Deepest Scars: A Being Me Stand-Alone Companion Novel

by Tricia Copeland

  Hand on her hip, she looks down her nose at me. “What have you been up to? Messing around with some girl, no doubt.”

  “Me? No.” I play it up. “But seriously.” I prop my elbow on the counter. “I’ve got a girlfriend now, and she’d like some reassurances…”

  “Fine.” Gina lifts her glasses to her eyes. “Come on. It’s quiet this early anyway.”

  Inside the blood draw room, I take a seat, roll up my sleeve, and pump my fist a couple of times.

  Gina sits across from me. “Do this a lot?”

  “I got a position with the D-backs, so yes.”

  “No way. Congrats. So, I won’t see you around?”

  “Not after mid-February.”

  She tightens a rubber strip around my arm. “Well, you better be nice to this girl.”

  “I will.”

  As soon as the blood is drawn, and she releases the tourniquet, I jump out of the chair. “You’ll call me when the results are in?”

  “Just a minute. I’ve got to scan your ID badge.”

  “Fine.” I hold up the card. She scans it and then types on her keyboard.

  “Only about an hour.” She lifts her glasses off her nose.

  “Thanks, Gina,” I call as I walk away.

  As promised, the results are in within the hour. They are clean, as I expected, and my tension level rises as I realize I should plan something special for Liz. I spend the day brainstorming ideas in my head between clients. After work, I down a protein bar and meet Mitchell and some other guys for basketball.

  Liz and I text a couple times during the day, but I don’t want to tell her about the blood test over the phone. Plus, I don’t want to seem too eager to get in her pants.

  “Where are you, dude?” Mitchell’s voice brings me out of my thoughts.

  “Sorry.” I refocus on the game.

  We play for a couple of hours, and Mitchell asks me to join them for beers. I slide my phone from my pocket. “Maybe another time.”

  “You’re so whipped.” He shakes his head.

  “She got back in town last night. I’ve barely seen her.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you a week to be a wuss.” He pops me with his towel.

  I decide to wait till Wednesday night to tell Liz I’ve completed the blood test. It isn’t an official practice, but John seems relentless in the pursuit of volleyball excellence. After the scrimmage, we grab a beer with Jeff, Isabelle, Cody, Beth Anne, and John. I bring it up on the drive to her place afterwards.

  Wrapping my hand around hers, I start. “So, I got that blood test thing done, and I’m clean.”

  “Blood test thing? That was fast.”

  I wish I could see her face to gauge her reaction. “Yeah, I guess, I mean, we have it at work so…” I raise my fingers from the steering wheel and wrap them around again. “I wasn’t meaning it had to be tonight.”

  “Yeah, I am wiped. Do you mind dropping me off?”

  I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it. “It’s going to kill me, but no.”

  At home, my bed seems too big without her, but I drift off despite circling thoughts. The next morning, I’m determined to come up with a plan for New Year’s Eve. We got enough heat from friends about being anti-social, so I feel like this needs to be special. My shift ends at three thirty, and I head to the decorating store.

  “Can I help you?” a short female clerk asks me as I pace in the lights section.

  “I need some of those twinkle lights.”

  “For outside or inside?”

  “Inside.”

  “These are the coolest.” She hands me some tiny ones that read shimmer on the package.

  “Okay, I need ten strands.”

  “Are you proposing or something?”

  “No, what, no? It’s New Year’s Eve.”

  “Oh, okay, anything else?”

  I hand over my list, and she leads me around the store. We fill my basket with way too much stuff, but I figure Liz is worth it.

  “Your girlfriend is really lucky,” the girl notes as she swipes the items over the scanner.

  “She’s pretty awesome, so…” I stuff my hands in my pockets, waiting for the total.

  Next, I head to the flower shop and put in my order. Then, I head to the grocery to scout out dinner ideas. Phoenix is kind of landlocked, so I don’t always trust the fish situation.

  My phone dings as I pick out two chicken breasts for dinner.

  HEY, DONE WITH WORK, EXHAUSTED. WANT TO GET DINNER AND WATCH A SHOW?

  SOUNDS PERFECT. I’LL GET DINNER AND COOK. YOUR PLACE OR MINE?

  Friday is a cookie cutter of Thursday, and I feel good about my stealth planning. Saturday, I tell her I’m playing basketball with the guys after our run and workout.

  “Did we decide what we were doing tonight?” she asks as we reach our cars.

  “I thought making dinner and watching a movie or the ball drop or something. I can pick up some food. Want to come to my place?”

  “Sure.” She smiles and kisses me. “Sounds perfect.”

  I wonder if I’m going too anti-social for her. But I still do most of the stuff I’d done with my friends before, save the evening hangouts. It doesn’t matter, though. She makes me happy, and I know I love her. She makes me feel like no other girlfriend has, like family and home.

  Swinging by the florist, I head home. After a shower, I arrange the room, hanging the lights. I shut all the curtains to take in the look and am impressed. The clerk was right about the light selection. Next, I move the couch and lug the table into the living room. Then, I get out the tablecloth, iron it, and set the table. I prep the food and set the champagne in an ice bucket. I’m probably three hundred dollars in for the night, but I figure I’d have spent that much if we went out. Besides, she’s worth it, and I want to make sure she knows I think she’s important.

  When the bell rings, I’ve just taken the steaks off the grill. I turn off the kitchen light and head to the door.

  Liz is dressed in a stunning sleeveless red dress that hugs her frame.

  “Hola, buenos noches. You look amazing.” I slide out the door and close it behind me, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her.

  “Buenos noches, feliz ano nuevo,” she replies. “What’s with being out here?”

  “Ah. I lift a finger, it’s not New Year’s yet. Don’t jinx it.” I pull a scarf out of my back pocket and hold it up. “This is for you?”

  “A little kinky, don’t you think?”

  “What? No. Come on. It’s a surprise.”

  She spins around, and I fit the fabric over her eyes. “Okay, there’s a step up into my apartment. Just hold onto my arm.”

  Her fingers wind around my bicep, and I take a deep breath. I slip inside ahead of her, so I can see her face.

  “Okay, you can look now.” I lower the blindfold from her eyes.

  Gazing first to the ceiling covered in small lights and then to the table and flowers lining the room, her face transforms from awe to joy.

  “It’s beautiful.” Tears swell in her eyelids. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

  “It had to be special.”

  “How much money did you spend?”

  “Why did I know you would ask that? Just the right amount.” I hand her a champagne flute. “Shall we have a toast?”

  “Most definitely.” She sets her bag beside the wall and joins me.

  I pop the champagne cork, and she jumps. “This is so beautiful. I’m speechless.”

  “Know the best part?”

  “What?”

  “It’s just us.” I fill her glass and then mine and lift it in the air. “To us and a great new year.”

  “To an amazing new year.” She clinks her glass to mine.

  I take the glasses and set them on the table. “I hope you’re hungry. I have lots of food.”

  “I’m starving.” She rubs her hands together and moves towards the kitchen.

  “Ummm, nope.” I squeeze her arm, halting
her progress. “You sit.”

  She rolls her eyes but obeys. I slip into the kitchen to get the first course of French Onion soup. Melting the cheese on the top with my new brazing tool, I carry them into the living room.

  “Is this?” She points to the small bowls.

  “French Onion.”

  We sip the soup, and her eyes scan the room. “I can’t believe you got this many white roses. It looks magical.”

  I stretch my arm to one vase and pull out a rose. “For you.”

  She sniffs it and slides it in the bud vase at the center of the table. We talk about the success of my covert shopping trips, and then I head to the kitchen for the next course of Alfredo pasta and bread.

  “Parmesan cheese?” I ask, holding a wedge in front of her.

  “Definitely.” She smiles and nods as I shave off some onto her dish.

  Sitting down, I can’t believe I really pulled this off so perfectly. But I’d been up till two the night before planning out all the food.

  We sip our champagne and talk about the past year.

  “Okay, the best course.” I stand and take the pasta bowls. Next, I bring in the steaks and sauce.

  Liz cuts a bite of the meat. “Wow, I’m glad I only took a few bites of everything. This looks amazing. And you made so much!”

  The flavor is as good as I hoped, and I savor every bite and minute of the experience with her. Then, I retrieve the salads from the refrigerator.

  “I’m not going to have room for dessert.” She sets her fork down after a few bites.

  “Dessert? I thought you were bringing the dessert?”

  Her eyes widen. “What?”

  “Sorry, just kidding.” I wink at her.

  “Maybe we can do some dancing before the last course.” I reach my hand out, and she takes it.

  Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her to the stereo. I find the “Just the Way You Are” Bruno Mars song and start the music. She fits her arms around my waist and nuzzles her face into my chest. I kiss the top of her head and rest my cheek on her hair. Nothing could be more perfect. The way she fits into me, almost seamlessly, like we were meant to be, like the gods fated us to meet.

  The songs drift into each other. I spin her out and back to me and dip her over and kiss her.

  “I’m getting dizzy.” She laughs her caroling laugh, and I lead her back to the table, filling her water glass. “This is amazing. I can’t believe it still.” She sips her drink. “When did you plan this?”

  “You’re giving me way too much credit. It was a few days ago.”

  “Did Isabelle or Eva help you?”

  “No, just Charity.”

  “Charity?”

  “The girl at the decorating store.”

  “Oh, okay, wow. I didn’t know you were so close with a decorator.”

  “She took pity on me. Dessert?”

  “Sure. Can I help?”

  “Nope.” I jump up and make my way to the kitchen. Winding back to the living room, I hold out the tray of desserts. “I did cheat on these.”

  “Miniature cheesecakes?” She takes one, and I sit down and find the lemon one. My phone beeps, and I jump up. “It’s almost time for the replayed ball drop in New York.”

  I offer my hand and lead her over to the side of the room. I’ve fit pillows along the wall opposite the television. She takes her shoes off and folds her feet under her legs. Sitting beside her, I slide my arm around her. We find the channel and listen to the announcer crack jokes, watch as they pan the crowd with the camera, and then start the countdown. We stand up as they get to ten, counting down to one.

  Turning to face her, I whisper, “Happy New Year.”

  “Happy New Year.” Her smile reaches across her face, and her eyes seem to glimmer.

  I lock her in my arms, plant a huge kiss on her lips, and then trace kisses down her neck to her shoulder.

  “I’m in so much trouble.” She locks her hands behind my neck.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I like you.”

  I let out a long breath and exaggerate wiping my brow. “That’s a good thing.”

  She flings her head back and laughs. “Yes, I think I found a good guy.”

  “You did.” I swirl her around and back her to the sound system. I cut off the TV and find “You and Me” on the audio system. I hug her tight to me as we spin around the room. I want to tell her, wonder if I should say those three words. Valentine’s, I remind myself again. Four months is too soon and the ramblings of a crazy person.

  This time I’m feeling light-headed after three songs. I squeeze her ribs, pick her up, and spin her around. I stop when her face starts to go white.

  “Okay, next part of the evening.” I set her beside the table.

  She sits in her seat and takes a sip of water. “And what is that?”

  “Fun conversation, maybe a game, say trivia or Monopoly.”

  “Really, you own those?”

  “I bought them, you know, for tomorrow, when we don’t want to leave the house.”

  “I’m not going to want to leave tomorrow?”

  “Just a prediction. Right now, I never want to leave your side.”

  We talk about the new year and what we’d like to do. Our lists are similar, including travel and new activities like skiing and rock climbing.

  “I think we need mountains,” I note.

  Her nose wrinkles up. “Like Colorado. It’s not far, right?”

  “Try ten hours or so.”

  “Hmm.” She set her glass on the table.

  “Should we clean the dishes? I can change.”

  “No, no.” I jump up and spread my arms, blocking her path to the kitchen. “You’re welcome to change into something more comfortable. I mean, I’m wearing jeans. And the dishes are in the water, and I can do them tomorrow. Tonight is all about relaxing fun.”

  “Okay.” She stands. “I’m going to change in your room, then.”

  She grabs her bag and closes the door behind her. I clear the table and slide the dishes into the washer, leaving the pans to soak in the sink. I move the table back to the kitchen and the sofa back in front of the television.

  “Aww.” She slips from my room. “I kind of liked our floor-picnic, television-watching spot.”

  “There’s still room.” I slide to the floor. “I’ll get a blanket.” Jumping up, I pull one from the closet. “More champagne?” I offer her a glass.

  “I think water will do. I don’t want to fall asleep before our midnight.”

  “Wait, I have to do something big again? Cause I got nothing left.”

  Her caroling giggle is music to my ears. “No, I think you made enough points tonight for the whole year.”

  “I’m good at creating these dates, right?”

  “You’re amazing.” She leans her head against my shoulder.

  We watch television for a while and then start a game of darts.

  “I need a pool table.”

  “What, so you can have a bar in your apartment? Where would you sleep?”

  “On the pool table.” I loft my dart at the board.

  “Wait.” She points at the screen. “It’s almost midnight.”

  I wrap my arms around her, and we watch as the clock counts down. At midnight, I spin her around and kiss her hard.

  “Wow.” She wipes her lips. “That was a good one.”

  “I know. We need more kissing.” I close in for another round.

  “Wait, I have sort of a family tradition thing to do here.”

  “Okay.” I move my hands to her waist.

  “Top three and worst three. We usually burn a page with our worst three.”

  “Let’s light up the grill.” I walk through the kitchen and out to the patio.

  “Do you have paper?”

  “There’s a notepad in a drawer.”

  I light the grill, and she returns with pad and pen. “We don’t have to share our worst. But I’d love to hear your top three m
oments of the year.”

  “How does this work? I say all three, or do we go three, two, one?”

  “Why don’t we start with three.”

  Sitting beside the grill, I try to think of my top three. Getting the spot on the team, the Grand Canyon trip, and our first date come to mind. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “Me, too. You first.”

  “Okay.” I roll my eyes. “Number three would be getting the spot on the team.”

  She slaps my leg. “That’s number three? Why not number one?”

  “You don’t know what else I have on my list. You haven’t known me all year.”

  “Fine.” Her eyeballs pan the ceiling and meet mine. “Number three would be graduating from nursing school. Your turn.”

  “Two is the Grand Canyon trip.”

  “Hey, you stole mine.”

  “Well, what is your number one?”

  “Our first date.”

  “That's mine, so you can’t have it.” I smile at her.

  She gives me a quick smack on the lips and holds out a sheet of paper and a pen. “Goodbye to the bad things.”

  “One to a strip for burning?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  Watching her write on her page, I think of Amanda. The whole incident with her seems like a bad memory. I scribble A and throw it in the flames.

  Liz crumples her sheet and throws it in the fire. “See, out with the bad and in with the good. I should cook a traditional Puerto Rican meal tomorrow. Maybe we could have some friends over.”

  “That sounds fun. I love Puerto Rican food. Doug’s mom cooks a big spread every New Year’s Day.”

  “Doug is Puerto Rican?” Liz spins to face me.

  “Half. His dad is from Virginia. American as you can get.”

  “I don’t really want a whole pig cooking in my kitchen.” Laughing, she shakes her head. “That would be something.”

  “Enough seriousness?” I stand and stretch my hand out to her.

  She takes it and bounces up. I kill the gas on the grill, and we go inside.

  “What now?” I take her hand and spin her under my arm. “More dancing?”

  “I’d like that.” She wraps her arm around my shoulder.

  I find a station with slow tunes and fold my arms around her. We sway to the music.