Читать книгу ROMeANTICALLY CHALLENGED - Marina Adair - Страница 12

Chapter 6

Her mom often called her stubborn. Whereas Annie liked to think of herself as determined. But as determined as she was not to lose another second of sleep over the man in the glow-in-the-dark boxers, when the first hint of sun peeked through her window, she found herself wide awake.

Every time she’d closed her eyes, her breathing would become ridiculously erratic, her heart nearing stroke level.

“He’s not all that,” she said while she lay there until the combination of the comforter and her hot breath turned her bed into a sauna and she felt as if she’d suffocate.

“Damn him.” She threw the covers back.

There was no way she could face him. She’d never be able to unsee all of... that. She’d never be able to look at a Calvin Klein ad and not have some kind of visceral experience. And she sure as hell couldn’t, under any circumstances, let him know that he’d gotten to her.

Nope, no man had the power to derail her life. And the one outside her bedroom door was not going to steal another moment’s peace from her.

She climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom.

Feeling like a zombie, she took her time in the shower—letting the hot water run until she’d emptied the water heater. It didn’t help much. Her eyes were still gritty, her brain sluggish, and she ended up washing her hair with shaving cream. Which meant that every time she caught a whiff of her hair her nipples tightened.

Annie didn’t know how she did it, but somehow she managed to talk herself out of crawling back into bed with trusty old B.O.B. Instead, she changed into jeans and a T-shirt, then, afraid he was still parked outside her door as he had been when she’d checked earlier, she did what any mature woman in her situation would do.

She quietly climbed out the window and ran for her car, sure to rev the engine a few times and wish him a long and loud good morning honk just in case he was still asleep. But as she peeled out of the driveway, an irritating thought jumped into her head.

Had she outsmarted him, or played right into his hand?

* * *

It was a new experience to go unrecognized at her place of work, and Annie relished her anonymity at Rome General. With her scrubs in her bag and a bouquet of wildflowers in hand, she wasn’t dressed the part of physician’s assistant.

In Connecticut, that wouldn’t have mattered. She would have been spotted, and approached, by a dozen colleagues and patients before she’d even cleared the lobby. There would be questions—so many questions—about the wedding, her feelings, Clark, until eventually the inquisitors would arrive at the questions everyone wanted to ask: Why did she think Clark had called it quits?

If Annie knew the answer to that, then she wouldn’t have had to relocate for perspective.

Here in Rome, Annie was an unknown. A fresh face, able to walk the halls of the ICU undetected. Able to focus on providing the kind of unconditional nurturing that had drawn Annie to medicine in the first place. She wanted to spend her days proving that every person deserved to be cared for.

Today, that person was Gloria, a retired school bus driver who needed a little extra in the care department. Could benefit in some support to help her overcome her fear of hospitals long enough to have her gallbladder removed. Annie wasn’t there to read Gloria’s chart or take her pulse. She had come to the hospital hours before her shift began simply to hold the older woman’s hand.

No one deserved to feel alone.

The ICU was uncharacteristically quiet as Annie made her way to Gloria’s room. She lay in the bed closest to the window, her eyes closed, still coming out of the anesthesia. Annie silently walked over to the window.

Outside, the sun was radiant, shining through fluffy white clouds and blue skies. A slight breeze swayed the crape myrtles that lined Main Street, resembling dual rows of bright pink lollipops stretching all the way to the shoreline, where the whitecaps of the Atlantic kissed the sand.

“Are those forget-me-nots?” a sleep roughened voice asked.

Annie turned to find Gloria coming to, her cheeks warm with shy gratitude.

“And some lantana.” Annie’s hands brushed the brilliant red and orange umbrella-shaped blooms.

“My favorites,” Gloria rasped, and Annie poured her a glass of water, then held a straw to Gloria’s laugh-lined lips. “How did you know?”

“Delores at The Watering Can might have mentioned it.”

“They’re beautiful.” Gloria’s smile turned serious as she checked the door. “No one’s looking, go check that chart there and tell me when it looks like I’ll be going home. If it doesn’t say today, then let’s do a little fixing until it does.”

“I am not looking at your chart, because I’m not your surgeon.” Plus, they both already knew Gloria wasn’t going home today. Gallbladder surgery was usually an outpatient procedure, but Gloria would be kept for two days because there was no one at home to care for her.

And if there was one thing being adopted had taught Annie, it was that traditional families didn’t have a lock on from-the-heart caring.

Annie placed the vase of bright flowers on the empty table and took the seat next to the bed. She wasn’t just the day’s first visitor. She’d be the only visitor.

“How are you feeling?” Annie asked, taking Gloria’s frail hand between her own.

The older woman gave a tentative smile, her fingers delivering a warm squeeze. “I’m better now.”

Gloria silently watched Annie, as if wanting to cling to her company and enjoy the feeling of not waking alone, but her lashes soon began to slip lower until finally coming to rest on her cheeks.

Annie waited until she could hear even breathing, then headed into the hallway to call Gloria’s sisters in Canada. Being the bearer of good news and giving loved ones peace of mind was a highlight of the job. Witnessing the love shared between family members was always so fascinating and Gloria’s sisters did not disappoint. Even two thousand miles and an international border hadn’t diminished the deep bond among the three older women.

The connection between siblings had always been as interesting to Annie as it had been isolating. She’d been born the youngest of three in Vietnam but raised as an only child in America. She had no recollection of her sisters, but even before Annie had heard her adoption story, she had always felt the absence of her siblings.

Every adoptee had their own story, retold around the family table every Adoption Day. In Annie’s house, Adoption Day was as big a celebration as birthdays or Thanksgiving. And as her family cuddled up on the couch, and her mom opened the love-worn pages of her adoption album, Annie would find herself unable to breathe until they arrived at the part about her sisters.

She didn’t know their names or their ages, only that there were three in total. All with shiny black hair and rich coffee-colored eyes, and all sharing the same dimples when they smiled. And for most of her life, the knowledge that they were out there brought some much-needed solace when the loneliness tucked her in to bed at night.

Was the love of a sibling more powerful than the love of another person because it was preordained from the moment of birth? If so, then what did it mean for someone such as Annie who was chosen by strangers to receive their love.

Annie had always thought that love, in any form, could be nurtured into the kind of unbreakable connection Gloria and her sisters shared. It was why she held so tightly to those in her life, because even when love changed forms, it was still love. Wasn’t it?

After last night, when Emmitt had accused her of being a pushover, she began to wonder if maybe she was willing to hold on to love even when it was no longer healthy. Her talk with Clark had felt anything but healthy, leaving her feeling discounted and used.

And that wouldn’t do. Not unless Annie was trading in her lab coat to become a Professional Practice Fiancée. So after ending the wellness call with Gloria’s sisters, Annie gave herself a stern pep talk and made another pressing call—this one for her own peace of mind.

Clark was the one who said, above all else, he wanted to remain friends. Well, he was going to get his chance to prove himself. And Annie would get her chance to prove that remaining friends with an ex wasn’t only doable, it could be healthy if done right.

Afraid she’d chicken out, Annie stepped into an empty exam room and immediately dialed. Her heart raced faster with each ring, until it stopped cold when he answered.

“I am so glad you called.” His voice was bright and cheerful, as if he’d slept like a king last night. As if she were being silly and the past few months had changed nothing between them, leaving Annie painfully confused.

“You are?” She’d imagined this call going differently. In fact, she’d made a mental list of approximately ten thousand things to do instead of calling Clark—labeling sample tubes, buying doughnuts in desperate need of a home, fixing the leaky faucet in exam room nine—but it turned out she hadn’t needed to.

Annie was about to set some boundaries and, it seemed, Clark was ready to acknowledge them.

“Of course. I wanted to apologize about last night. I got off the phone and felt like a dick. Emotions were high, and I wasn’t really thinking before I spoke. And you called it, there was no patient waiting. I was avoiding the inevitable.”

“I think I have been too,” she admitted. “Last night was an awkward situation, and we both could have handled it better.” Annie thought back to what Emmitt had said. Make it simple, straightforward, and leave zero room for misunderstanding. “But the only way things will start to feel normal between us again is to clear the air.”

Look at her go, confidently putting it out there. No softening or sugarcoating, just stating the facts and clarifying the game plan.

“You can’t believe how happy that makes me,” he said. “I not only felt like a dick, I felt as if I left you hanging. Afterward, I talked with Molly-Leigh, and she pointed out just how badly I’d blown it. I knew I needed to make things right. So I stopped by the post office this morning on my way in to work.”

“Wow, Clark, that’s great.” And it had been so easy. “I thought you’d Venmo it along with the invitation money and cake deposit, which I got this morning by the way, so thanks for that. But if you’d prefer to settle the rest by check, that totally works too.”

It would take a couple more days than she’d planned, and the bank might not clear a check of that size right away, but come Monday, she’d be cuddled on her own couch with a bottle of wine and a large pepperoni and green olive pizza all to herself.

“A check? What are you talking about?”

“The deposit for the venue. You dropped it in the mail, right?”

“What I put in the mail was an invitation to the wedding,” he said as if she had somehow lost her mind. “We settled the venue issue last night.”

“Actually, no. You said it would make things easier if you could wait until after the wedding to pay me back. I said that didn’t work for me. It still doesn’t. I need the money, this week.”

“See, this is what I’ve been talking about. You and me, we’re not the same as we used to be. You never used to freak about things like a deposit or a dress. It’s like we’re... I don’t know...”

“Broken up?”

He ignored this. “Ever since you moved, it feels as if we’re off somehow. And you know how much I hate it when we aren’t on the same frequency. I mean, we vibe, that’s what we do.”

Surely, Annie misunderstood. She was talking about squaring up, paying off debts so she could move on—literally—and he was using words like vibe and we when there hadn’t been a “we” in months.

“We don’t have a frequency, Clark. When you changed the setting from KANW to KMLM, ‘we’ were no longer ‘vibing,’ which is why I have an issue with your keeping my money for another five weeks. Five weeks. I’m not freaking out, I’m moving on. So inviting me to your wedding is completely inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate?” He, honest to God, sounded hurt by her words. “For the past six years, you have been the single most important relationship in my life. Nothing will change that.”

“The ring on Molly-Leigh’s finger says otherwise.”

“So I’m getting married. So what? Molls knows how much I rely on you,” he said, and Annie wondered how she’d ever considered him a sweet talker. “One day you’ll get married too—that doesn’t mean we can’t be each other’s rock.”

“That’s exactly what it means.”

“Look, I didn’t take your call to argue, I wanted to tell you that I blew it last night, not extending the invitation properly. Nothing would make me happier than for you to share in that special day with us,” he said.

“You handed over your future happiness to another woman, Clark. I’m no longer responsible for your feelings.”

“But you’ve put so much into this wedding, Annie,” he went on as if she hadn’t even spoken. “You deserve to enjoy the product of all the hard work. I invited your parents and assumed you’d know that invitation extends to your whole family, but I wanted to make sure I was clear. We want you at the wedding, Anh Bon.”

She cringed. “You invited my parents?”

“Of course. How could I not? Maura’s like a second mother to me.”

Betrayal stuck to her ribs and pushed at her sternum. “Because she’s my mom. And if you invite her, you know she’ll feel obligated to say yes?”

“She should say yes and so should you. Even Molly-Leigh hopes that you’ll come. She told me to pass along that she’s saved you a seat at our table for the rehearsal dinner, so we can catch up. I’ve missed you.”

Annie closed her eyes to keep the pain from spilling over. The only reason a woman wouldn’t mind her man’s very recent ex-fiancée coming to her retrofitted wedding was if she knew for certain the ex posed no threat. And while Annie had zero romantic interest in Clark now, it still stung to think his love for her had been so superficial that it was insignificant.

It was devastating that a single word summed up six years of her life. The most important romantic relationship she’d ever had was insignificant.

She tried to get angry, tried to picture Emmitt handing her that sticky note, but that one word seemed to take all the steam out of her. She wished she could be the woman to tell Clark to fuck off, but what was the point when her love was nothing more than a passing note in the life of the man she’d thought to marry.

This was why Annie subscribed to the head-down, pick-your-battles method of coping. She was about to turn the big three-oh and still hadn’t found the right battle. But she knew in her heart, this wasn’t it.

“I wish you well, Clark, I really do, but I won’t be at your wedding. And I can’t be your go-to person anymore. It hurts, and as long as you still have the power to hurt me, this won’t work,” she said, leaning forward and resting her forehead on the exam table. “I need some space. Some time away from you, the wedding, my parents, so I can figure things out.”

Time away to figure out why she kept choosing people who didn’t choose her back. To discover how she’d gone from blushing bride to Hartford’s resident PPF.

More important, it was critical for her to understand what major life lesson she still had to learn to avoid ever finding herself in this situation again.

She thought back to her grandparents’ house. To the wedding picture that hung above the fireplace in the living room.

As a child, Annie would wait until everyone was asleep before sneaking into the living room to stare at the photo in wonder. She used to believe it was her grandmother’s dress that captivated her. As she grew older, Annie realized it was the way her grandparents looked at each other that made the risk of getting caught out of bed worth it.

Even through the photograph’s patina of age, the unbreakable connection between the two had been visible. The love, mind-boggling. They were each other’s person.

Clark had never looked at her that way. And, if she were being honest, she hadn’t looked at him that way either. Annie feared she’d fallen victim to the fantasy of what marriage and happily ever after would mean for her.

She was too old to put stock in fantasy and fairy tales.

Especially after she’d accidentally come across Clark’s Insta feed where he was looking at Molly-Leigh with the same adoration as her grandparents in that photo. It proved that a picture could be worth a thousand words.

Or at least as many as Annie needed to close all doors leading to Clark.

She’d closed a lot of doors over her lifetime. Just once, she wanted to be standing on the other side with someone holding her hand when the door slammed shut. Looking at her the way Grandpa Cleve always looked at Grandma Hannah.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment, just listened to the other breathe. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable or weighted down with tension as Annie had imagined it would be. And the ache that was always wrapped around her like a leash, yanking her around at will, was gone. In fact, this was the lightest she’d felt since Clark had dropped to a knee and she’d said yes.

“Can you give me that?” she asked.

“Time? I can give you all the time you need,” he said with sudden pep in his tone. “Just don’t take too long. The wedding is right around the corner and—”

“I already said no.”

“—the invite’s already in the mail.”

“Doesn’t matter. You said you were waiting for my answer. Which, unless there’s ten grand in that invite, is absolutely not.”

“I’ll see you at the wedding, Anh-Bon.”

“It’s not happening.” Silence. “Clark?” But he’d hung up.

“Damn it!” She hung up, too, then immediately redialed his number. It went directly to voice mail. By the time his greeting ended she was fuming.

“Friends don’t ask friends to go to stolen weddings, Clark. So, no, I’m not going to your wedding. And I need that deposit back now. Not next month, not at my stolen wedding, not even when the sun hits at the right moment and the hall looks like it’s illuminated by a thousand candles. I need it back this week or—”

Her phone chimed that she had a new event on her calendar. She glanced down at the phone’s screen and swore.

Pursing her lips, she opened tomorrow’s calendar and her fingers punched a new event into the screen.

Only moments after adding Clark to the event, it disappeared. Only to reappear on the day of the wedding—with her as the recipient. She didn’t even have time to scream before a text appeared.

“She’s not my mom and stop calling me Anh-Bon!”