by AJ Matthews
It’s one meal. After tonight, I’ll pack, break my lease, and move home to Daddy’s. Change my phone number and cut all ties.
Hmmm. It’s an awful lot of trouble to avoid the person I want to spend time with the most.
I still can’t forget the last thing we almost said to each other in Florida—and I’m positive he was going to tell me he loved me too.
Stars swirl around my head every time I think of him, and when I turned to find him behind me . . .
The shock about bowled me over.
I think Mama tried to send me a message from heaven when Shay asked me out. A moment after he asked, as I shook my head no, the music from the coffee shop answered the question on repeat in my head: should I say yes?
Fleetwood Mac’s “Over my Head.”
So I agreed.
Seriously though, this is the end.
My boobs get cut out soon, and I can only focus on my recovery and spending time with Jen. She’s better after completing this round of chemo. Time for us to do those sisterly things we love: eat and shop.
Shay can’t take too much time for me anyway. Medical school. The one here is top in the state, renowned throughout the country, and he needs to devote his time to studying, and the internship, if he gets it.
One date will be harmless. Then we’re done. I’ll make that clear tonight.
Leesh comes bounding into the lobby, chattering when she’s still ten feet away from me, but her voice turns to white noise.
“Thea, did you hear me? I swear the hot boy from vacation was wandering around campus the other day. I must be mistaken, but Shay’s legs were memorable, and his ass was impressive if I remember correctly.”
She hushes when I shoot her the side eye.
Leesh vividly remembers the last day in Key West, how much I hurt. We hadn’t talked about it since, but my avoidance of the subject signaled the depths of my pain. The other things I don’t want to discuss are Mama’s death and Jen’s illness.
Unless you’ve watched someone you love wither and pass right before your eyes, you can’t understand. I pray every day for Jen’s recovery. I can’t lose her too, and those precious babies of hers need their mama.
While Bennie and Leesh have suffered break-ups, I think they understand how profound this one was for me. The last one before M-day. Once the boobs are gone, things can never be the same.
I’d thought it wouldn’t matter. My breasts don’t define me, but I fell for a guy who adores them.
My asshole ex-brother-in-law had the gall to tell my sister, when she found a lump, that if she got her “tit cut off she wouldn’t be a real woman.” He hinted he would leave her. She opted out of the mastectomy, and when she got sicker and sicker through her treatment, he walked away.
No one will dictate what I should or shouldn’t do with my body, and I am not putting off life-saving surgery for the sake of any guy.
I’d known Shay for a short time, but he didn’t strike me as just “any guy.” He’s one of the good ones.
Exceptional, even.
Still doesn’t change what I need to do.
Want to do, I remind myself.
The constant clacking of trays sliding together in the cafeteria line and the lively chatter do nothing to distract me from him. I pick a pre-packaged salad from the cold case and grab a plastic bottle of pop.
We sit at a small table by the window, and I rip the sticker off the flimsy packaging and dig in. Well, not exactly.
Leesh clears her throat. “What’s wrong with you? You never get rabbit food, and you’re not even eating the yummy stuff.”
I push the turkey, ham, and croutons around with my fork.
I set the cutlery on the tray. “Sweetie, I’m sorry. I’m not all here. I had an unsettling encounter today. Unexpected.”
Leesh sets the fork on her plate, leans her elbows on the table and folds her hands under her chin. “Ooooh. Intrigue. Do tell.”
“It’s possible you saw Shay. He’s here.” I twirl my hand in the air.
“Here?” Her nose crinkles.
“Yes. Here on campus. In this hospital. I talked to him right before you arrived.”
“Oh. My. Gawd.” Her round green eyes grow even wider. If her hair were blond, she’d be the cartoon Rapunzel’s twin, complete with her button nose. “Go on, go on. What did he say? Is he mad you didn’t call him back?”
“He didn’t even ask. Maybe he will tonight.”
She slaps at my hand. “Shut up! Are you going out tonight? What are you wearing? How did he ask? What did you say? Tell me everything!”
I hold my hand up to defend from her rapid-fire inquiry. “Whoa, wait, hold on. One, yes. Two, no idea what I’m wearing. Three, he blurted the invitation. Four, I said okay. I was shaking my head no, but Mama encouraged me to say yes.”
She takes another bite of chicken, chewing as she studies my face. “You believe that, don’t you?”
“I do.” My friends learned not to question me on this issue. They aren’t close to their parents, and if Mama were still alive, we’d be as tight as we were when I was sixteen.
“What was the sign this time?”
“A Fleetwood Mac song. ‘Over my Head.’”
Leesh screws up her face.
“Yeah, you’ve never heard the song.” It wasn’t “Landslide” or “Don’t Stop,” the most played on the radio, which is why it was weird to hear in the coffee shop.
“Okay, I’ll give you that one. I at least hope it’s a happy one, not one of their depressing ones about somebody cheating or somebody’s Daddy issues or something.” She slurps the last of her drink through the red straw.
My shoulders shake with laughter. If nothing else, I can count on Leesh to keep it real.
“What time is he getting you?”
“Around seven.”
She nods, her bright red hair grazing her shoulders. “Good. I’m off at five. I’ll be there after to help with wardrobe selection. Hold on a sec.”
She pulls her phone from her purse, thumbs flying across the virtual keyboard. Within fifteen seconds, her phone is beeping back. “Excellent. My stylist is free. He’s bringing the flat iron. He’s doing this because he wants to sleep with me. Maybe I’ll let him if he makes you look fabu!”
“Wait, Miguel wants to sleep with you? I thought . . .”
“Thea, I’m shocked. Not all male hairdressers are gay.”
“I didn’t mean that. I thought he wanted to sleep with me.”
We both chuckle.
It’s fantastic to laugh again.
Like a weight lifted from my shoulders.
Like Shay had pulled it off.
My ability to end things at supper is slipping away by the second, but I don’t want to catch it and reel it back in.
I’m in deep trouble.
And I’ll drag that boy along with me.
Chapter Nine
Shay
Fate.
No other word could describe our encounter.
What else could put her in the hospital, near the elevator, at the exact moment I walked by?
The campus is massive, and we could have gone the next several years without finding one another. She’s not enrolled in classes and was only there today for lunch with her friend.
Waiting for her friend at the same elevator I needed to take for my appointment.
Fate.
Fred is floored by the news but doesn’t believe in fate. We’re men of science, he argues, and unless we can prove something, it doesn’t exist.
Thea exists though. All soft hair and smooth skin and delicious curves. She’s real, and I need to prove to her we should not stop after tonight. When I asked her out, she’d started shaking her head, but something happened, and she changed her mind.
I’m glad she did.
This day was shaping up to be spectacular. My informal interview with Dr. Sykes—more of a conversation—went well. We’d been acquainted through one of my instructors at Miami, and she’s fa
miliar with my work and interests.
They’re doing a medication study investigating the impact of ADHD medicines on kids with autism, and Dr. Sykes needs assistance with data input. Nothing hands-on, at least not yet, but I must start somewhere.
Now dinner. I’m clueless about where to take her since I’m new to town and still unfamiliar with the decent eateries.
The threatening storm has passed, and the late afternoon sun warms my face as I sit on the balcony with my laptop to find a place to eat. An inexpensive place since my savings need to hold until after my loan disbursements.
I’d go broke to make Thea smile though.
Mexican is good. It’s not expensive, and she’d ordered nachos at Paddy’s. The time in Key West seems like a lifetime ago though it hasn’t been two months yet. I’ve missed her every day since the morning we said goodbye, and she turned away from me. The goodbye kiss splintered my heart, and all I wanted to do was run back to her and ask her to take me wherever she was going.
I’d slogged through high school and undergrad to get into medical school, and as fate—yes, Fred, fate—would have it, she’s within my reach again. This is meant to be, but I must convince her.
I jump up and go inside to scan my closet, happy I’d listened to Mom and bought pants to replace the shorts I wore year-round in Florida.
Since I bought several pairs of khakis and other casual pants, I’ll at least be presentable while tripping over my tongue, and hopefully falling into her.
I’d be satisfied, though, with a long, slow kiss good night on her doorstep.
I do know, though, I’ll never give her another goodbye kiss ever again.
She’s stuck with me whether she wants to be or not.
I hope she doesn’t take much convincing.
Thea
“I admit, Leesh, this is outstanding.” I twirl in front of the full-length mirror attached to the back of my bedroom door. The black-and-white patterned wrap dress accentuates my nipped-in waist, and while the dress doesn’t minimize my chest, it doesn’t call undue attention to it, either. Which is fine because the only person I want looking is Shay.
The teardrop earrings highlight my face, and Miguel worked miracles taming my hair with his multitude of sprays, brushes, and the flat iron.
I hardly ever take the time the time to straighten my hair. While I like my natural curls, I’m crushing on this sleek style, pulled back on one side, and falling across the other shoulder.
As soon as I wash my hair, the curls will bounce back, but I’ll enjoy this while I can.
Leesh beams, proud of her handiwork.
I sweep on mascara and lipstick. A sharp rap at the door startles me, and I have to wipe off the lipstick smudged by my jerking hand.
6:55 p.m.
Of course, he’s early.
“I got this!” Leesh calls back as she walks to the door. “You make an entrance when I call you.”
I sigh. I hate doing this, but she took two hours of her time to help me get ready, even though I would never have taken two hours on my own.
“Thea, honey! Yoo-hooo! Your date’s here.”
Must she be so embarrassing?
I slide on my dressy flats and glide—at least I try to glide—to the living room.
Shay stands in the entry hall, and my breath catches. He’s not as dressed up as earlier, when he was dead sexy in his suit and tie, but tonight he’s . . . wow. He’s wearing a dark green shirt, and khaki pants hug the solid muscles of his legs.
I swallow, remembering what’s underneath the clothes, and a wave of electric desire surges through me, urging me forward.
Makes me want to kick my friends out so I can rip Shay’s clothes off.
I take a breath to soothe my overwrought libido.
“Hi.” His smile is shy like the first night we met. Funny, since we’ve seen each other naked from different angles, and he looked fantastic from all of them.
My face heats at my thoughts, and from his attention.
If we don’t get out soon, his clothes will still look good.
In a pile on my bedroom floor.
“Shall we?” I usher Leesh and Miguel out the door. Shay and I follow, and I lock the door behind us.
I spot his hybrid in the drive, and he opens the door for me. Chivalry is not dead.
The radio’s tuned to a classic rock station, but he offers me control of the music. That song starts playing again. I change the station.
I got this, Mama.
I can handle my dates on my own. Especially this one. I handled him exceptionally in Key West.
Except for the ending part. I’m no good at endings.
I think I shouldn’t try to end this. This could be the chance for a fresh beginning.
Which means being honest with him about everything. Not tonight though. Tomorrow or Sunday.
Honesty could result in loss, and I’m not prepared to lose him yet.
He puts the car in gear and flashes his stunning grin.
I like the view from the front too much to watch him walk away.
Shay
She’s so beautiful she makes my heart hurt. I never thought I’d connect with anyone this way. After high school, I’d kind of sworn off serious stuff, spurred by my growing knowledge about the genetic links in mood disorders. Would I develop depression as severe as Rose’s someday? Would I pass the disposition to my children?
I don’t want to hurt anyone to the same degree. Rose had broken everyone’s hearts, but she shattered Da’s soul, and I never wanted to give anyone the ability to hurt me like that. Or hurt anyone like that myself.
It must’ve sucked for him to discover the woman he’d trusted with his heart was such a monster.
Not a monster, I remind myself. Sick.
She’s the reason I got into medicine.
That, and the time when Mac “forgot” how to swim and almost drowned. He was ten, but the signs of depression had been creeping up on him for a couple years. Some of his autistic behaviors masked the mood disorder, and it was life-changing when Mac got a correct diagnosis.
When I become a neuropsychiatrist, I can search for better and earlier treatments for mood disorders like the ones haunting my family, and even help with autism treatments too.
I glance at Thea across the table and think I couldn’t ask for anyone better to be with me on this path.
I’m jumping way ahead of myself, but Da’s always said, “Ye’ll know when ye know.” And today I know.
Thea dips another chip in the spicy salsa and takes a sip of her enormous frozen margarita. A drop of sauce sticks to her lip, and I reach across to swipe it as she licks at it. Her tongue scalds my skin.
I jerk my hand back as the fire trails from my fingertip straight to my penis, which jumps in response. At least the table hides evidence of my excitement.
Thea startles at the contact but smiles as she dabs at her lip with the bright white cloth napkin.
“Did I get it?”
I lean in for a closer examination, wanting to be near her.
Her clear blue eyes gaze into mine, and I hope to find one message there: Let’s get out of here so we can be alone.
Her expression is vague, though, and I wonder what she’s thinking when the waiter brings our entrées out.
The waiter hasn’t even set my sizzling plate of fajitas in front of me before Thea digs into her cheese enchilada. She discovers me watching her, and her eyes widen.
“Oh God, I’m sorry! How rude of me. I’m hungry since I didn’t eat lunch.”
“But you met Leesh at the hospital. . .”
“I did—but didn’t eat much.”
Which is unusual for her. She confessed in Florida she loves food and is not ashamed to eat a lot, on occasion.
She’d worried her love of food was catching up with her, and her “freshman fifteen” still lingered years later. What I see is a healthy, glowing woman with a wonderful body.
She should be proud.
Because
I’m proud to be by her side.
From the way other guys stared at her when we walked in, any of them would take my place.
Not a chance.
I talk and talk. A sense of calm blankets me, and the tension of the past few weeks melts away in her soothing presence. I’m like a conversational superhero, making her smile and laugh at my stories about my road trip up I-95 with Fred.
His obsession with germs will make him a terrific surgeon, but it makes for a comically long drive on a highway littered with truck stops and unsanitary bathrooms.
The mariachi band is playing an upbeat tune as I pay the check, and we head out the door. I rest my palm on the small of her back as we walk to the door. She relaxes into my hand, and I’m thrilled she still enjoys my touch.
“Can we go dancing?” she asks out of the blue. Her eyes shine, and she bites her lip. “Do you dance?”
I rub the back of my neck and shake my head. “Oh no. My brother Liam is the one with the moves. I’ll break your toes.”
Her face falls, and I suck in my gut, her disappointment kicking me hard.
“I can slow dance though.” If dancing is holding on and swaying.
“Mmmmm, sounds nice.” Her crooked smile sneaks to her lips and my stomach flops. “Shay, I’m sorry I never called you back and lied about what I was doing earlier today. Since I left Key West, I’ve been . . . out of sorts. I never expected—”
“No apologies needed. I’m not sure what I expected would happen, with you home and me away at med school. We didn’t know they were one and the same. Now everything is perfect.”
Her smile fades. I want to put the smile back on her face, so I start up the car and head to a place we passed earlier.
“Where to?”
“You’ll see.”
“Oh, another Seamus Kelly surprise?”
“Or something.”
“Do I need to change? Most of your surprises involve a change of clothes, or should.”
We’re stopped at a light, so I assess her from head to toe. She looks amazing.
She’d be splendid naked, but we should take it slow, as much as it’s going to kill me.
“Nah, you’re fine,” I assure her, but think she might be ticked at me later when she’s bowling in a dress.
