by Isabel Morin
“I thought you’d have plans with Roxanne and Ginny.” She’s looking at me with concern now.
I’ve spent every New Year’s since my first year of high school with them, so it’s no wonder she assumed I’d do the same this time around. But I begged off weeks ago, and I don’t think they care all that much. We don’t have a lot in common anymore.
“I don’t feel like going to a club. But don’t worry about it. I’ll hang out here and binge-watch something.”
“I’m sure Jerry won’t mind if we skip the overpriced meal on the busiest night of the year. He hates that kind of thing anyway.”
“Don’t change your plans because of me. I’ll be fine.”
“I would much rather stay here with you. Who knows where you’ll be this time next year? Jerry will understand I want some quality time with my daughter.”
I apologize to Jerry the next time he calls the house, but he seems fine with it. He’s used to doing things my mother’s way. So on December 31st, my mom stuffs and roasts a chicken while I make a fancy salad and chocolate mousse for dessert. Then we watch a double feature of her favorite movie, When Harry Met Sally, and mine, Singin’ in the Rain. Because I’m an old woman trapped in a college girl’s body, and because it’s the happiest movie I’ve ever seen.
On January 7th, my mom drives me to Logan Airport for my flight to L.A., which is long and boring and gives me way too much time in my own head. I have my interview the next day, then fly directly to San Francisco. By the time I let myself into my hotel room I’m exhausted.
Things would have been so different if Casey and I were still friends. He’d have wanted me to call him as soon as I got here. Maybe he’d even have been waiting for me. Just knowing I was going to see him would have made everything easier.
But he doesn’t even know I’m here.
Being in a hotel room in a strange city thousands of miles from home is just another version of me alone in the library tower. And once again, Casey’s out there somewhere close by, and it was my choice not to be with him.
I close the curtains and eventually fall asleep. When my alarm wakes me the next morning, it takes me a full minute in the dark hotel room to remember where I am. But I’ve got the routine down pat now. I iron my interview pants, shirt, and blazer, pull my hair back into a neat ponytail, and put on a little makeup. Voilà, earnest and eager student ready for med school.
I’ve been thinking about what Jen and Casey said, and I realize now that my acne wasn’t the only reason I never dated. I was shy even before my skin got so bad. Having terrible acne drove me even deeper into my shell, into the safety of books and my intellect.
I retreated in the same way this past semester, so I guess not much has changed.
Which is kind of depressing.
My interview goes well enough. They ask me questions about my work at the clinic and my research, and I explain why I want to focus on internal medicine. There’s one unexpected question that has me sputtering a bit before I get my bearings and answer intelligently, so that has me a little nervous. After the interview, I get to tour the facilities, and I practically jump for joy at the robotic simulation room where students get to practice on mechanical people who display real physiological symptoms.
Back in my hotel room I change into jeans and a sweater and grab a burrito at a place close by. Then I open Google maps and find a route to Golden Gate Park a few blocks away. I fly home tomorrow morning, so I have the rest of today for sightseeing.
The sun is shining, and everything around me is new and waiting to be explored, but my thoughts turn again and again to Casey. What would he do if I called and asked him to meet for dinner? Is he so mad at me he’d turn me down?
I head up Third Street, my thighs protesting as the hill gets steeper. It’s a gorgeous street, paved in brick and lined with beautiful homes. I wouldn’t be surprised if the med school faculty lived here. It’s only three blocks to the park, but I’m huffing a bit by the time I cross Lincoln and enter the gate. Once again, I fell out of shape being at home.
I imagine myself coming here to study, or to clear my head if I’m stressed. I find the Japanese Tea House and wander through it, taking in the beautiful structures and flowers, the pond reflecting all of it back to the sky. There’s no one else around, and the quiet seeps into my consciousness, mixing with thoughts of Casey.
There are no distractions, just the breeze lifting my hair, the late afternoon sun sifting through the bonsai trees.
The truth rises up in me like water from a hidden spring, as if it were there all along.
I love him.
Of course I do.
There’s a piercing sweetness to it and a darker ache, like I found and lost him all in one breath.
I try to focus on all the things I don’t like—the girls, the way he won’t fight for what he wants—but they don’t cast the same shadow they once did. I think about how he walked me home from the party and stayed with me until Audrey came back. How he drove with me to Baltimore so I wouldn’t have to go alone.
Those were real and true things I didn’t expect and he didn’t have to do. Just like I didn’t expect his patience and tenderness in bed, the way he always put me first. Even with no experience, I know that’s not what most guys are like.
He doesn’t have a great track record, but I have no track record, so who am I to talk? The whole point of my lessons was to experience life and have a chance at love. I never meant to be so cowardly that I ran from the first sign of it.
I need to find him.
My hands shake as I type the name of his family’s company into my map app and stare at the little pin on the screen. It looks kind of far, so I search out a map showing the Bart stops, and then I’m racing back down the winding path, past the pagoda and waterfall, the hedge sculpted like Mount Fuji. People are obstacles to maneuver around as I make my way to the park exit, my heart racing like I’m running out of time. Because maybe I am, and I don’t know it yet. Maybe Casey’s over me, or sick of dealing with me.
Maybe, I’m too late.
I get to Lincoln and turn east toward Market Street, where I find a BART stop. People line up where the doors will open, which strikes me as amazingly civilized, and the orderly way we file on the train calms me.
For about one second.
Then we start to move, and I’m hurtling through space toward a scene I can’t even play out in my head.
I get off at Montgomery Station, in the financial district, and check my location. Fortify is only two blocks away. It’s cool out, no more than fifty degrees, but I’m sweating from nerves and breathing way too fast. Stepping out of the flow of people I take long, deep breaths and talk to myself in my internal doctor voice, the way I imagine talking to a patient.
A patient having an anxiety attack.
Asking Casey to give me lessons was terrifying, but that was nothing compared to this. I barely even knew him then. I feared embarrassment, not losing him forever. But this—this is either the beginning of our future, or the door closing on it.
I’ve reached the pin on my map. A huge metal sign engraved with a fortress stands in front of a modern-looking building with sharp angles and lots of glass.
I take out my phone to call him, then decide against it. He could be too busy to answer or ignore me, since he thinks I’m three thousand miles away. Or ignore me because he wants nothing to do with me.
I’m shaking as I push through the glass doors and into the cool interior of the building. A man sits at a desk near a bank of elevators and, since I have no idea where I’m going and he’s watching me, I head over to him.
“Can I help you, miss?”
“I’m here to see Casey Grant.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“No, I was actually hoping to surprise him. We go to school together.”
He gives me an appraising
look and obviously decides I don’t look threatening. Given the trail of tears Casey’s left behind, it’s probably not this guy’s best decision, but it helps me out.
“Your name?”
“Hannah Bloom.”
He presses a few buttons. “A Ms. Hannah Bloom is here to see Casey.”
He doesn’t say anything else for at least a minute. They must be summoning Casey or calling him at his desk. Does he have an office of his own? Will I get to see it? Or am I about to be escorted without ceremony out of the Grant family’s place of business?
“I’ll send her right up,” he finally says, hanging up. “You can go up now, Ms. Bloom. Take those elevators to the sixth floor and head toward the executive suite.”
I give him a shaky smile and do as he says, my heart thumping like it wants to break free and make a run for it. I step onto the elevator and press the button for six, realizing as I do that I don’t even know what I’ll say to him.
Brilliant.
Chapter Twenty
The elevator doors open onto a floor with high ceilings and lots of windows. It looks like a modern art museum, only with less art and more offices. Outside the elevators is another, smaller lobby area with plants and comfortable chairs. I look around, wondering how I’ll know which way the executive suite is.
A woman at a reception desk looks up. “Ms. Bloom?”
I nod.
She starts to get out of her chair but stops when she sees a man coming out of his office.
“No worries, Louisa. I’ve got this,” he says.
It’s like a sneak peek at what Casey will look like in thirty years. He’s got to be around fifty, and he’s still movie-star handsome.
He holds out his hand to me. “I’m Tim, Casey’s dad.”
I shake his hand. “I’m Hannah. I know Casey from Carlyle.”
“I’m afraid Casey’s not here.”
I stare at him as all thought freezes in my head. I can’t think what to say or do next. For a second I’m afraid I’ll break down and cry, but I swallow and manage to keep it together.
“Why don’t you come sit for a minute or two, since you came all this way,” his dad says.
“I’m so sorry. I should have called first.”
“Don’t be sorry. Normally, you’d have caught him, but as of a couple weeks ago, he no longer works here.”
He turns and heads toward his office, so he doesn’t see me gaping at him. Casey finally did it, then. I wonder how it went. His dad seems fine, but it must have been awful.
I follow him into his office, an enormous room with a sitting area. He sits across from me in some kind of modern chair that probably cost hundreds of dollars. I perch on the edge of the couch, my hands clutched in my lap, and make myself meet his eye.
He smiles again, and while I’m glad to say I don’t get hot for him, he’s enough like Casey that it’s fascinating to look at him. I start to feel a little less awful, and when I smile back it’s a real one.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” he asks.
I’m actually pretty thirsty, but I shake my head. “No, I’m fine, thank you.”
“Casey’s visiting a friend in Monterey, but he’ll be back day after tomorrow. Will you still be here?”
I shake my head. “I fly back tomorrow morning.”
“He’ll be sorry he missed you.”
“I guess I’ll see him soon enough. His room is right down the hall from me.”
Louisa appears in the doorway. “Sorry to bother you, Tim, but your four o’clock is here.”
He looks sat his watch. “Is it that late already?”
I stand up. “It was really nice meeting you.”
Tim gets up, and his expression is so kind, it’s clear he knows I’m crazy gone for his son. How many girls like me has he seen over the years?
“Are you okay, Hannah?”
“I’m just tired. It’s been an intense couple of days.”
“Where are you staying?”
“The Parkside Hotel.”
“Let me call you a car.”
I’m not even sure what that means. “Oh…um…that’s okay. I don’t mind taking public transportation.”
“It’s the least I can do to make up for my son having such bad timing.”
I really am tired, so I hesitate too long.
“That’s settled then,” he says with a pleased smile. “I’ll walk you downstairs and leave you with George. The car will be here in no time.”
Stopping at Louisa’s desk, he asks her to call for the car. But instead of leaving it at that, he accompanies me down in the elevator. We step out into the foyer near the reception desk.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Hannah,” he says, holding out his hand.
We shake, and he’s so nice, so fatherly and attentive, I can see why Casey dreaded the thought of disappointing him.
I take a seat in the lobby area until George tells me the car has arrived. A man in a dark suit gets out and opens the back door for me, like I’m some kind of VIP. I give him the name of my hotel and sit back to watch the scenery go by.
Back at the hotel I crawl onto the bed and turn on the TV for company, but I can’t follow anything on the screen. I’m tired to my bones, and I can’t help worrying that I missed my chance with Casey. I’ll see him again in a few days, but Harry said it best in When Harry Met Sally. When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.
I wake up to my phone ringing.
It takes me a minute to realize I’m not dreaming. Then I look at my phone, and it’s Casey’s name on the screen.
“Casey?”
“I’m downstairs. Can I come up and see you?”
“I’m in a hotel,” I say stupidly.
“I know. I’m in the lobby. Can I come up?”
“Yes! I mean, of course. I’m in 428.”
It’s dark in the room, the only light cast by the TV screen. I turn it off and turn on the standing lamp by the desk, then run to the bathroom to straighten myself out. My hair’s a tangle, and it’s obvious I just woke up.
My hand shakes as I pull my toothbrush out of my toiletry bag and quickly brush my teeth.
Oh God.
Oh God oh God oh God.
I leave the bathroom, only to stand frozen in place, my legs trembling like they want to give up altogether.
Then he knocks on the door, and I swing it open.
He’s clean-shaven again, no longer the stranger who kept his distance. His expression is anxious, his eyes full of hope.
My tears come out of nowhere, and I’m not sure if they’re happy or sad ones, I only know they’re for him.
Then his arms are around me, strong and solid. “Hey, don’t cry.”
“I thought you were gone,” I say into his neck, my voice wobbly.
“My dad called and told me you’d come looking for me. I drove straight here.” He pulls back and looks down at me, and I see the same need in him I have in my own heart. “I had to know why you came to see me.”
I let out a deep, shuddering breath. “Because I love you. I love you so much, I feel awful.”
A look of wonder crosses his face, and then his arms are around me again. I’m lifted off my feet and swung in a circle, like he’s a soldier home from the war.
He’s smiling when he sets me back down, and I kiss him with all the longing and despair I’ve carried for so many weeks. I kiss him like I never let myself do before, my neediness and fear and love offered up to him without reservation.
He takes it even deeper. Everything he tried to tell me is there in the fierce demand of his mouth on mine, in the way he holds me. I wrap my arms tighter around him and press as close as I can, straining for more.
“God, Hannah,�
� he gasps.
He scoops me up and drops me in the middle of the bed, coming down beside me. A sigh escapes me at the feel of him, familiar and new all at once.
His expression is serious, almost sad. “I didn’t think I’d ever kiss you again.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a coward.”
“It wasn’t just you. I should have told you earlier there wasn’t anyone else, but I was afraid you wouldn’t care. You’re so fierce, and you go after what you want. And there I was, too afraid to talk to my dad.”
“But you did it.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Did you really mean it when you said you hadn’t looked at anyone else?”
“Of course I meant it.”
He pulls me even closer. Our knees are touching, and I can see the blond tips of his eyelashes.
“But girls are always hitting on you.”
“You’re the one I want. I was a goner the first time I kissed you.”
“You never seemed in much of a rush to have our lessons,” I point out.
“If they were too close together, it would have been over too fast. I figured if I spaced them out, maybe I’d get more time to prove I wasn’t the guy you thought I was.”
“I didn’t want to be like all the other girls who fell at your feet.”
“It was never like that. You know that, right?”
I nod, humbled that he’s wanted me all this time.
“I think I started to fall in love with you the day we watched I Love Lucy, but I didn’t realize I loved you until the night you fell asleep in my bed. I spent the rest of the semester torturing myself by sleeping on your pillow.”
“Without washing it?” I tease.
“Yeah.”
“Me, too.” My smile fades as I think about the night Lydia banged on his door. “I’m sorry for how I handled things that last night. I shouldn’t have run away like I did. I guess I was just scared.”
He smooths the hair back from my forehead. “I know, babe. I wanted you so bad, and I let it get too intense. I’m sorry.”
I lay my hand on his cheek, wishing I could take back all the pain I caused him. “I’ve been so stupid.”
