Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
CAITLIN
“Shit,” I mutter, fumbling for my phone to silence it. My ringer is never on unless I’m home alone, but I must have forgotten to turn it off today.
Goddammit.
“I Am Woman?” Drew asks, hint of amusement in his tone.
“Shut it,” I order, glancing down at the phone to decline the call. But the second I see the number on the screen, my stomach clenches, anxiety gripping my spine in a tight fist. “Sorry, give me a second. I have to take this,” I say quickly, swiping to answer the call without looking up at Drew.
“Hello?” I ask, holding the phone tightly to my ear, my thumb finding the volume button on the side to ensure Drew doesn’t hear the other end.
“Hi, is this Caitlin Parker?” a cheerful voice asks.
“It is.”
“Hi, Caitlin, I’m the scheduling nurse calling from Dr. McNamera’s office to schedule your laparoscopic excision.
She has a pretty busy September, but she has an opening three weeks from today, and I would recommend taking it, otherwise we’re probably looking at November the earliest, likely the week before Thanksgiving. ”
“I’ll take it,” I say immediately, ignoring the terror now coiling in the pit of my stomach at the thought of doing this so soon.
I finally met with Dr. McNamera last week, and she diagnosed me with endometriosis with as much certainty as she could without seeing it with her own eyes.
Then she recommended surgery, which is the only way to get a definitive diagnosis.
Agreeing to get cameras shoved through incisions in my belly was a lot easier to swallow when I thought it was months away.
When I had longer to prepare. I’m not ready, but ready or not, I guess.
Big girl pants, Cait, I think. Do the fucking thing.
“I’ll take it. I’m in a meeting, so is there anything else I need to know right now?”
“Nope,” the cheerful nurse says. “We’ll call you a couple days before to give you all your instructions and your arrival time at the hospital. The procedure is outpatient, so you’ll leave the same day, but because you’ll be under anesthesia, you’ll need someone to drive you home afterwards.”
“Okay,” I say, ignoring the little kernel of dread I feel at the thought of asking someone to drive me home from the procedure that’s going to confirm exactly how broken I am.
Fuck it. I’ll take a rideshare. I’ll pay the driver extra to pretend to be related to me or whatever.
But it turns out the idea of being alone in the hospital feels worse than asking someone to come with me, and my hands clench, my heart pounding and sweat dripping down my back and into my underwear.
How completely delightful for me.
“Great!” the nurse says happily. “We’ll see you on the twenty-eighth.”
“Thank you,” I manage, before stabbing the button to end the call and practically slamming the phone down on my desk and pushing back my chair.
Bracing my forearms on my thighs, I lean forward slightly and drop my head, sucking in a breath to try to calm my nervous system that is currently going haywire.
“Breathe, Catie.”
Drew’s quiet voice and the hand he lays on my back have my entire body stiffening, and then, when he sweeps his thumb gently along my spine, everything relaxes again.
Turning my head, I see him crouching next to me, face covered in concern.
I have no idea when he came around the desk, but his steady gaze has my heartbeat slowing and anxiety easing its forceful grasp.
Unconsciously, I match my breathing to the cadence of his, getting lost in the deep brown of his eyes that say so much without saying a word.
You’re not alone.
I’m here.
You’re okay.
I hear the words like he spoke them out loud, and maybe it’s my lowered defenses from the call or Drew’s apology or the glimpse of the man underneath the mask or the fact that for the first time in my life I feel like maybe I don’t have to carry it all on my own, but the office around us disappears until it’s just Drew and me and this invisible pull between us I can’t seem to fight anymore.
He feels it too. I know he does.
I see it in the darkening of his eyes and the hitch of his breath. The way his hand flexes on my back and how he leans slowly, infinitesimally closer, just inside my space, and then closer still when I don’t do anything to push him away.
We drift towards each other, opposites drawn together by an undeniably magnetic force I couldn’t fight if I tried.
And I don’t want to try. I am so damn tired of fighting everything in my life, and I want this.
Him. Our faces are centimeters apart, Drew’s warm breath fluttering over my lips and his spicy scent scrambling my brain, which is the only explanation for the way I fist my hands in his shirt and tug him closer to me, laying my lips on his.
The second our mouths touch, my body turns electric, my brain emptying of every single thought except yes, this, more, please, and I would be certain I let out an honest-to-god moan if I was the kind of person who does things like that.
Drew sucks in a breath, his hands coming up to cup my face, fingers dancing along my jaw as he tilts my head back and glides his tongue along my lips.
As if he commanded me to, I open for him.
The second our tongues meet, he quite literally whimpers, and my entire body ignites at the thought that this strong, gorgeous man made that sound for me.
A heady sort of power sears through me, and I slide my hands down, wrapping my arms around his waist when he eases closer to me, tugging his body flush against mine.
Drew wraps one hand around the back of my neck, his other moving down to grip my hip, tugging me down until I’m kneeling on the floor with him, all the space between us gone.
He tilts his hips forward until I can feel exactly how this kiss is affecting him, and the knowledge is a lightning strike to my clit.
With his mouth moving expertly, deliciously over mine, life outside this little bubble ceases to exist. There aren’t secrets I’m keeping and surgeries scheduled and scary diagnoses that will change my life forever.
There is no person to help or problem to fix or situation to handle.
There is just him and me and the way his big, rough hands feel against my skin.
Our tongues tangling and hips rocking and his low groan that sets my entire body aflame.
Drew reaches down and grabs the back of my thigh, pulling one leg up to rest against his hip, and he grinds his erection right against my core, little sparks of pleasure dancing under my skin.
His cock is hard and hits me in exactly the right place and his hand tangles in my hair and his mouth moves urgently against mine and I’ve been kissed before, but I have never, ever been kissed like this.
I’m pretty sure no one has.
I have ascended to a higher plane of existence where unicorns fly and angels sing and a control freak, I can do it all by myself oldest daughter can let her guard down just enough to let the gorgeous football player kiss her.
“Fuck, Catie,” Drew mutters, dragging his lips away from mine to move over my jaw as he slides his hand up over my hip, his fingers grazing my stomach, and the nickname combined with his hand touching the one place on my body even I don’t touch is as good as a bucket of icy water directly to my face.
My spine snaps straight, one hand flying to my hair and the other reaching down to straighten my shirt, and I forget that I have one leg basically wrapped around Drew’s waist so he has to grab my hips to save me from toppling straight to the floor.
It’s that final indignity that has me shooting to my feet and then immediately sitting down in my chair, my eyes darting over my desk, looking for a pen as if having one in my hand will erase the fact that I spent the last five minutes with my face attached to Drew’s and liked it. So fucking much.
Nothing to see here.
Work Caitlin reengaged.
“Caitlin.” The softness in Drew’s tone threatens to cut straight through my hastily rebuilt defenses, and when I make the mistake of glancing over at him, it almost finishes the job.
He’s still kneeling on the floor, except now his lips are red and puffy, a little wet from mine.
His hair is falling over his forehead in a tousled mess that makes my stomach flip.
And his eyes. God, his eyes. They study me like I’m the only thing he sees.
Like I’m the answer to every question he’s ever had.
“What?” I snap, feeling ridiculously relieved when my hand finally closes over a pen, the familiar shape of it soothing my frayed nerves, and I clutch it like a security blanket.
I’m torn between telling him to forget the best kiss in the world ever happened and launching myself into his arms where I can forget again about doctors and surgeries and the broken parts of me.
It’s that thought that glues my ass to the chair, reengaging the part of my brain that abhors vulnerability. Not anyone else’s. Just my own.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “Talk about what? It was just a kiss, Drew. It’s not a big deal.”
It’s such a big deal.
I watch as Drew lifts a hand as if to reach out to me but then seems to think better of it, dropping it back down as he bends his knee and places one foot flat on the floor.
“On the contrary, Catie. There was nothing just about that kiss, and it was a very, very big deal, but I wasn’t talking about the kiss.
I was talking about the call that came before it. The one that scared you.”
My stomach clenches at Drew’s words because I hate that he noticed and I hate that he’s right and god, I am so fucking scared.
I’m scared of having surgery and what they might find.
Of what happens on the other side. Of diagnoses and decisions and everything that comes afterwards.
I should be relieved. I should feel lucky that I can do this at all when so many other women can’t.
But I’m not, and I have no idea how to open my mouth and say I’m tired and terrified and I really don’t want to be alone and also I wouldn’t mind kissing you a hundred more times and then a few more times after that.
So instead, I shake my head, taking a long breath and letting it out slowly. “It was nothing really. And we’re here to talk about you, not me. I have some ideas for the trusts or whatever you said you needed.”
Drew smiles when I give him back his words and pushes to stand.
Just when I think I’m in the clear and he’s going to sit back down and put a desk between us, he bends, his hand on my neck and his lips by my ear.
“You don’t have to say anything now, but I hope if you ever do want to talk to someone, you know you can talk to me. I see you, Catie.”
I see you.
Those words make my heart pound, tears burning behind my eyes because the way he says it, the way he looks at me when he straightens and finally does return to his chair, makes me think he really, really does. And I think maybe—just maybe—I like being seen by him.