21. Scarlett
21
SCARLETT
N ick hadn't shown up to Ethan's last two appointments. He let his partner in the practice, a Dr. Goodman, take over. Dr. Goodman was a nice man, but Ethan didn't like him. I didn't like him either, but there was little I could do about it. Ethan needed the care, and Nick was the one who knew everything about his case. We'd just gotten him on a new medication too, so monitoring his symptoms was important.
Now, mid-May, after a month of not having seen each other, I knew Nick was going to be here for Ethan's checkup. When the nurse called us in to the exam room, she said, "Dr. Edwards will be with you shortly," and my entire body tensed.
Ethan was doing well now. The medication seemed to be working, and Dr. Goodman was even optimistic that if he continued improving, it could push surgery out three or four years. But that opinion meant Ethan wouldn't be able to play sports that long either. I didn't want him to give up on what he loved most, though the surgery option didn't thrill me. I was truly hoping Nick would say something different, something better.
I was also hoping Nick would speak to me again. When he responded to my text three days later and told me he just wanted some time and space to process his feelings, I thought he meant a few days or a week. It had been a whole month. I missed him, and I wondered if we had anything left now. My heart still loved and wanted him, but I knew I'd hurt him pretty badly. I understood that I had probably ruined things, but my heart held on to a shred of hope that he'd forgive me.
I'd already lost so much. People were talking about me, calling me a gold digger, boycotting the bakery. Two more of my employees quit, including Nellie, who said it was because she felt consumed with guilt over what happened, but deep down I wondered if she was ashamed to work with me now too. Nick wasn't the only black sheep of the town now, and what I feared years ago was happening now.
The strange thing for me was that other than the slump in business, it hadn't affected me much. I didn't care what people said about me. What hurt me was how Nick left me completely alone to deal with it by myself. For Ethan to have to go to school and hear kids mocking him too. I was sad over the whole thing, but I had no one to blame but myself. I did this.
The door clicked open and Nick walked in. He looked tired but fresh. His clean-shaven face revealed no emotion at all. His eyes didn't linger on me or drink me in the way they had months ago. He focused on Ethan, which was probably for the best. If he was going to move on, I had to move on, no matter how much it hurt.
"How are we doing today?" he asked, and he set the tablet he carried on the counter next to the sink as he washed his hands.
"Dr. Nick! When are you coming over for dinner? Mom said you were busy working. Is that true? This medicine is working and I feel better. Can I play soccer?" Ethan was more bubbly than normal. Spring soccer tryouts had come and gone, but summer soccer would start in a few weeks. I knew it wasn't going to happen, but I just couldn't be the bad guy again, not after having to tell him Nick wasn't going to be around for a while. That was the hardest part about being attached to Nick—knowing Ethan had gotten attached too.
"Well, buddy, I've been really busy." Nick shook his hands off then grabbed a few paper towels and dried them. "But right now we need to talk about your heart, and I just don't know if we're quite ready for soccer." He took his stethoscope and put it in his ears, then pressed it to Ethan's chest, coaching him how and when to breathe.
I watched with nervous anticipation, feeling my emotions wax and wane. Each time Nick looked up at me I felt drawn into his orbit, and he'd look away and I'd feel cold and isolated. I felt like a little girl hoping the boy I liked would notice me. When Nick chatted with Ethan and promised him that next year at this time he'd be playing soccer, I heard the grunt of frustration from my little boy's lips and sighed in sadness. Another year of this, but then he'd be healthy and normal hopefully.
"Why don't you go out and get some candy like normal. Let me talk to your mom."
My body stiffened as Ethan slid off the exam table and his sneakers hit the floor. He slunk out with his head drooping, and I suddenly felt like hiding. Nick and I hadn't spoken in a month. Not a message, not a call. Not even a letter. No update at any of Ethan's appointments, and I hadn't even seen him around town. I heard he was drinking heavily, untrustworthy, maybe even got a DUI, but I didn't believe the rumors. I knew what they were saying about me and none of it was true.
"I…" I muttered but I couldn't really say much. The ball was in his court. It had been in his court since he asked for space. I respected that enough to not even send him a good morning text when I really missed him the most.
"Scarlett," he breathed, and it felt like worship. I drew in a breath and held it, and he stepped closer to me. My eyes welled up. I had his undivided attention and all I could think to do was cry.
"I'm sorry," I mouthed; no sound would come. My lip quivered. I couldn't do this. It was too much. He was going to break up with me, tell me he could only be Ethan's doctor. It hurt. I was panicked. I blurted out: "So…surgery? When? And how long will the recovery be?" I could get through this if I focused on Ethan. I refused to be one of those people who left this practice and made the gossip mongers win. Even if it raped my soul over and over, Nick was Ethan's doctor, and it would stay that way.
"I understand why you did what you did…" Nick closed the gap between us and cupped my cheek and the waterworks started. His hand held me gently; his thumb brushed away the tears. "I know it was a hell storm around me and I don't blame you one bit."
I leaned into him, pressing my forehead against his chest. A month's worth of fear was unraveling, spooling out in a waterfall of emotion he was catching and cradling. He held me to his body and rubbed my back. I clung to him as I sobbed, and when I got control of myself, hoping he'd say we could go back to where we were, he sighed.
"I need some time, okay?" he said thoughtfully.
It wasn't what I wanted to hear. I missed him. I needed him in my life, and I wanted to know if our relationship was going to happen or if I should just give up and mourn him. Not knowing was the hardest part, but I had no right to push him. So I nodded.
"And I need a bit of space, but that doesn't mean I'm deserting you or Ethan." Nick brushed away a few more tears, and I leaned into his palm.
"Alright," I said bravely.
"Just tell me one thing…Why did you keep him a secret? The four months we were dating and you said nothing…"
I winced when he said "were dating" because that implied past tense dating, not present tense. I didn't want to read too much into it, but what was I supposed to think?
"I don't have a good reason. I mean, Ethan's just a kid. I didn't know what the right thing was." I had no real excuse as to why I hadn't told him. I'd kept it a secret for so long, a few more months didn't seem to matter that much to me, but looking in Nick's eyes I could tell it meant something to him. Saying how afraid I was that he'd dump me and run away because of my secret seemed like it would only sound like I was manipulating him so I said nothing.
"Be patient with me, okay?" he said, then he leaned in and kissed my lips softly.
It drew a whimper of need from my throat, but it wasn't sexual need. It was the desperate need to stand on solid ground—confidence, stability, assurance I was safe.
"I should go," I told him, and I backed away. I wiped my tears away and walked out and he said nothing. It hurt a little that he didn't try to stop me, but he wanted space. I should've expected that. Should've known he wasn't going to call me back, not if he wanted time to wrap his mind around things.
I walked out to the front reception area and looked for Ethan. He sat in the corner playing a game, eating a piece of licorice, and I moved straight toward him. Near the reception desk, however, stood a beautiful woman. She was tall and slender. Her short dark hair was feathered to the side the way Princess Diana always wore hers. She was pretty, and she was wealthy. I could tell by the Prada tag on her purse, and the way her Casper suit hugged her curves like it had been tailored just for her.
She offered a smug expression aimed at me and turned to the receptionist. "Just tell Nicky I'm here to see him and he'll want me back there right away." It was as if she had said her words loud enough to let me hear them on purpose. If they were daggers aimed at my heart, it worked. She hit her target. I felt insecure immediately.
"Come on, Ethan," I coaxed, helping him put the toys he was playing with away. That woman unnerved me. What was she doing here anyway? Calling Nick "Nicky" and acting like she was judging me…
Was he already moving on with someone else? Was this a rebound woman? She looked familiar but I couldn't place her face.
I took Ethan's hand and led him out against his protests, promising we could stop for ice cream if he just went along with me right away. I didn't want her to see me crying, because that was all I was going to do for days.