Left Hanging

by Cindy Dorminy

  She flips her hair off her shoulder, scanning the room. Now that I’m certain he doesn’t want her, I lay the paper down so she can see me. For a brief second, her eyes widen. Then she paints on a smirk and goes in for the kill.

  She retrieves a small gift bag from her Louis Vuitton purse. While Theo dives into the bag, she side-eyes me. He laughs as he puts the item back in the bag. He places a hand on her shoulder, and I can’t breathe. Without warning, Mallory kisses him on the lips, and it takes all my willpower not to climb over two tables and rip her hair out. He springs away from her and forces her to stand so he can get out of the booth. I’ve never seen a guy scrub his beard so much, and I’m loving it.

  He races out of the cafeteria, away from me. Mallory shoves the gift bag back into her purse and storms off after him. Over her shoulder, she gives me a “this isn’t over yet” sneer.

  You got that right. She might have delayed my reveal right when I finally worked up the nerve, but this certainly isn’t over.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Theo

  I don’t want to be a jerk, but Mallory will not leave me alone. The more I try to pry myself away from her, the tighter her grip becomes. She’s like a human Burmese python. Today alone, I received a dozen texts from her. She wants to meet and talk, which means she wants to do the talking and none of the listening. I don’t have time for this.

  She said she wanted to give me my birthday present. I know what she usually “gets” me for my birthday, and I don’t want that anymore. Thank goodness the present she got me was only a small Etch A Sketch game. I’m sure she made some excuse at the toy store about buying it for a ten-year-old. I have to give her points for trying to embrace my love of games, but it’s too late, and I’m not so naïve as to think this was a genuine gesture.

  We’ve had the “it’s not working” talk-argument at least three times this week. It didn’t sink in before the move back to Nashville, and it’s not working now. I guess she thinks she’ll wear me down eventually like she usually does. But this is not like the other times.

  On the bright side, I received another message saying that my birthday plans for Darla awarded me three new letters to the puzzle. I don’t know yet what letters to choose. If I choose correctly, this could break the puzzle wide open.

  On my way to the doctor’s lounge, the click, click, click of Mallory’s heels on the tile floor don’t hide the fact that she’s following me. I know who it is before she touches my arm. Compared to Darla’s touch, which makes me feel alive, Mallory’s makes me feel as if I got pricked by a jellyfish. I roll my eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

  “Oh, babe,” she says. “Let’s talk.”

  I close my eyes and do my best to steady my breaths. “Mal, why are you doing this to yourself?”

  I march into the elevator, and of course, Mallory follows me. Boy, she doesn’t even stop to take a breath. Her fingers fly across her phone, sending a text, while she still complains to me. She’s a multitasker, that’s for sure.

  “I don’t know why you won’t go to the chancellor’s dinner with me. Hellloooo, it’s the chancellor.”

  Please, God, help me find my happy place. I replay the afternoon with Darla in my mind. Perfect day. Yep, I found my happy place.

  The elevator door begins to close, when a sweet voice says, “Hold the elevator.”

  I stick my foot in the doorway, and Darla rushes in. Well, this is going to be tons of fun.

  “Thanks,” Darla says. “Nine, please.”

  She leans against the other wall of the elevator as we start our ride upward; her eyes bore into mine. I feel as though I have a neon sign over my head, blinking “ex-girlfriend kissed me.” I gulp. Of course, the elevator has to make a stop at every floor, extending this predicament as long as possible. Awkward. Mallory’s eyes flick up over her phone at Darla.

  “Darla.” Mallory’s voice is so high-pitched, it could break glass. “I’ve been so busy; I haven’t had a chance to call you.”

  Darla focuses her attention on me, arching an eyebrow. “I’m sure you have been.”

  Shit. She knows.

  Oh boy, this is going to be interesting. I feel sorry for the innocent souls that happen to catch the same elevator as this little love triangle. I jingle the change in my pocket and stare at the open and close buttons on the elevator wall. I try to will the mechanics of the elevator to miraculously zip up the shaft quicker. Dang it. My superpowers aren’t working today.

  Mallory must have gotten wind of my interest in Darla. That would certainly explain the full-court press she has put on me this week.

  “Let’s get together real soon,” Mallory says.

  Darla stares straight at Mallory, and I would love to know what she’s thinking. “Absolutely.”

  Mallory zones back into her phone. When I glance back at Darla, she gives me a disapproving “mom” expression. I guess I deserve that. If we were alone in this elevator, I would be all over her. I sneak a peek at Mallory, who is giving me the stink eye. Busted. My best plan of attack is to fake confusion. I raise my hands to defend myself.

  “Darla, have you met my fiancé, Theo?”

  Darla busts out laughing. The jugular vein in Mallory’s neck is about to explode.

  “We’ve never been engaged,” I say. “Besides, you broke up with me, remember?”

  She sticks a bony finger in my face. “You tricked me into saying it, and you know it.”

  I shrug as I run a hand through my hair. If this elevator breaks down, I’m going to climb my way out of here. They both stare at me. Darla cocks her head. All of a sudden, the “in case of emergency” notice on the wall is very intriguing. A trickle of sweat slides down my back.

  “He works out at the wellness center sometimes,” Darla says to Mallory.

  Thank you, you sweet thing. I owe you one big time.

  “Oh,” Mallory says. “Babe, why didn’t you tell me? I would love to work out with you. We could do Pilates or Zumba together.”

  Darla snorts.

  I have to think of something quick. “Well… it’s always spur of the moment. You know how my schedule is.”

  “You working tonight?” Mallory’s fake interest in Darla is so transparent, a blind man could see it.

  “No, I’m headed upstairs.” Darla holds out her cut hand. “I hurt my hand the last time I was working on nine. I wanted them to know I was going to live.”

  By the sourpuss scowl on Mallory’s face, I’m not sure she has the same feeling as the ninth-floor staff. The elevator door opens, and Darla exits.

  “Toodles, Darla,” Mallory says.

  She waves as she exits the elevator. “Toodles.”

  When the elevator stops on the tenth floor, I take Mallory by the arm and lead her to a vacant conference room. I close the door behind us. “Mallory, please stop.”

  She fidgets with her phone. “I miss you, that’s all.” She slumps down in a chair at the conference table, and I sit in one next to her. I take her hand in mine.

  She gazes up at me. “It’s Darla, isn’t it?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

  “Yeah. We’ve both known it wasn’t working between us. You haven’t been happy with me, either.”

  She shrugs. Her phone buzzes, but for the first time I can remember, she doesn’t answer it. “Do you love her?”

  I nod. “I do. I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I’ll always care for you, but Darla has my heart.”

  Her lip trembles. She takes a deep breath. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

  This girl is exhausting. I stare at the ceiling, trying to find the right words. “Yes, it does. I have to go.” There’s a girl on the ninth floor who deserves an explanation.

  Mallory crosses her arms over her chest. “You’ll be back, and I may or may not take
you back.” She gets up, spins on her heel, and stomps out of the conference room.

  Since the elevators are notoriously slow, I take the stairs down to the ninth floor. I burst through the door and run right into Darla, almost knocking us both down. My arms wrap around her waist to steady her, but she pushes away from me.

  “I was hoping I’d run into you,” I say with a wink.

  She rolls her eyes at my terrible pun and pushes the button to call for the elevator five times. I take her by the hand and guide her to the supply closet.

  “Really? The supply closet? You need to read something other than medical romance novels.”

  I cage her in against the Pyxis medication inventory equipment. “She ambushed me.”

  Her jaw clenches. “That’s your problem, not mine.”

  “I don’t want her.” Her expression softens, so I continue. “It doesn’t matter what she says or what she tries. I love you.”

  Darla grabs me by the collar and yanks me down to plant a hard kiss on me. One kiss leads to another, until we are both starving for oxygen. I rest my forehead against hers, breathing in her breaths.

  “I want to… never mind. Every time I get up the courage to tell you, something drives down my courage. You should get back to work.”

  We ride down the elevator together, hand in hand. I’ve never prayed so hard to keep Mallory from popping into the elevator again.

  Darla mumbles to herself, making her even cuter.

  I cock my head to the side. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” She kisses me one more time on the lips. “See you soon.”

  She wraps her arms around my neck and gives me a squeeze. Then she pushes away from me and bolts down the hall.

  That was odd. But I’ll take her quirky oddness over Mallory’s possessiveness every day of the week and twice on Sunday.

  I review my latest text clue. I reply “S, L, B.” Before I make it back to the clinic, my phone buzzes. The message reads:

  You did not choose wisely.

  “Argh,” I moan, stomping down the hallway and inadvertently startling an elderly lady heading toward me. “Sorry,” I say.

  Another text follows:

  I know you worked all day long.

  But trust me, I won’t do you wrong.

  A nighttime workout could make your mood lift.

  A little birdie says she has to work the night shift.

  If I ever meet the person sending these clues, I’m going to kick his or her butt. I drag myself into the fitness center, and even though it’s only nine o’clock at night, I want nothing more than to have a date with my mattress. Tomorrow is going to be another long day at work. But I want to solve this puzzle, and so far, it’s not spelling out anything that makes a bit of sense.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Theo

  I have to admit, this is a great time to work out. Only two guys grunt out sets with free weights, and three others mindlessly jog on treadmills. At this time of night, I don’t have to fight for a weight bench. I swipe into the fitness center, and Darla catches my eye. I wave, and she heads my way.

  “Hey,” I say. “Got called in too?”

  I surprise myself by being able to eke out even one syllable. I get so goofy when I see her. When I’m around her, it gets hard to walk for various reasons. I want to grab her and forget there are people around. I take a few calming breaths and count to ten.

  “I stopped by to get some work done after our lovely meet and greet with Mallory. Sue, the weekend exercise specialist, was green around the gills. I sent her home, so I’m locking up.”

  “My lucky day, I guess.” Liar.

  “Whatever you say, Dr. Edwards.” Sounds like she didn’t buy my lame excuse one bit. She’s now able to read me like yesterday’s news. “Do you want me to hold your kit?”

  “Sure, thanks.” I hand it to her. “About Mallory—”

  “Don’t worry about it. Now, go try to get a decent workout.”

  She points to the weights and shoos me away. I walk backward toward the bench, not wanting to break eye contact, when I trip over a weight that was left on the floor. I’m not very slick.

  She covers her laughter with her hand and moves to the sea of treadmills. On the way, she picks up a folded piece of paper that was on the floor next to her feet. Without reading it, she slides it into the waistband of her yoga pants. She starts up a conversation with an elderly man huffing out a jog.

  I bang out a few sets, but it’s hard concentrating when she’s wearing yoga pants that leave little to the imagination. I’m going to pass out if I don’t breathe soon. She catches me staring at her and motions for me to follow her. I almost drop a dumbbell on my foot.

  She practically skips down the hallway, past the dressing rooms and into a conference room. I follow like a puppy, hoping I know where this is heading.

  She sits on the conference table and grabs my T-shirt to tug me closer to her. “I can only stay off the floor a few minutes, but wanted to see you. You need to get a handle on your… fiancé.”

  I slide her knees apart so I can get as close to her as humanly possible without being obscene. I mean, as much as I would like to take her blouse off, I don’t think she would appreciate it if I got her fired. “Hush. I think I need a fitness assessment. Can you check my heart rate during strenuous exercise?”

  She pulls my face to hers and kisses me. Oh, I’m a goner. As if I’m running on autopilot, I slide my hands around her waist.

  “Not strenuous enough,” I whisper.

  She pushes me away. “Don’t you ever think of anything else?”

  “Not when I’m around you, but every now and then, I think about baseball.”

  “Thinking about Mallory right now?”

  “Who is Mallory?”

  Her bottom lip is getting a workout from the way she’s nibbling on it. “You have some unresolved issues to deal with.” She focuses on her hands. “So do I.”

  I tilt her chin up so she has to look me in the eye. “No issues on my part, I promise.”

  My feather-light kisses on her neck make her hum in my ear.

  “So, nothing I say to you will make you leave me?”

  I slide her hair off her shoulder so I can kiss that sensitive spot behind her ear. She responds by latching on to my shoulders.

  “Nothing you say will change the way I feel about you.” I slide my hands up her thighs, nearing her hip bones.

  She stops my hands with hers. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

  “Trying to show you I have no issues.”

  She gives me a quick peck on the lips and stares at me. “I’m ready to tell you. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve, then Mallory made me doubt if I should, but I’m ready.”

  Yes. Finally. A warmness overcomes me and spills out into what is probably the goofiest grin I’ve ever made. I love this woman. I hope once she tells me, she’ll be able to feel the same way.

  My phone buzzes, but I don’t break eye contact with Darla.

  “You see… please understand…”

  My phone buzzes again. “Go on.”

  “The night at the party—”

  My fricking phone buzzes for a third time.

  She groans. “If you don’t answer that, whoever it is will continue texting you until you reply.”

  Dammit. When I read the text, my chin hits the floor. The room closes in on me, and if I don’t leave, I’m going to throw up all over Darla. I’m sure my blood pressure and my sugar levels are off the charts.

  “You okay?”

  “No.” I cannot believe this. There must be some mistake.

  “Work?”

  I read the words on my phone display again. I squeeze my eyes shut and hope when I open them again, the
text will be a fluke.

  “I wish.” I stumble away. “I need to go.”

  I gather up my kit and my keys and head outside. I read the text again.

  We need to talk. We are pregnant. CU at your car, Mal.

  I feel as if I’m swimming through Jell-O to get to my car. My feet won’t move, and I don’t really want them to. Mallory leans up against my car, still dressed in her professional business suit and high heels. She must keep late hours at the office. When she sees me coming, she stiffens and stands taller. Her blond hair whips across her face in the wind.

  “Hey,” I croak out. I don’t know what’s appropriate to say when someone tells you through a text that she’s pregnant. I’m not sure if “congratulations” or “are you going to keep it” is the right thing to say. If I don’t want to get smacked, I won’t ask if it’s mine. I don’t feel like getting smacked tonight.

  “Hey,” she says and hugs me.

  I loosely hug her back. I stuff my hands in my hoodie pockets to keep them from shaking. We don’t say anything for eons.

  “So…” I can’t form more than one syllable.

  I lean against my car and gaze up at the cloudless sky. I cannot believe this. I don’t love her. She doesn’t love me. It wasn’t much more than passing time together. And we were always, always careful. It’s virtually impossible for me to get her pregnant. This pregnancy is either the world’s suckiest timing, not mine, or a sick, twisted lie.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I finally admit.

  She lights a cigarette, takes a puff, and hands it to me. I take it from her and almost suck in the noxious nicotine before I flick it away. She knows I hate smoking, and she shouldn’t be smoking in her condition, anyway.