Perfect Distraction

by Allison Ashley

  The parking lot next to the gym would be where he’d vomited after working out one day, and not because he’d pushed himself, but because of chemotherapy.

  Betty Rae’s would always bring memories of Lauren, and the time they sat there together, admitting for the first time that they wanted to be together.

  Maybe leaving would be good for him…a place to start fresh.

  Start over.

  “Thank you,” Andrew said, looking at the man who’d mentored him these last few months. “I would really appreciate that, sir.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A week and a half later, on a Saturday that was so beautiful she felt the weather was mocking her, Lauren stood at Andrew’s door. She’d stayed strong and kept her distance. He had, too.

  She had texted Jeni several times since his hospital stay, though, asking if he was okay and if his symptoms were improving. She’d begged Jeni not to tell him.

  She’d kept a level head at work and at home, trying to return to the life she’d had before Andrew. The problem was, that prior life seemed black and white, and the time in between filled with color. She didn’t know how to go back.

  She hung out with her friends and watched documentaries. She went to Children’s Hospital, careful to check the schedule and go when Andrew wouldn’t be there. She studied for her board exam and worked on an educational lecture for the clinic nurses. She’d avoided the infusion suite yesterday, when she knew he’d be there receiving what would hopefully be his second-to-last chemo treatment.

  Life sucked—especially after she’d moved to the thoracic oncology clinic and was two floors away from her friends—but she was making it. One slow step at a time, and she counted it a success that she hadn’t crawled to Andrew’s door in the middle of the night to say she’d been an idiot and ask him to reconsider. She’d thought about it more than once, but with some supernatural strength she didn’t know she possessed, she’d stayed away.

  But she’d received news today that he needed to know, and she refused to do it any other way than in person.

  She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, composing herself, and asking God to give him strength.

  Not her. Him.

  She raised her fist and knocked.

  A few seconds later the door swung open, and Andrew’s eyes widened in surprise before a smile spread across his face. It was short-lived, though, when he really looked at her face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.

  “Can I come in?”

  He stepped aside, and she walked past, setting her purse on the table before she sat on the couch. Andrew closed the door and sat down next to her, concern etched into his features.

  “Lauren, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

  She swallowed. “Andrew.” She took his hand in hers. “Jasmine passed away today.”

  He blinked. Stared at her, as if he were solving a difficult math equation in his head.

  Lauren brushed her thumb across the ridges on the back of his hand. “Did you hear me?”

  His sharp intake of breath startled her, and he suddenly stood up. He jerked a hand up to the back of his head and opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but no sound came out. He stepped back, and his knees hit the coffee table with a thump.

  “I…I don’t…” he stuttered. “That makes no sense. I just saw her—” His voice hitched, and he turned to walk into the kitchen.

  Lauren stood up but stayed near the couch. “I’m so sorry, Andrew. I know she meant a lot to you.” She gripped her hands in front of her.

  He turned back around to face her. “How? What happened? She didn’t seem sick…she wasn’t getting worse. I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t know all the details, but she’d recently had chemo and her white count was very low. She went into septic shock, and then multisystem organ failure—”

  “Stop.” His voice was sharp. “Don’t talk to me like I know that medical lingo. I have no fucking clue what you’re saying.” His volume was near yelling, but his voice wavered, and he swiped at his eyes. “What are you saying?”

  Lauren wanted to touch him, the desire to hug him almost overwhelming, but she wasn’t sure what he needed right now. His distress was clear and he’d walked away, and she’d dealt with more than one distraught family member. It was usually best to stay calm, collected, and to the point.

  “She got an infection, and her body couldn’t fight it.”

  Andrew bit his lip, squeezed his eyes shut, and turned his head away. “Dammit.” He suddenly lurched to the side and slammed his palm against the wall. “Fuck!” His forehead hit the surface beside his hand, and his shoulders began to shake.

  Screw the breakup. Lauren went to him, raising her arms to wrap around him, but before she could, he turned his tear-filled eyes on her. His eyes were cold and angry, and she stopped in her tracks.

  “Is this how you’ll be?” he spat. “If I die? Cool and collected, like I meant nothing to you?”

  Lauren was speechless, and she took a step away from him, her mind whirring to process what he’d said. Shock, followed by indignation and disbelief, filled her.

  “Well?” he demanded.

  Her pulse pounded in her ears, hot blood rushing through her veins. Her thoughts were muddled, and time seemed to slow as she prepared to respond. He was in his own state of shock and was lashing out at her, but that didn’t excuse a question like that.

  “Do you remember what I told you about the three categories I put patients in when they die?”

  He stared at her with dark eyes, his lashes wet with tears.

  “If you died,” she choked out, desperation and anguish building within her as she spoke, “I wouldn’t even have a category, because it would destroy me. It wouldn’t be that I couldn’t talk about you, I wouldn’t be able to speak at all. It wouldn’t be that I couldn’t think about you without crying, I wouldn’t be able to do anything without crying. I try to keep my patients at work and separate them from the rest of me to save my sanity and be able to do this job. But you’ve infiltrated every fucking inch of my life. If you died, I don’t even know how I’d exist.”

  Her own cheeks were wet, and she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “I can’t even think about that, Andrew. Don’t ever ask me that again.” Her vision blurred with tears and she snatched up her purse. “Ever.”

  She walked out, slamming the door behind her. She began crying in earnest as she wobbled down the stairs and got inside her car. She put her head against the steering wheel, gripping the wrapped leather tightly in her hands. The passenger-side door opened, and the familiar scent of cedar and spearmint engulfed her. Andrew folded his large body into the car and sat beside her, his long legs bent at the knees, hands resting on his thighs. He leaned back and laid his head against the headrest, watching her for a moment before looking forward.

  Lauren’s tears slowed, and they sat in silence for several minutes. She hadn’t turned the car on, so the only sound was their breathing and the occasional car that drove behind them.

  “You said fuck again,” he said.

  “I did.”

  “I’m starting to think I’m a bad influence on you.”

  “Or maybe you’re bringing out the real me.”

  He shrugged one shoulder at that, and they fell silent again for a moment.

  “I had a date planned,” Andrew said, so quietly she strained to hear. He looked at her with a countenance completely devoid of emotion, but Lauren knew he was suffering inside. “A day date, for Jasmine. I’d set it up with her nurse and spoken to her parents and everything. We were going to take the city bus to one of my law school classes, where they’re having a mock trial—everyone gets pretty riled up and it’s incredibly entertaining. Then we were gonna find one of those cafeteria-style restaurants. You know, where you pick thi
ngs that are lined up behind that big plexiglass window? Then I was going to take her to a high school soccer team practice, just to watch, and then we’d come back to the hospital and eat pizza and watch TV.”

  His head was still leaning back against the seat, and his eyes moved a little to the left. He looked out the window behind Lauren and blinked a few times. “It was the most ridiculous date I’d ever planned. But it was the day she wanted to have. Ride the bus. Sit in class. Eat in the cafeteria, go to soccer after school. Watch TV. Uninteresting and mundane to the rest of us, but in her mind, in her situation, something to be celebrated.”

  Andrew swiped at his eyes and put his forearm on the console, opening his palm, faceup, in invitation. Lauren didn’t hesitate to place her hand in his, and their fingers entwined.

  “You made her last few weeks on earth so much brighter. You have to know that,” Lauren said softly.

  His chin trembled slightly, and he looked away. He took a few deep breaths. The first was shaky, but the last was steady.

  “You don’t have to hide from me.” Lauren squeezed his hand. “When mourning someone who has lost their battle with cancer, I’m the last person you should be embarrassed to cry in front of.”

  His brown eyes met hers again, and though they were still sad, she found they were warm and gentle. “I know.” He swallowed. “But for once, I’d like to be the strong one.”

  Lauren was taken aback. “You’re the strongest man I know.”

  “It doesn’t feel that way. I feel weak and pathetic.”

  “Showing emotion isn’t weak or pathetic. If anything, it defines your strength of character. You have compassion and empathy, traits not all men have. Or at least, many don’t show them. Knowing those things about you only makes me love you more.” She attempted a small smile. “And I love big, strong men.”

  “Men? Plural?”

  “I was speaking in general terms.”

  “Be more specific. But if the words Will Gearhart come out of your mouth, I’m leaving.”

  “You’re definitely stronger than Will. In every sense of the word.”

  He appeared slightly mollified. “I’d kick his ass, that’s for sure. And if I ever happen to run into him, that’s exactly what I’ll do. Actually, I’d start with his dick, then go for that ten-million-dollar right shoulder.”

  Lauren sighed and shook her head. “Anyway.” She tugged at his hand, intending to get back on track. “Are you going to be okay? I thought it might be best if I told you. And I couldn’t do it over the phone.”

  “It sucks, but I’ll be okay.” He dipped his chin a notch lower. “I’m glad you came. Do you want to come back inside?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “You’re probably right.” He closed his eyes for a second. “I’m sorry. For what I said.”

  She didn’t respond right away. She’d usually say something like, That’s okay, or Don’t worry about it. But she kind of thought he should be sorry. He needed to understand the gravity of what he’d asked, and of her response. She needed him to understand how deep her feelings ran, like a cavern in the ocean that had never been explored.

  “I accept your apology, but I need you to understand something.” The question she was about to pose put a lot of faith in his feelings toward her, and she hoped she wasn’t overestimating them. “Think about how you’d feel if I asked you that question. What if I died? Today, on my drive home, I could die. What would that do to you?”

  Andrew’s face paled, and he yanked his hand out of her grasp to grab her face between his palms. His touch was gentle, but his expression was fierce. His eyes searched her features, as if he was making sure she was really here in front of him, breathing and alive. “I can’t…” he rasped. “I can’t even think about that.” He crossed the threshold onto her side of the car and pressed his lips to hers so fast, she gasped into his mouth. “I can’t,” he repeated against her lips, brushing them over and over again with his own.

  She should pull away. But he felt so good and tasted even better. She’d missed him so much, missed this. One of her hands went to the back of his head and the other grasped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, her touch as desperate as his. She opened her mouth and his tongue entered with a groan that sounded ripped from his chest. She stroked his tongue with hers, leaning up and in to him as best she could, wanting to be closer. Closer. Beside him and inside of him, forever and always.

  Even that might not be enough.

  He pressed his forehead against hers. “What are we doing?”

  “I have no idea,” she breathed.

  “Please, come upstairs. I can’t do this anymore. We have to fix this. Figure it out.”

  Could they figure it out? She was willing to try, if he was. She nodded. “Okay.”

  The second they met near the hood of her car, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her against him. Thighs, hips, and chests pressed together, not an inch of space between them. He sighed, deep and heavy, like the breath leaving his lungs was something he’d been holding onto for weeks. He hugged her, his arms a vise around her, as if he was afraid to let go.

  Lauren buried her face in his chest, inhaling deeply, taking in his scent. Her heart and stomach clenched simultaneously, love and desire for this man competing within her, each trying to prove themselves the victor. She traced the hard ridges of muscle in his back with her fingers, loving the murmur of satisfaction he breathed into her hair.

  “We going upstairs?” she asked.

  “Mmm-hmm.” He didn’t budge, his chin resting on her head.

  “Andrew?”

  “Dammit woman, give me a minute.”

  She smiled, turning her face to the side and resting her cheek against his heart. The strong rhythm was soothing, and she let herself relax further in his embrace, content to stay as long as he wanted.

  They finally vacated the sidewalk when an older man walked in their direction pulled by two large dogs on a leash. Andrew held tightly to her hand as they climbed the stairs, and soon they sat on opposite ends of the couch. She’d tried to sit closer, but he pointed to the other end and said he couldn’t focus if she was that close.

  “Fine.” She crossed her arms and then uncrossed them. It wouldn’t help to start this conversation on the defense.

  “Where do we start?” he asked. “I can’t remember a single reason why we’ve been apart that makes any sense.”

  Lauren could think of one. “You should know I got the job,” she said, though as she’d mentioned before, she’d have given it up for him if it had come down to it.

  Andrew’s face lit up. “That’s incredible news. You should know that even if you didn’t, I wouldn’t have let you go back to work for your dad. No matter what, you deserve a job you love, not one you feel obligated to.”

  He was right. She deserved to make her own way—forge her own path. “And I told Dr. Hawthorne about us.”

  His smile faded. “You did?”

  She nodded. “When he offered me the position, I told him there was something I wanted him to know before I officially accepted. For some reason they think I have integrity and that I’m not going around having one-night stands with all my male patients.” She winked at Andrew when he narrowed his eyes, apparently not finding that a bit humorous. “He seemed to understand it was serious and real, and agreed that sometimes these things are out of our control.”

  “I’m really happy for you. Have you told your dad?”

  She groaned. “Not yet.”

  “That’s fine. We can do it together, when I’m done with chemo and you take me down to introduce me as the boyfriend.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  He raised one back. “I have to say things like that, you know. I have to think about the future like it’s an actuality for me. If I don’t, I’ll go back to w
here I was the day we broke up. To wanting to protect you from loving a man who might be dying, and who might leave you soon. Deep down, I know that’s possible. But for now, until I hear the words terminal or incurable, I have to believe I’m going to be okay and that I’ll be able to give you a long, happy life.”

  Lauren held up a hand. “That right there? I’m not doing that. I’m choosing you as you are, unknowns and all. I meant what I said, that I don’t need you, Andrew. I don’t need a man to provide for me. It’s not your responsibility to give me a certain kind of life—I can do it on my own. I already am. I want you for no other reason than because I love you. Just being with you makes my life better. So please, let that go. I won’t accept the thought that you’ll try to push me away again—”

  “I wasn’t the only one pushing,” he interrupted, but she shook her head and kept going.

  “I’m in this because I love you, and we’re great together. I want to be with you whether you’re rich or poor, healthy or sick, happy or sad. You make me happier than I’ve ever been. I’ve never known you without cancer, do you realize that? That’s part of the Andrew Bishop package I chose from the start, and I’d do it all over again. Every time.”

  A genuine smile had formed on his lips as she spoke, but at the end an ornery gleam entered his eye. “You still haven’t seen the whole package, you know. You might change your mind…or be the happiest woman on the planet. You sure you want to take that risk?”

  “Andrew. Be serious.” Besides, she had some idea what she was dealing with, and she didn’t think he’d disappoint.

  He sobered. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you.” He broke his own rule and scooted closer to her, gently cupping a hand around the back of her neck. “But what I felt, just now? When you told me about Jasmine? It was terrible. And I know she’s going in the backpack category for me, because she’ll stay with me, in whatever small part, forever. And if the pain you’d be in, if I lose this battle, is like you say and will be so much worse than that? I…” He gripped her neck tighter. “I don’t know if I can bear doing that to you.”