Twenty-seven
Trinity
O n the long drive back to Vancouver, the road stretches ahead like a chasm between what I had in Paradise and the emptiness waiting at home. The hum of traffic feels louder than ever, and my thoughts keep circling back to Anita, the intruder who shattered the morning’s peace. Why didn’t Greyson tell me she was coming? Was it a lapse or something worse? The memory of his arms around me last night, the way he whispered my name like a promise, feels like a cruel contradiction now. I want to believe him, but the doubt Anita planted refuses to let go.
Shaking my head, I try to dismiss the gnawing questions, to focus on the road, the mountains rising around me as I cross the threshold back into city life. It’s only when I reach the familiar outline of the Vancouver suburbs that a different kind of panic sets in. I left my phone at my mother’s when I stopped to say goodbye.
For a moment, I consider turning back, but then resignation settles over me. I’m already here, and it’s just as well. I don’t want to hear the apologies, the excuses, or the silence that might be even worse. Greyson, Tarryn, my mother—they all feel like parts of a dream I’m desperate to wake from.
Then it comes to me. I’ll call Lakeview and give them my office number since I’ll be living at work this week. And I can order a new phone. My old one was three years old. I’ll handle that once I’m done with the software migration.
So I press on, ignoring what I left behind and trying to focus on being back in the bustling city, where starting tomorrow morning, I can throw myself into work and the parts of my life I can still control.
The next morning, as I head into my office, the city crawls at a snail’s pace, each red light mocking me as I inch forward. Four lights to get through this intersection—ridiculous. I can’t help but long for the simplicity of my mother’s dining room table, where I could walk to work, sometimes in my pajamas. Now, I’m back to my hour-plus commute.
“Need to swing by Martin Wireless,” I mutter as I work through my mental to-do list. I need to be reachable all the time. Any other thought was just avoidance. As of now, Lakeview can’t reach me when I’m not at the office, and that’s just not responsible, no matter who I do or don’t want to talk to.
Finally, I pull into the familiar employee lot at North Vancouver General Hospital. Stepping out, I stretch, trying to shake off the tension from the commute. I sling my bag over my shoulder and set my sights on the hospital’s entrance, steeling myself for the final push on the electronic medical records migration.
My cubicle is waiting for me as I enter—a photo of my parents and me smiling from the desk, a stack of reports waiting for my attention. I tuck my personal effects into their usual nooks before heading to the communal freezer, frozen meal in hand, my plan for the late nights ahead.
Back at my desk, I’m greeted by a wave of enthusiasm. “Trinity Blaine! You’re back just in time,” Andy exclaims, his grin wide. “I’m so glad you’re here!” He buzzes around me, pulling me toward the center of activity. “We’re so close, Trinity. This final push for the migration—it’s all hands on deck.”
“Happy to be here.” I smile, but I really can’t put words into how I feel.
“Do you have a minute?” he asks after a moment, gesturing to his office.
“Of course.” The words are automatic, my feet already moving me toward his office before my mind fully registers the interruption. The door closes behind us with a soft click.
“Before your day gets started, I wanted to ask how your mother is doing?” he says, a softness to his voice that tugs at the freshly stitched wounds in my heart.
“Memory care,” I say. “They’re managing her condition, but it’s tough when she doesn’t recognize me.”
He nods. “My father went through the same thing,” he confides. “I get it. And I appreciate you being here, but if you need to get back to Paradise for a while, we’ll understand.”
But how can I leave? Work is the only constant I have left. “I still need this job,” I admit, voicing my fear—unemployment, drifting, losing the ground beneath my feet.
“Maybe we can find some projects you can do remotely,” he offers.
That’s generous, but it’s also a detour from the path I’ve planned for myself. Running a department, running a hospital—that’s the dream. And I don’t know how to waver from it. Right now, I’m standing at a crossroads with no signs to guide me.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “I have a lot to think about.” Despite everything, he’s at least given me an option. And that’s more than I had before.
“I know you’re ambitious, but someone once told me life is all about juggling balls,” he adds. “Some, like your career, are rubber. When you drop them, they bounce. But others, like your family, are glass. When you drop them, they shatter. You’ve had a tough year. Think about what you really want.”
His revelation roots me in my seat. I open my mouth, but then close it again. I don’t know what I want to do. “Thank you. That gives me a lot to consider.”
Andy smiles and slaps his hands on his thighs. “Well, you’ve got a big week ahead. Let me know what you need from me. You’ve got this.”
I nod, and his rallying cry sends me back to my cubicle with renewed purpose. It’s time to dive back into the work that’s been waiting for me. I’m ready.
I plop into my chair, and the red voicemail light winks at me. Guess I should start there. I press the playback button, bracing for the onslaught of demands and questions, but it’s Liz’s voice that fills the silence first, a bit concerned, asking about dinner plans we never made. I had called and told her about Anita and that I was returning to Vancouver, but then I left my phone and she never heard back from me.
The message ends, and another begins, this one ensnaring my heart in a tangle of emotions. Greyson . His voice stirs a storm within me, and tears pool in my eyes.
“Trinity, I’m sorry for calling your work. I… I’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he starts, his voice laced with regret. “Anita had no right to do what she did, asking you to leave. It was wrong. I can’t get through on your cell phone, so I’m just going to tell you this here…”
My breath catches as he delves into their history, unraveling tales of youthful promises with Anita, vows that lingered like ghosts. I press a trembling hand against my heart.
“I should have told you about her, about all of it,” he admits. His voice cracks. “She’s not my fiancée. She had a fob to my condo because she never gave it back when she left three years ago. I miss you. I don’t want us to be over. Please call me.”
I have to take a moment to breathe when the message ends. He’s giving me a chance to bridge the gap between us, but the question remains—can I do it?
We knew my return to Vancouver was a countdown to our end. My life is here. His life is there. Yet now, with his voice lingering in my cubicle, I feel torn. What if Greyson is worth risking everything for?
I swipe at the moisture on my cheeks, willing away the tears Greyson’s voice has conjured. I draw in a shuddering breath and let it out slowly, deliberately. My desk, littered with notes and reminders, beckons me. “Once this integration is done,” I murmur. “Then I’ll have time to figure this all out.”
Shaking off his message, I rise from my chair. The project needs me. And I need it.
I head to the conference room to meet with the IT team, and the door swings open before I can reach for the handle. They have bagels, coffee, and a box of my favorite donuts, TimBits.
“Welcome back!” says Jocelyn Rider, one of my coworkers. “We missed your bright and shining face.”
“This is so sweet of you,” I say looking at everyone. Suddenly, I’m glad I’m here and ready to make a difference. “Shall we take this thing live?”
“Absolutely,” they chorus.
Over our food, we divide up tasks and make plans to keep each other up to date before we return to our cubicles to take care of the work.
I slide back into my chair and I settle noise-canceling headphones over my ears, ready to ward off any distractions that threaten my focus. The Gantt chart for the project stares back at me, a mess of deadlines and dependencies that are almost complete.
My gaze locks on the first task on my list, double-checking that all the codes and forms have been updated in the system. I’ve pulled out the files and started working down the row when a steaming cup of coffee materializes before my eyes. I blink up, momentarily disoriented, and Liz’s concerned face swims into view. I pull my headphones off.
“Gotcha,” she says with a wry smile, tilting the cup toward me.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
“I’ve been calling your name for a solid minute.” She chuckles. “You were so deep in your mind, I thought I might have to send a search party.”
“Sorry, just—” I gesture vaguely at my screen. “—busy. These things are amazing for blocking out the world.” I hold up my headphones.
“Looks like it.” She glances at the chart with an appreciative nod. “That’s some serious dedication.”
I take a sip of the coffee, grateful for the interruption, even if I hadn’t realized I needed it.
Liz’s eyes scan mine. “It’s past lunchtime, and you need a break,” she says, her voice firm. “Come on, let’s take a walk.”
I glance at the clock. It’s nearly two in the afternoon. My stomach growls. A break does sound good. I nod, setting the coffee down and pushing back from my desk.
We weave through the maze of cubicles, and then our steps echo as we head down the corridors of the hospital. Familiar faces move past, but my mind is once again elsewhere. Freed from my focus on work, it’s now replaying the voicemail that’s been haunting me since this morning. I force my attention to the present, to Liz.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you after we talked about dinner. I left my phone at my mom’s, and I’ve not had any time to replace it.”
“I get it.” She wraps her arm around my shoulder and squeezes me tight. “Don’t worry about it. I’m worried about you, but you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
Liz and I push through the doors to the outside and into the small park with several paths that abuts the hospital. We meander down one of the trails, soaking in vitamin D.
“Greyson called,” I blurt.
“Really?” She looks over at me. “What did he have to say?”
I swallow hard, the memory of his voice making my heart ache. “He’s sorry about Anita, and they’re not engaged… And he said he’s not ready for us to be over.”
Liz’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow, that’s…a lot. Are you okay?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I just can’t see the way forward.”
“Hey,” she cuts in, reaching over to take my hand in hers. “You don’t have to figure it all out this second. Let’s just enjoy our break, okay?”
“Okay,” I agree, managing a small smile. Inside, I’m a whirlwind of emotions, each one clamoring for attention. What if I’ve been too afraid to consider whether I’m ready to let him in or let him go for good ?
“With everything that’s happened—your dad, your mom’s illness, and this monster project at work finally coming to a head after three long years—it must feel like you’re carrying the weight of the world.”
I nod. “A little bit.” The truth is an understatement, but it feels safer than admitting how close to the edge I really am.
“And in the middle of this hurricane, you managed to fall for Greyson.” Liz’s tone is gentle, but her words strike with the precision of an arrow.
I stiffen. Denial rises like a reflex. “I didn’t fall for him,” I say quickly.
Liz gives me that look, the one that says she knows me better than I know myself. “Come here.” She stops and opens her arms. Despite myself, I lean into the embrace she offers .
“Greyson’s apology sounds like he’s in love with you too,” she whispers.
I want to argue, to pull away and tell her she’s reading it all wrong, but instead, a sob lodges in my throat, betraying the turmoil inside.