First Crush

by Linda Seed

  Now that he’d talked it over with her, he was free to think about other things for a while. Like why she didn’t want to go out with him on a real date—just the two of them.

  He waited until they were standing next to Bianca’s car, a fat moon above them, before he said, “So. We’ll see, huh?”

  She smiled a little—the faintest tug of her lips. “I didn’t want to turn you down in front of your son. I thought it might hurt your ego.”

  “Considerate.” He nodded. “But why say no at all?”

  She cocked her head slightly as though she was considering giving him an answer. Then she put out her hand for him to shake instead.

  “Good night, TJ. Thank you for dinner. I enjoyed it.”

  He took her hand in his, but instead of shaking it, he held it. “It was my pleasure.”

  12

  Bianca drove home still feeling a tingling in her hand where they’d touched. Okay, there wasn’t a real tingle—it was a construct of her imagination—but it felt real. It felt as though he’d sent an electric current from her fingers, through her hands, down to her belly, and then lower.

  How could she still be this attracted after so many years? How was it that she hadn’t left her Troy Davenport fixation behind with her butterfly hair clips and her frosted lip gloss?

  She’d imagined this, she was embarrassed to admit to herself. She’d imagined Troy Davenport coming back into her life one day, recognizing his mistake, and declaring his need for her.

  When he’d held her hand and looked at her the way he had, it felt like all of those fantasies of her redeeming herself in his eyes might finally come true.

  And then she’d said goodnight.

  Bianca was a fundamentally practical person, and she knew better than to put the crazy product of her imaginings above what was real. Her career was real, as was her responsibility to TJ’s son. Her heartbreak had been real. And her relationship with Peter had been real, too, even if it hadn’t been sustainable.

  She was certain that when she finally found her lifetime match—if she did, indeed, find him—he wouldn’t be some insanely attractive figure from her past. He’d be like Peter: stable, sensible. Ordinary.

  Her sisters would have told her not to settle for ordinary—they’d said it about Peter so many times she could recite their arguments verbatim. But the thing about ordinary was that it wouldn’t leave you sobbing on your bed under a poster of Justin Timberlake.

  And she’d turned him down for another reason, too. Because there was another part to her fantasy about what might have been with Troy Davenport. In that part, Bianca was the one being pursued, and he was the one being rejected.

  She wasn’t the kind of person who would turn someone down just for the fun of hurting them. But she had to admit that it had felt good to be the one with the power, the one making the decisions instead of being helpless with desire.

  But she was second-guessing herself now. She’d never actually said no—not as such. She could call him and say she would love to go out with him.

  She was still considering her options when she got home. Sofia was at Patrick’s place, but Benny and Martina were sprawled on the sofa in their pajamas watching TV with a bowl of popcorn between them.

  When Bianca came in, Benny grabbed the remote and paused whatever they were watching.

  “You don’t have to turn it off,” Bianca told her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “I did have to turn it off,” Benny said. “If I didn’t, how could I grill you about how things went with TJ?”

  “You could just not grill me.” Bianca hung her coat and purse on a hook by the door.

  “That’s not an option,” Benny said.

  “No, it’s really not,” Martina put in.

  Bianca sat on the sofa next to Martina. She reached past her sister to grab a few pieces of popcorn from the bowl and began munching on them. “It went fine. It was fine.”

  “One fine sounds like it was okay but boring. Two fines sounds like you’re bullshitting us,” Benny observed.

  Bianca’s shoulders slumped. “He asked me out.”

  “No shit,” Benny said. “That’s where you just were. You were out.”

  “No.” Bianca brushed the popcorn dust off her hands. “This wasn’t a date. His son was there. It was … friendly. But definitely not a date.”

  “But he asked you out on an actual date,” Martina clarified.

  “He did.”

  “God, that must have been sweet after all these years. So, when are you going?” Benny did a little dance with her feet, which were encased in fuzzy slippers.

  “I’m not.”

  “You’re not?” Martina sat up straighter and stared at her. “Why not?”

  “Because I said no. Well, I didn’t actually say no. I said ‘we’ll see,’ and then I shook his hand.”

  “You shook his hand,” Benny said.

  “I … yes.”

  “Is that code for some perverse sex act? Because otherwise, this doesn’t compute,” Benny said.

  “Stop,” Martina told Benny. “She’s making him work for it a little. There’s nothing wrong with that. Why shouldn’t he work?”

  “I’m not making him work, and it’s not code for anything,” Bianca insisted. “I didn’t want to go out with him!”

  “Well, now you’re just lying,” Benny said.

  Bianca didn’t want to explain herself, didn’t want to painstakingly dissect the conflicting emotions that were rushing through her. So she got up, took the remote from where it sat on the coffee table, and restarted the movie.

  “I’m not lying,” she lied. “I’m going to bed.”

  The hand-shaking thing should have annoyed TJ. Instead, he was intrigued. Unless he’d completely lost his ability to read women, he knew she still had a thing for him. So why hadn’t she said yes when he’d asked her out? Why the handshake?

  Earlier, when she’d hit him with the we’ll see, he’d wondered if maybe she was seeing someone. That was possible. But if so, wouldn’t she have mentioned it when he’d invited her for dinner? Wasn’t that something that would have come up?

  He wouldn’t have said he was the kind of man who would pursue a woman just because she turned him down—just to prove he could do it—but here he was, thinking about her and wondering how he might change her mind.

  And, hell, it wasn’t just because he had something to prove. He wanted her to like him. Was that so wrong?

  Once she was gone, TJ checked Owen’s homework, then they watched some TV together, with Gary sitting between them on the sofa. The dog had needed TJ to haul him up there, because he was too old to jump up. TJ’s back wasn’t what it used to be; he was going to have to build some dog stairs or a ramp or something.

  After the show ended, TJ sent Owen off to bed, dealing with the usual delays and excuses, the usual indignant speech: I’m not a baby anymore, why do I have to have a bedtime? The truth was, Owen had to go to bed at ten p.m. because that was when TJ got tired. Though TJ wasn’t about to admit such a frailty to his son.

  This time of the evening—the time after Owen was in bed, when TJ had only himself for company—was when he really felt the loss of his marriage. It wasn’t the sex he missed, though he did miss that. It was the companionship. It would have been nice to have someone to talk to about his day, someone to sympathize about the little struggles of both of their lives, someone to listen to his stupid jokes or offer opinions about random things.

  Penny had been good at that at first. Early in their marriage, they’d sat in bed late at night and talked about so many things: their fears, their memories, their plans. But the longer they were together, the less they’d talked to each other. It was as though they’d only had a finite number of words for each other, and as the supply neared its end, they’d had to ration them to keep from running out entirely.

  Talking with Bianca at dinner had been fun and easy. He wanted that with someone again. And he wouldn’t mind at all if that
someone was Bianca.

  He turned out the lights, stripped down to his boxers, and got into bed, but sleep didn’t come. He picked up his phone from the bedside table and scrolled through his social media for a while, waiting for his eyelids to get heavy.

  Then, against his better judgment, he brought up his texting app and composed a message for Bianca. She was probably asleep, as he should be, but if so, she’d get it in the morning. He liked the thought that his message would be waiting for her when she woke up.

  I enjoyed tonight. Thanks for coming. Then, with a grin, he typed: You really should consider going out with me sometime, without Owen.

  He sent the text and put the phone down, not expecting an answer.

  A moment later, his phone pinged with a response.

  We’ll see.

  He couldn’t help laughing.

  13

  The next day, a Tuesday, Bianca was going about her day in a cloud of contentment, thinking about TJ and his text, when Owen’s test results came in and ruined everything.

  “It’s here,” Sofia said as Bianca passed behind the reception desk on her way to an exam room.

  “What’s here?”

  “Owen Davenport’s lab results. You said you wanted to know right away, so …”

  “Oh. Right. Yes. Okay.” Melissa Starkey could wait in Room Three for a little longer. Bianca went into her office, sat down at her desk, and pulled up the results on her desktop computer.

  Shit.

  His viral serology tests were negative for hepatitis, but his liver function panel was all over the place. There was something going on, and it was serious. She’d known that just from talking to the boy, just from looking at him, but she hadn’t wanted it to be true.

  She couldn’t call TJ now; it was flu season. If she got behind schedule, before she knew it she’d have angry parents and restless kids stacking up in her waiting room and spilling out into the hall.

  She’d call as soon as she got a break, or, if there wasn’t a break, she’d call as soon as her last patient left. She was never eager to break bad news, anyway. Her least favorite part of the job was making those calls that ruined a parent’s day.

  She left her office and headed toward the exam room where Melissa Starkey was waiting for her. On her way, Sofia caught the look on her face and knew.

  “Oh, no,” she said.

  Bianca hesitated at her sister’s look of sympathy. Then she fixed a pleasant, businesslike expression on her own face and went to examine Melissa Starkey.

  When the last patients had gone and Bianca’s nurse had left for the day, Sofia tidied up the reception desk and asked, “Do you want me to stay?”

  Sometimes they drove in together, but today, Bianca had come in early to catch up on some paperwork, so they’d arrived separately.

  “No,” Bianca said. “You go ahead. Thank you, though.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m fine. It’s fine.” And it was, Bianca reassured herself. She gave parents bad news all the time, and after all, this wasn’t the worst news; no one had cancer, to her knowledge. No one had a terminal diagnosis. Still, something was going on, and it wasn’t minor.

  When Sofia had gone and Bianca was alone in the office, she settled in at her desk and called TJ. The fact that she was calling from her office phone rather than her cell might have tipped him off that this was official, because he already sounded tense and guarded when he answered the phone.

  “Bianca. What’s up?”

  “Hi, TJ. Do you have a moment to talk?” And when had that sentence ever led to anything good?

  She told him about Owen’s test results. She told him what they did and did not mean. She explained how much was still unknown, and she laid out the possibilities for the most likely things that could be going on.

  “I’m going to refer Owen to a pediatric gastroenterologist,” she said. “You’ll want to get him in as soon as you can.”

  “As soon as I can? That sounds ominous.”

  “Well.” She wanted to reassure him that it could be nothing, but there was no scenario in which this was nothing. “It’s just not something you want to take lightly.” Not that he was. She could hear the tension in his voice. She could hear the fear.

  “My office will get this approved through your insurance company in the next day or two, but I’m going to give you the specialist’s name and number now, and I want you to call tomorrow. Make the appointment, and you can give them the paperwork later.”

  Her urgency was going to alarm him, she knew, but there was no way around it. She needed him to be alarmed.

  When she’d given him the information and he’d taken it down, she offered what reassuring words she could. “Dr. Temple is very good. Whatever this is, she’ll deal with it.”

  “Right,” he said. “Right.” She could tell that he was trying to keep himself calm and matter-of-fact.

  As a woman who’d never had kids, Bianca couldn’t quite imagine the fear of knowing your child was seriously ill. She tried to imagine it so she would be empathetic with her patients’ parents. But imagining it was one thing. Living it was something else.

  “TJ? Call me anytime, if you have questions or if you need help. Just … call me.” It was all she had to offer.

  TJ held his shit together, because what choice did he have? He didn’t even know what they were dealing with yet. There might come a time when he’d lose his shit, but for now, it would be a waste of effort. Especially when he had to save his strength to deal with his ex-wife.

  He gave Owen his dinner, then waited until the kid was in his room with his headphones on, blasting God knew what kind of music, before he called Penny.

  “Pen. How’s your mom?” He led with that, because no matter what he might be dealing with, he never wanted to forget that Penny was going through something hellish of her own.

  “Oh … the medication they’re giving her doesn’t seem to be helping anymore. They’re finally going to evaluate her for a transplant. But what if they put her on the list and she doesn’t get a liver?”

  “She’ll get one,” he said, because he needed to say something that didn’t sound utterly useless. He wasn’t sure he succeeded.

  “Sure.”

  “Listen, Pen … I’m calling because Owen got his test results from his doctor.”

  “You mean Bianca. Dr. Russo.”

  “Yeah.” He told her what Bianca had said, then explained about the specialist—and about the need for them not to waste time.

  “Oh, God.”

  He wished he hadn’t had to tell her. He wished he could let her deal with one emergency at a time, because he’d loved her once and because she was still the mother of his child.

  “They said it was her drinking,” Penny said, interrupting his thoughts.

  “What?”

  “My mother. They said it was the alcohol. But if Owen’s sick, and it’s his liver … I mean, that can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

  Bianca had suggested the same thing.

  “How do you know she even knows what she’s talking about?” Penny said before he could answer her. “Bianca Russo, I mean … What if she’s wrong? I don’t know why you couldn’t take him to a real doctor, TJ. One who doesn’t have a thing for you. Is that why you took him there? So you could get into her pants? Because that’s a shitty way to treat your son’s health, TJ. For God’s sake …”

  “She is a real doctor.” He could have taken the rest point by point, but he knew Penny was just lashing out at him because she was scared. Hell, so was he.

  “Yeah, just because she’s got some paper on the wall doesn’t mean—”

  “We’ll handle it, Penny.” He said it in his most soothing voice. “We’ll get him the help he needs, and we’ll handle it.”

  Penny started to cry.

  “Penny? Trust me. I’m on this.”

  “Tell me everything you find out. Tell me every goddamned thing.” He could see Penny’s face in his mind, the way s
he was struggling for her composure, her lips compressed, her eyes hard and determined.

  “I will.”

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  He wished he could promise her that Owen would be okay. But that was a promise nobody could make.

  14

  TJ tried to make an appointment with the specialist the next day, but the earliest spot they could offer him was more than a month away—which was bullshit.

  “My son’s doctor said he needs to be seen right away,” he told the woman who’d answered the phone. “She said not to wait. So I don’t—”

  “I understand, sir.” Her tone suggested she said the same thing to worried parents dozens of times per day. “But that’s the earliest appointment the doctor has available. Would you like me to put your son on our waiting list in case someone cancels?”

  TJ hung up without answering her.

  When he called Bianca, he didn’t bother with the office phone, because he’d have to go through Sofia at the front desk, and he didn’t want to go through anyone, or leave a message, or wait for a return call. He wanted to talk to her directly, and he wanted it to happen right damned now.

  The call went to her voice mail, so he bit off an obscenity and left a message as calmly as he could manage. He was about to get into his truck and drive over there when she called him back.

  “TJ? Is everything okay?”

  “Hell no, it’s not okay.”

  “Is it Owen? What’s going on?” She sounded alarmed, which immediately made him feel guilty.

  “It’s just …” He rubbed at his forehead with his hand. “The specialist you referred us to. She can’t see us for a month.”

  “What?”

  “Four weeks.”

  “Did you tell them I said he needs to be seen sooner? Did you—”