Unexpected: A Love Story

by J. Nichole

  I could hear him moving through the house. “Moni, don’t let your mama worry you. When you are ready for babies we’d be happy to spoil them.” He laughed then said, “Until then, do you.” I wondered which of the boys he mentored had taught him that phrase.

  “Thanks, Daddy. I cooked a good meal myself this evening.” I looked over at the kitchen that held all the evidence, still needing to be cleaned.

  “I bet it was delicious. Did you share it with anyone?” I was surprised by his question because he didn’t usually ask about anyone else. He just knew I was living the good life solo. “A meal is always better when it’s shared,” he said, not waiting for me to respond.

  “You’re right, Daddy.” I could hear his smile, one that wasn’t perfect, but always wide and bright. “I love y’all, call you this weekend.”

  The dishes were piled high in the sink, and all the leftovers away in the refrigerator. I thought about the conversation, disregarding my mom’s nonsense but considering my dad’s wisdom. I loaded the pots in the dishwasher and grabbed a container adding in the smothered chicken and sides carefully. Once packed, I grabbed my purse.

  During the week, the bar closed earlier and it was mostly empty. I looked behind the bar as I carefully approached. I saw the brunette leaned over picking up a glass from a paying customer. Blue-eyes was not around, and I hoped the brunette wasn’t there alone. I hadn’t considered Nick not being there as I drove across town, but now that I was there I thought how my idea could fail.

  The brunette approached and smiled before she said, “Violetta?” I didn’t plan on having a drink, but it would be even more odd if I came and didn’t drink.

  “Could I have a Sprite, please?” She nodded and I asked, “Is Nick here tonight?”

  She looked behind her and said, “If he hasn’t snuck out the back, let me check.” She placed the Sprite in front of me and ducked her head into the kitchen door.

  I took the straw in my mouth and focused on the words I wanted to say in case he was there, something else I didn’t think about as I drove. I groaned to myself knowing how unprepared I was for the spontaneous revelation.

  “Alabama,” I heard him before I saw him. He had interrupted my focus and I still wasn’t prepared.

  The container of food was carefully placed on the bar between us. I looked down at it before I said, “I found a couple of hours to cook today.” His eyebrows hitched. “And it’s delicious.” I smiled. “I hope it can serve as a peace offering. I apologize for minimizing your work, and not appreciating your sage advice.” I damn near patted myself on my shoulder; those words were both heartfelt and genuine. But even more, they produced the sexiest grin on Nick’s face.

  He removed the top of the container and inspected the food inside. “I accept your apology, but...” My heart fell and I knew the rejection was coming. How’d I expect some damn food to reconcile my offensive words? “I’ll be the judge on how delicious it is.” My eyes met his and I released the air from my lungs. “We are closing soon.” He watched me without continuing. He didn’t ask me to stay, and didn’t remind me that I needed to leave.

  I looked around me and realized the bar was cleared. “Care for company while you close up?” I asked.

  He held up two fingers. “Only if you have time.” One finger was put down. “And if we agree to not offend each other.” He lowered his hand and I nodded my head in agreement, making myself comfortable on the barstool. “I’ll be right back.” He grabbed the container and went to the kitchen.

  I sipped my Sprite as he and the brunette went through their routine. Tonight, the stereo was on, and it was low but audible. I sang along with some of the pop songs I could recognize. The brunette said goodnight before she left, and I was excited because I knew that meant Nick would be wrapping up soon.

  The food container was set down on the bar, this time without the top, and steam escaped the dish. With a fork firm in his hand he dug in, and I watched as he chewed carefully. He didn’t offer any criticism or compliments until he finished a few bites, and I could relate to the long wait chefs experienced on cooking shows.

  “If it’s this good after a trip in the microwave, I’m willing to bet it was amazing hot off the stove.” He placed his fork down. “Cooked with love. Thank you.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” My mind was racing with things I could say to him but I was cautious. I didn’t want to offer to cook for him, or invite him to my house because I didn’t know when I’d have time to do it.

  “Cooking for a man is intimate.” He looked at me and I wanted to tell him how intimate we had already been, each night, when I thought of him as I pleasured myself. “But what would I have to do to get a home cooked meal, straight off the stove?”

  My schedule and his didn’t exactly align; each night I’d come here he’d been here. “A wise man once told me, I need a balance in my life.” I smiled thinking about the other wise words I received. “But when are you”—I pointed to him—“not working?”

  “I’m not working Sundays and Mondays.” He pointed to himself. “But I make time for things that are important to me.” My inner hopeless romantic shouted, ‘Girl, did he just say you’re important to him?’ “Cooking for me shouldn’t be our first date though, my mama wouldn’t approve. How about I take you out somewhere?”

  “Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.” We had four days before he’d have a day off and those four days would be torture but I played it cool and asked, “Sunday?”

  “Sunday,” he confirmed. “Maybe we could exchange phone numbers too, get to know each other before then.” That hopeless romantic was jumping again, doing backflips. I recited my phone number as he pressed the numbers into his phone. “I’ll call you so you have my number too.”

  I saved his number in my phone and sighed when I read the time. “I should probably get moving and let you get home.”

  He tapped on the container and said, “Now that I don’t have to worry about dinner, my night will be easier.” He winked. “But I’m sure you have places to be early in the morning.” He was right, I did, and unlike today it was a busy day at the clinic.

  “One second and I’ll walk you out.” He returned with the cover to the dish, a backpack, and a motorcycle helmet. Motorcycle helmet. Well damn, seeing his sexy ass on the back of a bike may take my pussy all the way out.

  I didn’t ask the obvious as we exited the bar and he locked up. He opened my car door, waiting for me to get in before I said, “Talk to you soon, Nick.”

  “Be safe getting home.” Those were the words I should have shared with him considering he was the one hopping on a bike. I waited for him to get on his bike and drive away before I left the parking lot. My chest raced watching him zip out of the lot. I could only imagine the adrenaline he felt as he rode.

  Chapter 6

  Nick: Have a peaceful day.

  I read, and re-read, Nick’s morning text, and although it was simple it made me smile. I had finally made it into the clinic when it flashed on my screen. My morning routine was rushed; I’m not used to staying up late and needing to wake early. By the time I got into my apartment, Nick had called me. We chatted about meaningful topics—favorite movies, food, and music—before my eyes were heavy and I had to admit I was tired.

  The screaming infant in room one woke me up though, jilting my nerves with her shrieks. “Appears to be an ear infection,” I said to the mother nearly on the brink of tears herself. “You can give her a dose of Tylenol, every four to six hours to help with the pain.” I wanted to tell her she should take a shot of something stronger to help her get through the screams, but I kept that to myself.

  I continued entering and leaving patient rooms for hours before I had the chance to look at my phone. When I did I sent a quick text to Nick.

  Monica: It’ll be more peaceful around five o’clock.

  Monica: Hope your day has been uneventful.

  Before I could wait for a reply, Dr. Slater passed and asked me to meet him i
n his office at the end of the day. Along with multiple patients with differing symptoms, I had to deal with the anticipation of what Dr. Slater could need. We often chatted throughout the day, about patients or random topics, but he rarely asked me to meet him in his office.

  Maybe him and Susan were calling it quits. But why would he tell me that? I shook my head. Oh shit, what if he isn’t providing me a recommendation? I thought as I examined the teenage boy for his sports physical. “You’re good to go.” I smiled. “Hope your swim season goes well.” The kid, as he explained it, was a champion swimmer. If he made it to Michael Phelps status I could tout that I once examined him. Not a huge accomplishment, maybe I’d just say I met him. Much better.

  Severe eczema was a common condition I saw in kids at the clinic. The three-year-old was no different in her symptoms, itchy skin, rashes, and because her parents couldn’t prevent her from scratching, she had fissures and open wounds. While I examined her she began scratching and I too felt I needed to scratch but fought the urge.

  She was the last patient of the day, and her mom had a million questions, ones I patiently answered. “I’ll prescribe you steroid cream you can apply. There are also over-the-counter oatmeal bath treatments you could use during bath time that could ease her itchiness.” She thanked me, and her and her daughter exited the office.

  I took a deep breath before I entered Dr. Slater’s office. “Have a seat,” he offered when I stepped inside. “Today was a busy one, right?” I nodded my head and my body responded with a sigh as my feet and back had a rest. “I know pediatrics is not your specialty of choice, but I did want to remind you that you’re doing an amazing job.” I thanked him, and I was relieved because he couldn’t not provide a recommendation after saying that.

  “I didn’t have a chance to speak with you after the barbecue. One of my colleagues has a clinic in San Jose, and he’ll be looking for a resident at the end of the year.” I’d also be looking to become a resident at the end of the year. But pediatrics is not where I wanted to be. I looked up at Dr. Slater, his smooth skin glistening and his teeth sparkling through his taught smile. I wished he were telling me he was leaving Susan, ‘cause he could have gotten it that day.

  “He asked about my brightest and most dedicated students, and I told him about you. Told him you’d come with a glowing recommendation, but that you weren’t considering pediatrics.” He smirked.

  It was my turn to speak, and I didn’t know how to tell him my feelings hadn’t changed. I still was not considering pediatrics, and San Jose wasn’t on my short list. “A recommendation into your specialty is affirming, and I’m beyond grateful.” I chose my next words carefully, “After my next rotation I’ll be in a better position to select my specialty.” My next rotation was in obstetrics, here in Sacramento, and if I had my choice I’d stay here in Sacramento.

  Dr. Slater laughed and nodded his head knowingly. “You have time to make a decision. Just thought you should know.” I thanked him again and we discussed the patients from the day, before I was leaving the office exhausted, mentally and physically.

  Luckily, I still had leftovers and I warmed them before showering and getting situated in front of my notebooks. To maintain my focus I put my phone on Do Not Disturb during my study sessions. Today was no different, but I read the other texts Nick sent in response earlier, including the one he just sent with wishes that my evening would be better than my day.

  Who would have thought the bartender from Georgia would be this kind? If his bedroom skills matched his empathy and kindness, he’d be a keeper. Keeper?

  I switched my phone to DND, and tossed it on the couch beside me. I flipped the page and read over my notes, trying to drive away thoughts of Nick being relationship material. I was getting way ahead of myself. Maybe he was just looking for a sex buddy too, and was being nice till he got in my panties.

  The days that followed began and ended with pleasant morning texts and late night conversations, and by Sunday morning his morning text had me geeked about our date.

  Nick: Finally Sunday.

  We agreed to meet downtown that afternoon for a late lunch, and I had spent all Saturday, day and night, getting ahead of my study schedule, so as he said, Sunday could go with the flow.

  By the time I walked into the restaurant, one he selected because my options were limited to the Thai spot and the taqueria I frequented, my dress was stuck to my breasts and pits. I fanned myself as I stood at the hostess stand stumbling over my words, “I’m meeting, he should be, he’s tall.”

  The hostess giggled and said, “I think he’s right this way, follow me.” I walked behind her telling myself to calm the fuck down. It wasn’t like I didn’t already know him, or I had never been on a date before. Yeah it had been a while, but damn.

  He stood from the table and pulled my chair out when I approached. “This is a new spot.” His eyes gazed around the room. “We can experience it together, for the first time.” I swallowed hard and nodded. His eyes connected with mine and he asked, “You okay?” I nodded again and grabbed my glass of water, glad he had arrived before me and water was on the table.

  After a long sip, I said, “I don’t know why my body is freaking out right now.” I plucked my shirt from my chest, waving the material to cool my body. “Guess it’s been a while since I’ve been out,” I offered as he watched from across the table.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, his eyes wide open. “But your personality makes you so real.” I squinted my eyes, because I wasn’t following. “Your honesty is refreshing. It almost feels like you say exactly what’s on your mind.” He laughed and I had to join him ‘cause if he thought he was getting me unfiltered, he’d be surprised to hear my innermost thoughts.

  When the waiter came to our table for our drink orders Nick offered to order my glass of wine. “We can add more to your list of favorite wines,” he said after the waiter walked away.

  “Tell me more about being a bartender,” I said. I wasn’t judging his career choice but I was interested in knowing why he was all the way in California, and bartending after college. He winced and my eyes bulged. “No judgment. I promise.”

  He began telling me about his start as a student, at the same bar. “I attended UC Davis for undergrad and my master’s.” I knew he had attended college, but I didn’t know he had finished his master’s too. “I’ve always wanted to be an entrepreneur after watching my parents work for the same company for years, and practically be miserable. Paid, but miserable.” I understood that. Not many people were excited about the work they did. “After working at the bar for many years and it never feeling like a job, I decided I wanted to open a bar.”

  “That’s cool, actually. I’m sure the environment keeps it exciting.” He nodded and told me how they had regulars but he was always meeting new people and listening to different stories of travels, woes, or celebrations.

  “And most of the time to constant music. Mostly, decent music.” He grinned as I took a sip of the wine he ordered, and my face screwed up when the lack of sweetness hit me. “The Chardonnay pairs well with seafood.”

  “That makes sense, but until my food arrives I’ll just stick to this water.” I chuckled. “I may be pushing my palate.”

  He wagged his head. “Maybe, but just wait till our food comes out.” We had both ordered a fillet of fish. “Before I graduated with my master’s, I spoke with the owner of the bar and let him know what I wanted to do, and he set me up with investors.”

  I grabbed my chest, and smiled widely. For some reason, I felt a sense of pride for him. “That’s amazing.”

  “It is, and in the meantime, I have been working at the bar and learning about the back of the house from the owner. What about you? What’s next once you finish med school?”

  “I still have to do my residency, then I’ll join an established practice, I hope.” Our food arrived and the plate looked amazing. The fillet was accompanied by green beans and garlic mashed potatoes. But I tasted a bite of
my fish then took a sip of the wine. A small moan escaped my mouth and I covered it quickly.

  “Oh no, don’t be bashful now,” Nick said reaching over and grabbing my hand away from my mouth. His hand, soft and smooth, lingered over my fingers before he pulled his hand away. “Good pairing, right?”

  “Yes, I knew that wine pairings were a thing. I’ve been to a couple of wineries and tastings, but I had never considered what I was eating when I ordered wine.” I watched him take a bite, his fork entering his mouth then sliding between his lips. A moan didn’t escape his mouth, but it almost did mine, again. His lips looked soft and supple, like they’d cause all types of havoc on my body. “How do you like it?” I asked.

  He took another bite and wagged his head. “Not bad actually.” We continued eating and talking. After our plates were cleared from the table and our check paid, I wasn’t ready to part ways with Nick. He asked, “Do you have room for dessert?” I told him I always had room for dessert. “There’s this amazing dessert shop.”

  “Say no more.” I stood from my seat and looked over my shoulder to be sure he was following, and he was. He caught up with me, his hand to my lower back as he opened the door. “Such a gentleman,” I said as we stood outside.

  “My car is across the street.” I pointed. “Should we ride together?” I offered.

  He grabbed my hand, interlacing our fingers, and said, “We should, but I’ll drive.” I paused because the thought of being on a motorcycle was sexy as hell, to watch. Riding wasn’t my thing, these thick hips and ass probably didn’t need to be on the back of a bike.

  Besides that, I had on a dress. I looked down grabbing the hem of it and said, “But my dress.” I had hoped that’d be enough to deter our bike ride.