care if someone did see. All she wanted was for Pete to be inside her again. She needed him to be.

  She rose up on her knees and unfastened his shorts.

  Pete shoved them down. “Make love to me, Maggie.”

  Very slowly, so she could savor every sensation, every nuance, she lowered herself onto him until he was deep, deep inside her. They fit so perfectly together she wanted to cry.

  “I love you,” Pete whispered. He gathered her face in his hands, kissed her softly. “Tell me you love me, Maggie.”

  “I love you, Pete.” It didn’t hurt so much to say it anymore. When they were like this, she could pretend everything was perfect.

  Pete’s hands wandered over her skin, touching her intimately, and she couldn’t hold herself still any longer. Her body began moving—slowly at first, then faster, thrusting against him. Already she had that light, floaty, dizzy sensation in her head. Her body hummed and crackled with energy. She didn’t want this to end, but at the same time she wanted to feel that completeness, that absolute connection she’d felt with no one but him.

  “Oh, Maggie,” Pete whispered, and at the sound of his voice, as his muscles coiled tight with release, she came undone.

  Maggie sat in the shade on the deck in Jeremy’s backyard, watching as the party buzzed around her, letting herself pretend, if only for a few hours, that she might someday have a life like this. Wives stood in clusters chatting about hospital gossip and children splashed in the enormous in-ground pool.

  There was food everywhere. Chips and dip, vegetables and fruit, and everyone seemed to be snacking. She wondered if it would ever be that easy for her. If she would ever be able to look at food and not feel disdain. Not view it as the enemy. It was getting easier, but she didn’t think she would ever lose the fear of being fat again. But it was getting easier to live with. Pete no longer had to force her to eat.

  He’d been so patient with her—so understanding, yet firm. She didn’t even want to think where she would be without him.

  Across the yard—a rolling carpet of pristine emerald-green grass—Pete stood by the barbecue with Jeremy and several other doctors from the hospital. He looked tan and healthy and happy. He still walked with a pronounced limp—and always would—but to see him standing there, no one would guess the hell he’d been through.

  Before her eyes, he’d become the confident, sociable man he was before the shooting. And despite their new intimate relationship and the countless times they’d made love in the past week, she couldn’t shake the feeling they’d reached the beginning of the end.

  He didn’t need her anymore.

  “Maggie, can I get you anything?”

  Maggie looked up to find Mel, Jeremy’s wife, standing beside her. Her long auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her tank top pulled tight over the subtle bulge of her belly. Her face was free of makeup, giving her a fresh, natural look the other wives lacked. There was something about her, a sincerity that had made Maggie like her the instant they were introduced. She had also noticed that while Mel was friendly with the other women, she kept her distance. She was more of an observer than a participant. She reminded Maggie a lot of herself in that way. There was a look in her eyes, an insecurity Maggie could identify with. Given the chance, she could see her and Mel becoming friends.

  Too bad they would never have the chance.

  Maggie smiled up at her. “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Why don’t you come inside and keep me company while I fix the potato salad?” Mel said.

  “I’d love to.” Maggie pushed herself out of the deck chair and followed Mel through the sliding-glass door into an enormous kitchen with every modern convenience known to man. Every room that she’d seen in the sprawling, Colonial-style home had been impeccably decorated down to the finest detail. Professionally decorated, Maggie was guessing, and everything looked brand-new. “You have a beautiful home.”

  Mel opened the fridge and pulled out a bowl of boiled potatoes, setting it on the island in the center of the room. “I told Jeremy I didn’t need anything this big, but he insisted.”

  “I’ll help you peel those,” Maggie said.

  Mel took two paring knives out and handed Maggie one. They each took a potato and started peeling. “Don’t get me wrong, I really like the house. It’s just not what I’m used to. When I met Jeremy I lived an apartment the size of my bedroom closet.”

  “How long have you been married?”

  “Four months,” she said, and laid a hand over her belly. “And since you’re probably too polite to ask, I’m five months pregnant. Not planned, obviously. The consensus among the other wives is that I trapped Jeremy.”

  “Well, if you two love each other, I guess it doesn’t matter what people think.”

  “That’s what I keep telling Jeremy. It upsets him, though, that I haven’t been accepted into the inner circle.”

  Maggie finished one potato and grabbed another. “Does it bother you?”

  She shrugged. “For Jeremy’s sake, I guess it would be okay. And it’s not that they’re bad people. They’re just not my kind of people, you know?”

  Maggie nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  She wondered, would Pete expect a wife who would blend into the social scene? Not one who would always be on the fringes of the conversation—on the outside, looking in. He definitely deserve
d better. She didn’t like to use the term generic, but someone who better fit the mold of a proper doctor’s wife. Like Lizzy would have been.

  He’d said that if he had it to do over, he would have done things differently. Maybe that had been his subtle way of telling her, or subconsciously admitting to himself, that he wanted another chance with Lizzy.

  “How long have you and Pete been together?” Mel asked.

  “We’re, um, not exactly together. He’s my patient.”

  Mel grinned. “I’ve seen the way that man looks at you. Whether you think so or not, you guys are definitely together.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Mel laughed. “It usually is. That doesn’t mean it won’t all work out in the end.”

  Maggie didn’t even want to think about everything she and Pete would have to work out if they were to make a relationship last. She wouldn’t have a clue where to begin. They were just too different. And too much alike.

  Yet she couldn’t help imagining herself and Pete married, living in Gaylord, her belly round with his child someday. She imagined long walks holding hands and long nights making love. On the surface it sounded doable—conceivable even—until she reminded herself that his feelings for her were temporary.

  “I know Jeremy thinks the world of Pete. He’s really hoping he’ll accept the offer.”

  “Offer?”

  “The ER position at the hospital.” When Mel saw the look on Maggie’s face, her hand stilled on the potato she’d been peeling. “Uh-oh, why do I get the feeling I just let the proverbial cat out of the bag?”

  “It’s okay,” Maggie said, swallowing back a world of hurt and rejection. “I’m sure he was waiting until he made a decision to tell me.”

  Pete was getting on with his life, making plans for the future. It was a good thing. She was happy for him—even though on the inside, she was shattering.

  “I’m sorry, Maggie, I just assumed you knew.”

  “It’s okay.” Maggie forced a smile. “I hope he takes it.”

  “Maybe he’ll ask you to stay here with him.”

  Maggie gave a vague nod. If Pete had any intention of asking her to stay, he would surely have brought it up by now. But that was okay.

  If he didn’t ask her, it would save her the torture of having to tell him no.

  Fourteen

  “Do you miss your job, Maggie?”

  Maggie lay in Pete’s arms in the dark, legs looped, bodies slick with perspiration. They’d barely returned from Jeremy and Mel’s party before Pete had begun kissing and undressing her, leading her toward the bedroom they now shared. And she’d let him, even though she was aching inside, knowing their time was almost up. She knew what she’d been getting herself into, and here she was, right where she thought she’d be—preparing for the end.

  “Yeah, I miss it.”

  “You really love your job.” He voiced it as a statement, not a question, as if he were trying to rationalize its validity. She loved her job, therefore she should go home and get on with her life.

  “Yeah, I love it.”

  “So did I. I didn’t realize how much until I started volunteering. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.” He held her tightly against him. “I’m ready to move on now. I’m finally ready to get back to my life.”

  Why didn’t he just say it was over? Why did he have to hint around like this?

  Guilt. He was too nice a guy just to blurt it out. To hurt her. He would try to let her down easily.

  He stroked his fingers up and down the length of her spine, giving her shivers. “I think…I think it’s what Rachel would have wanted.”

  Maggie squeezed her eyes shut. “She would have wanted you to be happy.”

  “I just wish I could close my eyes and see her how she used to be. But every time I try, I still see her lying in that hallway. I still see the blood.”

  “It won’t be that way forever,” she said.

  “I’ll always feel that her dying was unfair. I see people die all the time. But never someone I was close to. I guess I didn’t know how to deal with it, and that was hard to admit. Kind of like your feelings toward food.”

  She gave a rueful laugh. “It’s definitely a love-hate relationship. I thought when I lost weight my life would be perfect, but it doesn’t get any easier, does it? I thought I was in control, but it was an illusion. I’d never been more out of control in my life.”

  “And now?”

  “I know that life is work. There’s no easy answer to anything. The important thing is that I’m healthy. And it’s okay if I’m not always in control.”

  “How does your mom feel now that you’ve lost weight?”

  “She doesn’t know about it. I haven’t seen her since I started losing.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want her to think that I did this for her—for her approval. I don’t need that anymore and I don’t want it. I did this for me.”

  “So, what? You’re never going to see her again?”

  “I will eventually. When I can deal with the fact that she’s never going to change. When I’m ready to forgive her. I haven’t reached that point yet. But like you said about your parents, at least they taught you how not to raise a family.”

  “You want that?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “A family.”

  I’d like one with you, she wanted to say. “Someday,” she said instead.

  He was quiet for a minute, then asked, “Are you okay, Maggie? You seem…sad.”

  No, she wasn’t okay, she was miserable. She couldn’t lie here like this with him and pretend everything was all right when it wasn’t. And at the same time she wanted to hold on to their last bit of time together.

  “I’m fine,” she told Pete.

  “Didn’t you have fun today?”

  “I had a lot of fun. I really liked Mel.” So much that she was sorry they would never have the chance to know each other better, to be friends. “I’m just tired.”

  Sick and tired of being the one who was stiffed in the end, the one who walked away with the booby prize—her own battered pride.

  If he couldn’t come right out and say it, if he couldn’t make the first move and just end this, maybe she would just do it for him.

  Tomorrow, she thought as she snuggled against the long, lean warmth of Pete’s body. As he sighed and held her closer.

  She would definitely say something tomorrow.

  Pete pulled the SUV up to the cottage, cut the engine and hopped out, an uncharacteristic spring in his step. Everything was in place. Today was the day he and Maggie were going to have a talk.

  She’d been acting a little weird this past week, ever since Jeremy’s party. Much quieter than usual. He was hoping his news would be enough to pull her out of whatever funk she’d slipped into. He hoped it would be enough to make her see that he really did love her. He’d told her at least twenty times each day, still, he didn’t think she believed him. She said actions spoke louder than words, so he hoped his actions today would do the trick.

  He walked to the door and stepped inside, nearly tripping over the suitcases stacked there. Maggie’s suitcases.

  “What the hell?”

  “I’m going home.”

  Pete looked up to see her standing in the bedroom doorway. Her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying. He had the sinking feeling something terrible had happened. A death in the family, maybe? “What’s going on?”

  “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “You can’t do what?”

  “I can’t stay here and pretend everything is okay. It’s tearing me apart. I have to go.”

  She was leaving because of him? For a second he was speechless. “I thought everything was okay.”

  She gave him that look, the one that said he was full of it.

  “Okay,” he admitted, “you have seemed a little quiet this week. I should have asked what was wrong…”

  “But you don�
�t like to talk about feelings.”

  Boy, did she have him pegged. “So tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Did you take the job?”

  “The job? How did you know—”

  “Did you take it?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You should take it. You’ll be happy here.”

  He knew, from the way she said he would be happy here, she wasn’t including herself in the equation. “We, Maggie. I wouldn’t be happy here without you.”

  She lowered her head, looked at the floor. “You say that now, doc.”

  Oh for cryin’ out loud, was she going to start with the doc thing again?

  “You should call Lizzy,” she said.

  Lizzy? Where the hell had that come from? “Maggie, what are you talking about?”

  “You said if you had a chance to do it all over, you would do things differently. This is your chance.”

  He smacked himself in the forehead. “Oh my God, Maggie, I was speaking hypothetically. I didn’t mean I wanted to get back together with her.”

  “But she’d be the perfect woman for you.”

  “Lizzy is cold and spoiled and self-centered. How would that be perfect for me?”

  She didn’t seem to know how to answer that one.

  “Do you love me, Maggie?”

  She lowered her head again. “Yes.”

  “And I love you. So wouldn’t that make you the perfect woman for me?”

  She looked so hopelessly confused, so genuinely conflicted, he had to smile. Why she continued to fight this, why she wouldn’t believe he loved her, was a mystery to him.

  He walked across the room to her, tucked his finger under her chin and lifted her face. “Why can’t you let yourself believe that this is real?”

  “Because good things like this don’t happen to me.”

  The hopelessness in her eyes made his chest hurt. He pulled her into his arms and held her and she pressed her cheek to his shirt. “Ever? I mean, aren’t you about due?”

  She was quiet for several seconds, then said, “I guess I never thought about it like that.”

  “I know it’s tough, Maggie, but you’ve got to have a little faith. You have to trust your feelings, and you have to trust me.”