“Right here,” Zeke responds, placing sweatpants and a t-shirt beside me. “Do you need help getting dressed?”
When I finally look at him, I see none of the emotions I feared would mask his jovial face. If I was a younger, more naïve version of myself, it would be easy to mistake his expression for love. Adoration. Devotion.
“Please.” It’s an unnecessary response as he’s already reaching under my shoulders to ease me from the bed. We’re in tune to one another, almost making it look easy to undress and redress me quickly.
“Just so you know, your mother left this morning. She was muttering something about giving you what you wished for as she stormed out.” Zeke looks down at me with his dark eyes, concerned about how I’ll take the news. “Do you want to tell me what happened in here this morning?”
I simply shrug, not having anything to say in response. This is what I wanted, right? If it is, why does it hurt that she didn’t even bother to say goodbye to me?
Walking to the administration office at the hospital isn’t much different than being sent to the principal’s office as a child. You may not know why you’ve been sent there, but you know it’s not going to be anything good.
The witch is gone.
I breathe a sigh of relief at Zeke’s veiled message. For the past three weeks, I’ve been sneaking out of Zeke’s condo before dawn to make sure there’s no trace of me being there when Loretta arrives. It doesn’t take a genius to know he wouldn’t be sending this message if he meant she was gone for the day. We’ve all been dying for her to fly back to the east coast where she belongs.
On her own?
There’s no response before I reach the offices on the first floor. I open the door, letting the receptionist know who summoned me here. My heart starts racing when she won’t look me in the eye. Maybe it’s coincidence, but I get the impression she knows more about the nature of my visit than I do.
“Jeff, Mister Hansen is ready to see you,” she announces with a half-hearted smile.
Lloyd Hansen is the man responsible for bringing me to the hospital. I have the utmost respect for him and hate the cool greeting I receive.
“Doctor Armstrong, please sit.” He ushers to me to a chair across from his own at the mahogany desk.
“Thank you, sir,” I respond, hoping my voice doesn’t sound as shaky as my body feels. The only thing I can think of that would cause him to request a meeting with me as soon as possible is the little stunt I pulled the night Mary came into the emergency room, but I would think the nurse would have filed a complaint sooner if that was the case.
Then I remember the incident where Zeke and I were in an examination room when they wheeled Tasha in. That would definitely be a breach of protocol, no matter if I was on duty or not. I kick myself for letting my emotions get away from me when Zeke was so upset. I wanted so badly for him to realize that his actions were disruptive that I lost my head.
“I received a rather disturbing call this morning,” Lloyd informs me. I dig deep, trying to think of any unhappy patients or interfering family members of my patients who would have reason to go so high up the food chain.
I straighten in my chair, leaning in to show him I’m paying attention to what he has to say. Never mind the fact that I’m barely hearing the words. “Normally, I wouldn’t have given this woman any credence, but she seemed pretty adamant.”
Think Jeff, think. Nothing comes to mind. And if it’s a former patient, all of my sessions are recorded, so I will be able to disprove whatever is being said about me. My palms are clammy, my heart racing.
“She’s accusing you of making unwanted advances toward a patient,” he says sternly, looking over the top of his reading glasses. “Now, I spoke to the nursing staff that were on duty during the time she said this occurred, and they corroborated her story that you were in a room where you didn’t belong.”
Now I’m completely lost. I have never set foot in a female patient’s room without a nurse at my side. It’s operating procedure to avoid this exact situation. And working in the recovery unit, we’re not always dealing with patients who have all of their mental faculties working properly, so we don’t deviate from that. Ever.
“Sir, did the nurses indicate that I was out of line during this alleged incident?” Not once has my credibility been called into question. I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit by and let them punish me for something that I didn’t do.
“They didn’t remember anything like that, which is why I wanted to talk to you first. Do you know a woman named Mary Brunner?”
I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut. I know with every fiber of my being that Mary wouldn’t have done this to me. Just this morning, she smiled sweetly at me as I crawled out of the bed, her red hair fanned against the white pillowcase. She reached for me, telling me to hurry home after work.
“Yes, sir. She’s my girlfriend.” Suddenly, everything makes sense. The witch is gone. “Sir, who made the complaint?”
“The patient’s mother.” He informs me after glancing at the paperwork in front of him. “While I don’t typically make a habit of getting involved in the personal lives of staff, there’s a complication with your situation.”
A complication?
“According to the nursing staff, you came to her room outside of visiting hours, staying overnight more than once.” There’s no point denying either claim. I didn’t do a damn thing wrong here.
“That’s correct. As I said, Mary is my girlfriend. She was involved in a hit and run accident and I spent as much time as possible with her for those few days.”
“And who is Zeke Reed?” he asks, glancing again at the legal pad in front of him.
We’ve been so focused on Mary for the past month that I haven’t pushed the subject of needing to talk to them about what is going on with us. Now, I’m sitting across from my boss debating whether or not to tell him the truth. I can’t afford to lie, given the accusations Loretta has brought to him, but the world isn’t readily accepting of situations like ours. Even in a city as liberal as Madison, anything outside of a traditional, two-person relationship is seen as abnormal.
“Sir, that’s a complicated question,” I say, attempting to deflect.
“With all due respect, Jeff, it appears this entire situation is more complicated than a Spanish language soap opera. I’m a busy man. I don’t have time to field phone calls regarding what appears to be a personal matter.”
“I understand, sir. And I apologize that Loretta called you. She’s apparently unhappy with her daughter’s lifestyle choices and has chosen this as her best opportunity to attack those choices.”
I’m almost thirty-four years old. There’s no reason I should have to justify what happens behind closed doors to my boss. I really hope Zeke meant it and that Loretta’s gone for good because I have nothing to say to her at this point.
“I still have to speak to Ms. Brunner, but it appears to me that we’ll be able to close this as long as the situation is as open and shut as you claim.”
When I stand to leave, Lloyd walks me to the door, apologizing for the fact that he had to interrupt my day at the same time I’m apologizing that my personal life has spilled into my professional one.
“I’ll be in touch as soon as I talk to Ms. Brunner,” he says before closing the door behind me. I don’t make eye contact with anyone as I make what still feels like the walk of shame through the admin offices. I don’t need to see the critical looks of anyone who thinks they know what’s going on because, right about now, I would be tempted to put them in their place. No one gives a damn about the truth. Well, in this case what they might seeing as the full truth is far more scandalous than what they’ve heard through the grapevine. At least in their minds…
I’m feeling pretty good by the time I walk out of the clinic. The sun is shining and it’s a gorgeous late spring morning, I have an amazing man walking beside me and I’ve been cleared to go back to work. Granted, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in
the world to be forced to take a few more weeks off given that this is my favorite time of year, but I have cases that need my attention and I’ve never been a fan of handing work off to the other associates at our firm.
“Should we grab lunch and head to the lake?” Zeke asks as he helps me into his Jeep. “Seeing as it’s your last day of freedom, it seems like a shame to go straight home.”
“Don’t you have work you need to do?” I know Dylan has been doing the brunt of the work since the accident, but it’s time for Zeke to stop devoting so much of his time to me.
As is typical for Zeke, he ignores my question, slamming the door shut before jogging around to the driver’s side. It’s not that he’s a slacker, he’s actually very committed to making the music promotion company he runs with Dylan the best in the region. He just has this way of using every possible opportunity to procrastinate. As much as I appreciate everything he has been doing for me, I’m starting to feel like a convenient excuse for him to not spend any more time than he absolutely has to behind his desk.
“So, what do you want to grab on our way to the lake?” He asks as the engine rumbles to life. Like everything else in his life, the Jeep is a toy to him. It’s designed for stability when running through mud or fields, more than comfort while driving down the road. I wince in pain as he unsuccessfully attempts to avoid the many potholes along the road, each one jarring my still tender ribs.
“Zeke, you must have things you need to get done back at your office,” I sigh, feeling more like a parent than whatever it is that I am to him.
He shakes his head vehemently. “No. The work will still be there tomorrow. Today, I want to spend some time with you, enjoying fresh air and sunshine for a change. We can head over to the union and sit on the terrace while we eat.”
As he turns toward the lake, he continues painting a picture that makes it hard to refuse his offer. It’s been a month of sitting inside, breathing recycled air, and if I’m being honest, staring out the windows wishing I wasn’t laid up so I could enjoy the changing seasons.
Being the gentleman that he is, Zeke helps me find a table along the waterfront and goes inside to get our food. There’s still a slight chill in the breeze blowing off the lake, making me wish I had a jacket with me.
My phone chimes in my purse as I’m lost in thought, thinking back to my time as a student on this campus. The days spent in the library across the street studying hard and the nights spent on this very terrace partying even harder.
We need to talk.
Even though it’s nothing more than words on the screen, Jeff’s message causes my body to tense. Everything was great this morning before he left. So great, in fact, that I thought he was going to finally forget about my ribs and leg and have his way with me. But no, always the responsible one in the group, he reclaimed his control and left me wet, my body humming with desire to feel him.
At the union with Zeke. Have time for lunch?
Whatever’s going on, I have the feeling this isn’t something that should be done by text. Too many people have turned to using an impersonal, easily misunderstood form of communication to protect themselves from having meaningful, often difficult conversations. And any time you start out with “we need to talk” it’s going to be an unpleasant topic.
I’ll have to make it quick. I’m behind today thanks to this morning. Tell you about it when I get there.
It doesn’t take a minute for me to start second-guessing my decision to ask Jeff to join us. It’s just lunch, but there’s something about the gleam in Zeke’s chocolate brown eyes when he returns that makes this feel like a date more than two people simply sharing a meal. Not that there should be a problem with Jeff joining us, but I shouldn’t have invited him without asking Zeke first. By the time he returns with a plastic tray mounded with food and two sodas, I’m staring into the distance, wringing my hands nervously.
“Hey, everything okay?” He asks, sitting down across from me at the bright orange metal table.
“Jeff’s on his way,” I mumble, my attention still on a sailboat near the horizon. I’m replaying every moment I’ve had with my men, trying to figure out when things got so complicated. The fun and games I signed up for are nothing but a distant memory. Now I’m spending a little more time every day worrying about what will happen when one or both of the men I’ve come to rely on come to the same realization.
“Okay, and that’s a bad thing?” He asks quizzically.
“No, I suppose not,” I say with a shrug. If he’s not upset, there’s no reason for me to be. Well, except Zeke didn’t get those four words sent to him and I did, so he’s blissfully ignorant to what could be about to happen.
“Hey,” Jeff grumbles as he pulls up a chair. I study him carefully, hoping something in his body language will assure me that I’ve had far too much time to think recently and I’m all wrong. I don’t see that reassurance in his blue eyes. Despite a good night of sleep and the fact that it’s just after noon, he looks tired. The creases in his forehead reinforce my assumption that something’s wrong.
“Help yourself,” Zeke chuckles as Jeff dives into the mountain of food on our table. “Are you going to play hooky with us this afternoon? Since Mary has to go back to work tomorrow, I was thinking we could spend the rest of the day doing something fun.”
“Can’t,” Jeff mutters between bites.
Things never used to be like this with us. The three of us could curl up on the couch for hours on end, laughing and joking about the most random things. Now, we’re sitting around a ridiculously small table, all carefully avoiding one another.
“So, you wanted to talk?” I press when Jeff makes no move to start the conversation. He’s biting the inside of his lip, picking at his fingers as his eyes flit from me to Zeke.
“Did you get a call from the hospital today?” he asks, rubbing his forehead as he glances my direction.
I pull out my phone, knowing I had turned it off while we were in the clinic and I hadn’t checked for messages when I turned it on while we drove down here. When I see that there is a new voicemail, I hold up a finger to him as I dial in to check it.
“Yeah, some guy named Lloyd Hansen asked me to call him. Why do you ask?”
Jeff slumps forward in his chair, his elbows perched on the edge of the table as he speaks. His voice is quiet. Tight with restrained emotion.
“Your mother,” he grits out. “Do you have any idea why your mother would call and file a complaint against me?”
I feel as if I’m going to lose the little bit I’ve had to eat. I’m thoroughly confused as to what he’s going on about, but I can’t stand the feeling that he’s angry with me. And right now, I feel his icy eyes boring into me as he waits for an answer I don’t have.
“What… what are you talking about?” I stammer.
As Jeff relays the details of the complaint Mister Hansen received, the fear I felt over the idea that Jeff was upset with me morphs into rage toward my mother. I take deep breaths, focusing on every twisted bullet point so I can have the story straight when I call her tonight and tell her to stay the hell out of my life for good. She’s crossed a line this time and I will not stand by while she’s tries to manipulate people she barely knows simply because she is a closed-minded, bitter old woman.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper, leaning in to wrap my arm over his shoulder. My ribs scream in pain as my side presses into the metal of the table, but I ignore it, needing to have a physical connection to him right now. “I’ll call him and it will all be over.”
“Yeah, I’m not so sure it’s going to be that easy,” Jeff snorts in disagreement. “He asked me who Zeke is. Apparently, it was in your chart that he is your boyfriend, so it puts a bit of a kink in the story that I’m your boyfriend.”
“Okay? So I will explain to him that you’re both my boyfriends. We’re three consenting adults. What we do in the privacy of our own homes is of no concern to anyone else.”
I lean back, the pa
in in my side too much to take, and see the guys staring back at me in disbelief. Before either of them can say anything, I continue.
“Unless I’m mistaken, we seem to have a good thing going here. I can’t tell you what it’s meant to me that both of you have gone out of your way to help me heal.” I reach a hand to each of them, holding their hands tighter when both of them pull away at this simple gesture. “A lot of women out there spend their lives trying to find one good man. I’ve found two of them. Why would I not be honest about that?”
Zeke fidgets in his seat uncomfortably. The wheels are turning in his head, but his face is masked with worry. Jeff, on the other hand, appears to be mulling over my words.
Finally, Jeff perks up a bit, ending the second awkward silence of our short time together today. “Mary, I love that it’s so easy for you to rationalize this. The problem is, even if the three of us all agree that we want to pursue the idea of a triad relationship, the world in general doesn’t share your views. Hell, just look at your mother. She’s threatening my job because she thinks you’re doing something immoral.”
My mother is a meddling pain in my ass. The fact that she went to such an extreme measure to get me to bow to her wishes is unforgivable.
“I’m sorry my mother is trying to cause problems for you. She’s only doing this because she’s upset with me and you were the easiest target for her right now. And it’s not going to work because I’m going to make that call and explain the situation. If I have to, I will tell your boss exactly how off her rocker my mother is.”
Jeff crumples a sandwich wrapper, tossing it back onto the tray. He leans back while he finishes the last few bites, shaking his head slowly.
“Okay, but that doesn’t negate the fact that most people aren’t going to accept us. Are you really ready for the constant scrutiny? Zeke, are you ready to explain this to your family?” We both turn to look at Zeke, knowing he’s the one who currently has a stable family life. He’s also the one who has the most local ties, therefore he has the most to lose if people want to be assholes.
Unexpected Consequences Page 8
