Falling Into Infinity

by Layne Harper

  My father admonishes him, “Inappropriate Brad.”

  I give Brad a wink as he shuts my door.

  “Caroline, I think that it would be good for the practice if you joined me as my date. The top athletes in the football world will be there to honor Clay. It will be wonderful networking for you,” he concludes.

  I agree that it does sound like a good opportunity for me. I would ultimately like to do what Dad does and just work with professional athletes exclusively. “When is it?”

  “Saturday,” he replies. “It’s in Los Angeles. I’ll have Brad book your ticket.”

  “Saturday, as in, four days from now?” I ask incredulously.

  “That would be the one,” he says without a hint of humor in his voice.

  “Dad, I have nothing to wear. Ugh! Why are you just now telling me about it?” I ask suspiciously.

  “Take Brad shopping with you. Buy whatever you need and expense it to the practice,” he says, obviously bored with the details.

  “You didn’t answer the question. Why am I just now hearing about this?” I ask again.

  “I suspect that Colin McKinney is on the guest list. I don’t know if he is attending,” he says this as if that explains everything. “You can’t avoid him forever, Caroline.”

  “Dad, I am not avoiding him. I just haven’t had the opportunity to attend a function that he is also attending,” I explain. He doesn’t have to know that I have Brad call before I RSVP to any event that Colin might be at to check to see if he is on the guest list. If he is, I politely decline. It’s been eight years since I last saw Colin. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve seen him in magazines, websites and on TV. I have followed his career because you would have to be blind or deaf to miss him. I had a panic attack the first time that I saw his underwear campaign. The man that I had been crazy in love with was blown up ten stories on the side of a building with nothing on but his tighty-whiteys, which I know for a fact that he didn’t wear. I gasped, felt sick to my stomach, and I avoided that part of town until I was sure that the ad had been replaced.

  “I love you, Caroline. Don’t over think this. You are a very accomplished young lady and doctor. You need to hold your head high. You are the new face of our practice. This is your time.” He stands up and walks out of my office. As soon as my door shuts, I start doing some serious breathing exercises. I finish the rest of my coffee and try to compose myself for my first patient of the day. I vow not to think about Colin again.

  First, though, I pull out my phone and message Rachael.

  Me: Colin.Fucking.McKinney

  There is no need to say more. Rachael will get the meaning.

  Rachael: I need details. I’ll call you on my way home.

  Fortunately, the rest of my morning goes much more smoothly. Patients are on time. They don’t try to make idle chitchat with me. By 1:00, I am on such a roll that I hate to break for lunch.

  Brad is waiting for me. “Where shall we eat today, my Lady?”

  “Well kind Sir, I was thinking about just going down to the building deli.”

  Brad makes a face. “I was hoping for somewhere amazing.”

  “Sorry, Brad. You keep my schedule. If you want to go somewhere amazing, keep appointments from slamming me,” I admonish.

  “That’s a deal, Caroline,” he smirks at me.

  My after lunch appointments have been just as awesome as the before lunch patients. Ask any doctor, and they’ll tell you that this is generally how their day will go. In medicine, you either have a kick ass day or a day that kicks your ass. Today, we are kick ass. I even had one patient who was very nice looking ask if I was single. I have a rule against dating patients, but it’s always nice to have a gorgeous guy show some interest.

  Brad hands me the last chart of the day. He starts messing with my hair, flipping it over one shoulder, and pinches my cheeks. He smiles at me and says, “Go get’em, Tiger.”

  I have completed my marathon day. I walk out of the exam room and hand Brad my notes sheet and collapse in my office. Brad follows in behind me.

  “I’ve taken the liberty to schedule you dress fittings at three luxury department stores. Our first appointment is in an hour,” he informs me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Your dad said that you need a formal gown for the dinner on Saturday. He left me with such short notice that we are going to have to buy off the rack,” he says making a face. “Come, Doctor Collins. Let’s see what Neiman Marcus has to show us.”

  I roll my eyes. “Brad, you know my size. Can’t you just grab me something? Plus, I have the fundraiser tonight.”

  “No. I need to see you in them, and I already put a generous check in the mail to the charity with your apology note,” he states firmly.

  “Brad, how much do you love me?” I ask.

  “I love you enough to make sure you look so hot that every man there goes home and takes a cold shower,” he gushes.

  “Fine. I’ll go tonight. That’s it. You are picking something. Then, you are taking me to eat sushi and drink sake. Got it?”

  “Got it, Doctor Collins. This is going to be so much fun,” he exclaims, clapping his hands.

  I’ve tried on every bloody beaded gown in the store. Brad is fussing over me. He can’t make up his mind. The sales associate, sensing a big commission, is passing out white wine like water. Brad has it narrowed down to a full-length ivory halter, beaded gown with a slit that is so high that I am sure my panties will show. The other dress is also full length. It’s a shade of light aqua, strapless, also with a slit, but it shows a little less leg.

  Brad is wailing about how he likes the cut of the ivory, but the aqua is a better color me. Another sales associate scurries off to pull the accessories for both looks.

  I go back into the dressing room and change into my work clothes. I check my phone. No missed calls. I note that I really need to make more friends than just Brad. I’m tired and hungry. I can’t take this nonsense any longer. It’s just one stupid dinner. I am not being buried in this dress.

  When I walk out, Brad is discussing my dress options with the sales associate. “She has such great shoulders and both dresses really show them off.”

  “We’ll take the aqua,” I say.

  “Really, Caroline? It’s a little conservative,” he suggests.

  “We’ll take the ivory, then,” I say.

  “I don’t know. I’m worried about that slit,” he counters.

  “Brad, if you value our friendship and your job, pick one,” I almost scream at him.

  “She’ll take the aqua,” he says to the sales associate.

  My little red convertible is loaded with the dress, shoes, bag, and jewelry. “How am I going to get all of this to Los Angeles?” I ask Brad.

  “I’m shipping it tomorrow,” he says.

  I should have known that he would have the perfect solution. He really is amazing.

  After Brad and I are halfway through our first bottle of sake, I tell him that Colin might be at the dinner.

  Brad gives me his signature raised eyebrow. “And you’re going?”

  Brad doesn’t know the whole Colin saga. He knows that I dated him in college, and then we broke up. He knows that Rachael and I now refer to him only as Colin.Fucking.McKinney. He also knows that I am avoiding him.

  “My dad didn’t give me a choice. Plus, if I want to play with the big boys in the professional athlete arena, I am going to have to see him,” I explain.

  “Look Caroline. I don’t know what went on between you two, but it’s been eight years. People grow up. They change. Maybe it would be good to see him and realize that you’ve both moved on,” he reasons.

  That’s just it though. Have I moved on? I haven’t had a serious relationship with a man since Colin. It’s not that I don’t get asked on dates. But no one has intrigued me enough to make it past two or three dates and attain the boyfriend title. There was one guy during medical school and residency, but he liked me significantly more than I li
ked him. In hindsight, he probably thought we were dating. I was just passing the time. Sure, I graduated from Harvard and my career has shot through the roof. Personally though, I don’t have many friends and no guys that I want to date. Rachael told me once that there is no settling for second best when you’ve had The Statement. I am secretly scared that she is right.

  “You’re right, Brad. I know you are. If he’s there, he’s there,” I concede, wishing that I felt as confident inside.

  Soon our table is filled with sushi rolls. Brad reminds me before we start, that I have to rock the dress on Saturday so I shouldn’t eat too much. He doesn’t know about my past struggles with my eating disorder. If he did, he would be horrified that he just said that.

  By the time dinner is over, I am completely sated. I drop Brad off at his home and head to my townhome in the museum district. Even though it’s brand new, it has fabulous old world charm. The wall the fireplace is located on is antique brick. I chose either antique or antique replica lighting. My furniture is neutral colored with pops of primary colors. Instead of traditional granite, I chose Carrera marble. My cabinets are antiqued black. The first floor is my garage and guest room. My second story is open concept. There are no interior walls. I love how spacious it is. My third floor is my master bedroom and bathroom. I love my townhome. I decorated it, and it looks just like me. This is my refuge. I carry myself upstairs and crawl into bed. As I fall asleep, I reflect on my life. I have everything that I wanted for myself, but I have no one to share it with. I’m so busy that I can’t even get a dog. My sisters have encouraged me to join a singles’ group. I might look into it when I get back from Los Angeles. I’m lonely, and it sucks! I get up and take a sleeping pill. I’ve gotten myself worked up, and 6:15 comes very early at my house.

  Chapter 2

  BRAD DROPPED my dad and me at the airport Friday afternoon. He reassured me that my dress and accessories would be waiting for at the hotel when we check in. He came over last night to pack my suitcase for me while we watched reruns of “Sex and the City” and ate Chinese food. I was really thankful that he offered. If left to my own devices I would have packed a pair of jeans, two shirts, pajamas, and running clothes. Instead, I have a suitcase filled with Los Angeles appropriate attire.

  My hair instantly rebels when I step off the plane at LAX. Thankfully, Brad made an appointment for me at a salon that one of his friends recommended. When I protested, he reminded me that Colin might be at the dinner. Then he told me that I wanted to look as fabulous as I could. I knew he was right, but I hated being fussed over.

  Dad and I are staying in the same hotel that is hosting the dinner. Sure enough, when we check in, I am informed that a package will be brought to my room shortly. I quickly send Brad a text thanking him.

  However, we are also informed upon check-in that there is a reception that evening for out of town guests. I quickly ask what the dress code is. I’m told that it’s casual.

  As soon as I walk into my hotel room, I call Brad. “Help me out here. What do I wear for a casual reception?”

  “Thank goodness I packed for you. If I hadn’t, you would have been in running shorts and a tank top.” Brad likes nothing more than reminding me how much I need him.

  “You are a rock star, Brad. Tell me what to wear,” I can stroke his ego if it gets me what I want.

  “I packed you a sleeveless lavender dress. Pair it with your silver, high-heeled sandals. Blow-dry your hair with soft waves. Put on makeup, but not too much. You want to look effortlessly fabulous,” he instructs.

  “Thanks! You are a life saver.” I hang up with him and start the process to look effortlessly beautiful.

  At 6:00 on the dot, my dad is knocking on my door. I grab my phone and room key and slip them into a small purse that Brad packed for me. I really need to get him a great thank you gift while I am here.

  My dad looks stunning. For a man who is almost sixty, he is really dashing. I inherited my light olive complexion and lavender eyes from him. He’s about six feet tall with a full head of salt and pepper hair and his build is slender, like mine. He has on a white, very expensive looking golf shirt and pressed khaki pants. The Rolex he’s wearing really helps sell the doctor image.

  We don’t say much to each other. I have butterflies in my stomach. I am comfortable with networking so it must be the prospect of Colin being there. I almost hope that he is at the reception so I can get seeing him over with. Ideally, I hope that I can make it one more event without running in to him. I’m not even sure what I would say. What if he doesn’t remember me? It’s been eight years. I’m sure that our relationship has been chalked up to nothing more than puppy love in his mind.

  The doors of the elevator open, and just as I step off, I remember that I left my business cards in my other purse. “Dad, I need to run back up to the room. I’ll be back in a second.”

  I silently reproach myself. Here I am coming along to network for our practice, and I leave my business cards in the room. Not smart Caroline.

  Fortunately, they are right where I left them. I stick them in the small purse and do one last appearance check in the full length mirror in my hotel room.

  I walk to the bank of elevators and wait impatiently for mine to arrive. I know that my dad is waiting on me, and he hates to be kept waiting.

  I hear the ding of the elevator behind me and turn around to get on.

  My heart falls into my stomach. My eyes grow wide with shock. The last time I saw him in person was when he was walking out of my life for good. He’s standing there. Colin.Fucking.McKinney. I quickly gasp. He looks just as surprised as I feel.

  “Hello, Charlie. It’s been a very long time,” he says. Well, I guess he remembers me. He is just as gorgeous as he was at twenty-two. He’s more muscular. His wavy, dirty blonde hair is now shorter and darker. His clear green eyes are still just as hypnotizing. He doesn’t necessarily have wrinkles around his eyes. They just look more knowing. He’s still a beautifully perfect mission statement.

  I am stunned to see him. I just stand there as if I am glued to the floor looking like a damn fool. I had thought of this happening over the years, but it was always in a more open place and not an elevator. Our eyes would lock across a room filled with people. We would say a few polite things to each other. I would introduce him to my wonderful husband who cured cancer. Colin would give me a kiss on the cheek and tell me how nice it was to see me again, and my gorgeous husband would then take me home, and we would have crazy sex reaffirming that my life turned out like it should have.

  Instead, I am very successful professionally, but haven’t had sex with anyone besides myself in over two years.

  “Are you going to get on the elevator?” he asks, flashing me his half smile.

  “S…S….Sure,” I stammer.

  I step on the elevator and the doors shut.

  “It’s Caroline. I don’t go by Charlie any longer,” I find myself saying. I am amazed that I can speak.

  “That’s a shame. I always thought Charlie was a great nickname for you. By the way, I love your lavender dress,” he says with his same jovial deep voice.

  I am facing forward. I can feel him behind me. My body recognizes him instantly. My body wants to touch him. It wants to hold his hand, or touch his thigh that only seems to have gotten more muscular. I feel the tingling rush of electricity go through my body. My mind quickly tries to reason with my body that we no longer know him, and remind myself that nothing has changed. He’s still a professional quarterback and has even more baggage than before. I plead with the elevator to go faster.

  “I assume you are here for the Clay South event,” he says.

  His voice is just how I remember it. I love how deep and masculine it is with its hint of lightheartedness. God, I just thought that, I tell myself. Get it together, Caroline.

  “Yes,” I respond without turning around.

  The doors of the elevator open, and I race off. Thankfully, my dad is waiting for me. I see him s
miling at me. My heart floods with love for that man. Then, I realize that he is not smiling at me. He’s smiling at Colin who is walking behind me.

  “Hello Colin. How nice to see you again.” He beams at my ex-boyfriend, shaking his hand.

  “Doctor Collins. It’s been a long time. I guess that’s good in my line of work,” Colin laughs but it’s strained. Maybe time doesn’t forgive and forget.

  “Yes. I guess it is. I have enjoyed following your career. You’re one hell of a quarterback.” My dad slaps Colin gently on the arm. “You know Caroline is practicing with me.”

  I realize that Colin is still standing behind me. I turn and orient myself more appropriately into the conversation circle. This is so awkward.

  “Is that so, Charlie, I mean Caroline,” he says.

  “Yes,” I say, completely detached from my body. “I’ve been working with my dad since I graduated from Harvard Medical School and completed my residency.”

  Fortunately, the waiter walks by offering trays of red or white wine. I quickly snag a glass of white. My dad and Colin refuse.

  “Well, it’s nice that you made your dreams come true,” he says with just a trace of bitterness in his voice. I pick up on it only because I know/knew him so well. Wow! He’s still a little hurt. That snaps me out of my zombie-like state.

  “You know me, Colin. I was always the girl who knew exactly what she wanted,” I say, trying not to sound too bitter.

  His eyes grow wide with shock. I really like that I can still shock him. I realize he thinks that I am talking about in the bedroom.

  “Excuse me, Caroline and Colin. I see someone who I need to say hello to,” my dad says, excusing himself.

  As soon as my dad is out of earshot, Colin says, “Eight years and you couldn’t contact me, Charlie. That hurt.” I can see the anger in his eyes.

  “As you would say to me, eight years and you couldn’t contact me, Colin,” I reply, mirroring his look. The tension is thick between us. I didn’t realize how hurt I still am.