Left Hanging

by Cindy Dorminy

  “Super cute,” Shelby adds, smiling at me.

  Isaac gives Shelby the stare down. “Don’t interrupt unless you have something important to add.”

  She giggles. “That was important.”

  Isaac stares at her.

  She lowers her eyes. “Sorry. Please continue.”

  “Back to my rundown. He’s the father. He was with Mallory. He’s not anymore, but she seems to live in an alternate reality.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  Isaac walks to the glass door that leads from the sundeck to the fitness center and leans against it. “She’s a piece of work. You need to figure something out before she sinks those acrylic nails into him again.”

  Isaac peers into the fitness center. When he catches me staring at him, he raises his eyebrows, giving me a “what did I do” look, and stuffs his pizza into his mouth. He’d better not be up to anything.

  I take a gulp from my water bottle. “I thought about maybe asking him to meet for coffee one day, but that seems too casual for this kind of conversation. The setting needs to be private in case he decides to be an asshole.”

  Isaac tiptoes into the fitness center, peers around, and comes back out to the deck. “How are you going to spill the beans?”

  I ignore his question and narrow my eyes. “What are you up to?”

  He shrugs. “Looking for someone.”

  “What did you do?”

  He scratches behind his ear. “Greased the wheels.”

  Shelby crosses her arms. “Details.”

  He cringes. “I might have mentioned that Theo should stop by and—”

  “Isaac, I can handle this,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “I was doing my job… as a fitness consultant.”

  Sure, he was.

  Oh crap. Theo might stop by here. I have to get myself together.

  “You need to tell him, and the sooner, the better.” Shelby points her finger at me, which tells me her advice is more than a suggestion.

  I let out a sigh. “He knows, remember? Do you think he forgot?”

  “That’s not something you easily forget,” Isaac says.

  Shelby sighs and rolls her eyes. “Let’s take this one step at a time. You did tell him, face-to-face, right?”

  “I emailed him… multiple times.”

  She lets out an exasperated sigh. “And you’re sure he got the email? I know I rarely check my spam folder. Maybe it went there.” Shelby slides on her sunglasses and lounges back in her lawn chair for a lunchtime vitamin D session.

  “I know he read them. I had the ‘delivered’ and ‘read’ notifications enabled. Long story short. Mallory sent an email and a picture right before Christmas. She had her arms wrapped around him like a python. He was copied on the email, so I had a name and an addy. I worked up the nerve to write him.”

  I take another bite of my sandwich, trying to calm my nerves. I’m surprised I haven’t thrown up all over myself.

  Shelby’s mouth slips downward. “I take it that didn’t go over well.”

  “Not well at all.” This conversation has made me lose my appetite. Maybe some deep breaths will center me. “The first few emails were ignored. It wasn’t until I sent him a picture of the sonogram that I actually got a reply. He told me to leave him alone. I never wrote him again.”

  Isaac cocks his head to the side like a puppy.

  “Hmm,” Shelby says. “Do you think it was because of her?”

  “I suppose.”

  Isaac pinches the bridge of his nose. “Something’s not jiving. He doesn’t have the deadbeat vibe to him.”

  “He chose her over you and his baby?” Shelby asks.

  “Yep.” I sit back down on the mat as I think about the lowest point of my life. Never in a million years did I think he would do that to us.

  Shelby is slack-jawed. “I’m so sorry.”

  Isaac stomps his foot on the ground. “I’m telling you, they aren’t a couple anymore. And you always said you didn’t know the father.”

  “If anyone asked, I pretended I didn’t know who the father was. It was less humiliating than being rejected. But I cyberstalked him in case Stella ever wanted to know about him. I knew when he graduated, where he went for his residency. I did not know he was coming back to Vanderbilt, though. Last I heard, he was staying at Johns Hopkins.” I promised myself I wouldn’t make contact with him until Stella was old enough to understand what she wanted.

  I wipe a tear from my face. Isaac squeezes my shoulder. I’ve kept all of it locked away so deep for so many years, it hardly even sounds real now. But it is, and it sounds even more depressing when I say it out loud.

  “And this week, he didn’t ask about our child. He didn’t act awkward. He acted…” My lip quivers. It hurts so much to admit that he doesn’t care. Another tear slides down my face.

  Shelby leans down and hugs me. “He acted like it never happened.”

  “Maybe his brain is so full with medical facts that something had to slip out,” Isaac says.

  We both stare at him.

  “Hey, I saw on TV where that’s a real medical condition. Some people can only hold so many facts. When they learn a new one, one leaves them.”

  “Would you shut up?” Shelby yells at him before I have a chance to do the same thing. She focuses her attention back on me. “But if he wants to pick up where you two left off, you can’t let him pretend she doesn’t exist.”

  “I’ve decided I’m going to use the time Stella’s in California to let him get used to the idea of being a dad again. If he’s remorseful, he can see her when she gets back. And I deserve an apology. He needs to explain to me what he was thinking.”

  My path gets clearer in my mind. “I know what I want. Shelby, you’re the planner. What should I say to him?”

  She stands and stretches her arms over her head. “Step one—you march up to Dr. Hotness.”

  “He’s got a name. It’s Theo.”

  “I like Dr. Hotness better,” Isaac says.

  “Not helping,” I reply.

  “Step two,” Shelby continues. “Give Dr. Hotness a huge smack on the lips. Use lots of tongue. The more tongue, the better.”

  His tongue was pretty talented.

  “I agree,” Isaac says.

  “Step three—say, ‘You have a daughter. Deal with it.’ Bam! You’re done.”

  She takes a bow. Isaac claps.

  I can’t help but crack a smile. “That’s a little in-your-face. I’ll figure something out.”

  “If I see him again, I might smack that dimple off his face,” Shelby says.

  I try not to react. That dimple is irresistible. As much as I would like to agree with Shelby, I do like the dimple. That dimple draws me in and makes me forget his shortcomings. And Stella has his dimple, among other things. All he has to do is answer two not-so-simple questions: Why did he reject us, and is Mallory still in the picture? Now, all I have to figure out is when this conversation is going to take place. I could wait around like a middle-school kid to see if he makes the first move, or I could coax him to the fitness center so we could talk on my turf.

  Yes. Asking him to meet me here for a fitness assessment might be just the ticket.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Theo

  My nurse caught me snoring twice today. I think it’s Tuesday, but I’m not quite sure because I pulled another overnight ER shift. I can hardly keep my eyes open. To everyone else, it’s time to clock in and start the day. For me, it’s the end of eighteen straight hours of nonstop work. This killer schedule is going to be the death of me. I grab my diabetic kit and keys, ready to leave the ER. Hello, snoozy time.

  My buzzing phone makes me whine. I love my job, but please, not another emergenc
y today. I examine the display and see that it’s another message from I’m not a stalker.

  “Not now.”

  On my way to the door, I decide I can’t let it go. I have to read the text. It’s like a hangnail waiting to be ripped off.

  Stop by the gym as soon as you’re fit.

  And accidentally leave your diabetic kit.

  One letter you’ll gain if it’s left in her room.

  A second one’s yours if she returns it by noon.

  I whimper. I want sleep. Darla, you had better be glad you’re cute. As if I’m on autopilot, I drag myself across campus to the fitness center. I swipe in and shuffle inside like a zombie. I have no business being here, and I certainly don’t need to leave my kit lying around. If I weren’t leaving it in the hands of a licensed medical professional, I would never even consider it.

  I peek inside an office and see Darla pecking away on her computer, humming to the tune coming out of her stereo. I can’t make my feet move, so I lean against the doorframe. Her office is rather bland, no personal items at all except for one small picture of a toddler perched on the edge of her desk. She’s a mom. That must mean she’s married. Crapity crap crap crap.

  I clear my throat, finally catching her attention.

  Her posture stiffens. “Oh.”

  “So, is this where you hide out during the day?”

  She waves her hand through the air. “Yeah. My home away from home—when I’m not playing vampire, that is.” She bites her lip, making me salivate.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Uh, sure. Have a seat,” she says, nibbling on a fingernail.

  I slide into the chair next to her desk. I’m not sure what to do or say now that I’m here. She may be the one behind these messages and getting a thrill out of making me do these things. But on the other hand, she may be totally clueless, no pun intended.

  “To be completely clear, I’m not stalking you.” Hint, hint. Come on, Darla. Give me a sign that you’re my anonymous messenger.

  She grins. “Never crossed my mind.”

  Bummer. She didn’t give me one twitchy, nervous reaction.

  “So…” She tries repeatedly to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She gives up and blows the hair out of her eyes. “Are you getting settled in?”

  I cannot get near this girl without her reacting nervously. Calm down, Juliet. I won’t bite. I mean, I might bite, but it would definitely be consensual. “Yeah. Everyone’s been very helpful. Already working my ass off.”

  “Anything unexpected?” she asks.

  Yeah. You could say that. It’s a Hangman puzzle you sent me. “Uh, no.”

  Her lips are stretched into a tight straight line. “That’s good. Great. Good.” She drums her fingers on her desk.

  We stare at each other. I need to find a way to break the ice. I point at my diabetes bag. “Do you mind if I check my sugar before I work out?”

  She blinks. “Of course not. Do you need an Accu-Chek?” She starts to get up.

  I wink at her while I fish through my pack. “I come prepared.” And I’m leaving it in your office like your message instructed me to. I take out the glucose-testing machine and place a test strip in the slot. “This is my lifeline. Never go anywhere without it, but I do need a pen. Can I borrow one?”

  She stares at me while she rummages around in her desk drawer. “Here.” She holds out a tampon for me to write with.

  “Uh, I don’t think I’ll need one of those anytime soon.”

  She crinkles up her brow and takes a quick peek down. A horrified expression crosses her face.

  “Oh shit,” she screeches and slams the tampon back into the drawer. She throws a pen at me then slaps her hands over her face, peeking at me between her fingers. She’s so cute trying to hide her beet-red face.

  A chuckle escapes my lips as my eyes roam the small office. I wipe my finger with an alcohol pad and prick it with a lancet. I nod toward the frame on her desk. “Nice picture.”

  She lowers her hands. “Huh?”

  I motion with my head toward the picture of the toddler dressed in a Princess Leia outfit and holding a trick-or-treat bucket.

  Then I focus back on my finger and force the drop of blood onto the test strip.

  “Oh,” she says and slides the picture into her desk drawer.

  That’s odd. “Yours?” Please say “no.” Please say it’s a niece.

  She growls at me. “Yes. I have a daughter.” She stares a hole through me. She pastes on a cavity-producing sugary smile, while I try not to show how defeated I feel.

  “Congratulations.” Gah. I can’t stop my runaway mouth. This has to be her secret. Dang. Game over before it ever got started. “She’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks.”

  “She doesn’t look anything like you.” Way to go, Casanova. That didn’t come out right.

  She blinks and nibbles on her fingernail again.

  I squeeze my eyes closed for a second and take a calming breath. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that she doesn’t favor you. Maybe your husband?”

  If she says “yes,” I might throw up all over her desk and shoot the messenger. The entire premise of the game makes no sense if she’s married.

  “Nope.”

  Hallelujah! And I’m back in the game.

  “Divorced?” Boy, I sure am nosy. The Accu-Chek beeps, making me jump.

  “No, never been married, okay?”

  “Oh. Good, I guess.” That was stupid. Way to go, Mr. Diarrhea Mouth. Now she has my nerves all whacked.

  She cocks an eyebrow. “Don’t you think you should go work out?”

  “Yeah, guess so. Do you mind if I leave my kit here?”

  “Why?”

  Like you don’t know. “It has my emergency glucagon in it. I need it close by in case my sugar drops too low.”

  “Oh, sure. No problem. But I’m heading to a meeting soon. I’ll leave the door unlocked so you can get it before you leave. Get your kit after you get fit.” She laughs at her own joke. “It rhymes. Kit and fit… never mind.”

  I quirk an eyebrow.

  “Seriously, it will be safe in my office, but I wouldn’t want you to be without it if you need it.”

  Maybe she isn’t the one sending me the game. Before this conversation, I was sure it was her. But now, I don’t know.

  I write down my glucose value on my log sheet. “Good. Thanks.”

  I don’t want to move, but I force my legs to leave her office. “Good to see you again, Juliet. Thanks for the… pen.”

  She lets out a relieved laugh, as if she was holding her breath during the entire conversation. I start to leave when she says, “Have a good workout, Romeo.”

  I chuckle as I wave good-bye. I sneak a peek back toward her office and find her beating her head against her desk. God, she is absolutely adorable, and I am absolutely doomed. I situate myself on a bench and start pumping out a set of bicep curls. Isaac wanders around the workout area. When he sees me, he waves.

  It’s him. Isaac has to be the culprit. During our coffee time, he mentioned that coming to the gym could be a way to ease back into Darla’s life. It’s him. It has to be.

  “How’s it going? Theo? Or is it Romeo?”

  I laugh and nearly drop the dumbbells. In my state of exhaustion, I really shouldn’t be using anything heavier than two-pounders. Even those might feel heavy. I’m such a wimp.

  “You’re not stalking me, are you?”

  Isaac scrunches up his brow. “Come again?”

  I wave him off. “Never mind zombie boy over here.”

  “So,” he whispers. “You here to work out or for the scenery?” He nods his head toward Darla’s office.

  I put the dumbbells back on the
rack. “Considering I can hardly keep my eyes open, I’m going with door number two and say the scenery.”

  Isaac laughs. “Maybe you’ll win the grand prize.” He waves to another fitness member. “Take it easy. See you soon.” He strolls away.

  My two prime suspects act clueless in regards to the Hangman puzzle. I’ll find out who’s sending them to me eventually. But most importantly, I’m going to get some more letters to that puzzle.

  I manage to push my body through thirty minutes of a half-assed workout before I can’t take it anymore. I peek inside Darla’s vacant office. My bag sits right where I left it. I snicker to myself as I tiptoe out of the fitness center and head home. Let’s see if she takes the bait. Whatever happens, I have a pillow calling my name.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Theo

  Tap, tap, tap. My head barely hit the pillow; it can’t be time to wake up already. Tap, tap, tap. There it is again. Crap. I untangle myself from the sheet and stumble to the door. This had better be good. A few good hours of sleep isn’t too much to ask for.

  “Coming.” If it’s Mallory, I’m going to be pissed. She knows it’s over. She has shown up twice this week, and it’s getting annoying.

  I swing open the door. Suddenly, I’m not pissed anymore. Darla is standing on the other side. I try to show how happy I am, but I’m butt-ugly tired. “Hey.” It’s all I can manage.

  “I, uh…” she stutters and holds out my diabetic kit.

  I glance down at my watch. It’s 11:45. Ka-ching! I scored two letters. I take it from her.

  “Did I wake you?” she asks.

  “It’s okay. Want to come in? Sorry about the mess,” I say, pointing to the stack of moving boxes in the living room as I retreat back inside.

  I turn around to see her staring at my chest. Oops. I forgot to put on a shirt. I take a gander at my body to make sure I’m wearing pants. One never knows. Scanning the room, I spot a T-shirt on the floor. I grab it and sniff it to see how many days it has been lying there before I fling it over my head.