10
Courtland
"Hey,"
Dad says, walking into the den carrying two generous pours of his favorite whiskey.
"Thanks,"
I say, taking one from him and patting my stomach with my other hand.
"Between you guys and the inn, I think I've gained about ten pounds since coming home."
"That's what Thanksgiving is for, right?"
Dad just smiles and takes a sip.
"It's just good to have you back. Even if you're not staying."
I broke the news about Grandpa Arnie's will to him, Joan, and the kids over lunch. He seemed to understand I'm getting married so I can keep the inn, but I get the sense Joan taking so long upstairs has more to do with her wanting to give us a chance to talk than it is about tucking the kids into bed.
"It's only six months. I'll be back in no time, and then I'll take a role at BWH."
Dad isn't just a neurosurgeon there, he's the best neurosurgeon there. It's always been his dream for us to work together.
His dream.
It's not that I'm opposed to the idea—I love Dad, and it would be nice to work at the same place—but I don't know if it's what I want right now.
He takes another sip.
"You said the same thing about Africa."
"Did I?"
"Pretty much verbatim."
My eyes drift to the fire burning in the hearth. "Oh."
"Court, you realize you don't have to do any of this?"
My jaw tightens.
"I'm keeping that inn, Dad. It's important to me."
"That's not what I was referring to."
He smiles, and the glow of the firelight softens his features.
"I mean you don't have to come back here and follow in my footsteps."
"What?"
"My father was a doctor, too. I understand the inherent pressure and expectations I've placed on you over the years. I've tried my best not to influence you too much and let you make your own decisions. But I haven't always succeeded. Joanie mentioned I’ve been kind of relentless about you taking a position at BWH. I'm sorry. I never meant to do that or make you feel like that's what you have to do."
"Oh."
He takes another sip and stares at the fire.
I do the same.
It's funny, I don't take after either one of my parents looks-wise, but I've always had an incredibly close bond with Dad. Mom was never truly with us, always lost in the worlds she was creating in her books.
Dad was my hero as a kid, and now that I'm grown, his halo hasn't diminished much. Sure, he can be a little short-tempered sometimes, and his decision to marry someone twenty-two years younger than him was a bit of a head scratcher, but all in all, he's still a great role model, and my love for him runs deep.
He is the reason why I became a doctor, and until my trip to Africa, I never questioned why I followed in his footsteps. But now I'm reevaluating all my life choices—professional and personal.
Including why I've never said anything to Buzz about how I feel about him.
After what happened with our parents, I moved away and went to college, and he stayed in Clovelly and did his EMT training. We were navigating our new grown-up lives while both dealing with our parents divorcing. It was hard enough staying friends throughout all of that, much less pursuing anything more.
My studies and then placements were grueling and long, and it felt like there was no reason to say anything because what would it achieve?
He began dating, I remained obsessed with becoming a doctor, and we were besties. It worked.
Until recently.
Hearing about the friendship he's struck up with Zane spurred a jealousy within me I never knew I possessed. It's not normal to be that affected by your bestie hanging out with a new friend, especially when you're half a world away, and he's dealing with yet another breakup and needs good people around him.
But I am.
And as I questioned why, the answer became glaringly obvious.
I'm still in love with him. I've only ever been in love with him. It's why I've never dated. Why no man has ever even sparked the tiniest bit of interest. How could they? Buzz is the best. No one even comes close.
The original plan had been to tell him all of this over lunch before I left for Thanksgiving, but with the whole marriage surprise coming out of left field, I decided to hold off until I go back. We're going to be married and living together. We'll have plenty of time to talk.
And…maybe more?
Not that I'm under any delusions about why Buzz is helping me—it's about keeping the inn, he said so himself. But who knows? Maybe being forced to get married to your best friend could be more than just a premise for an awful JLO romcom.
Dad's chuckle jolts me out of the fantasies whirling in my head.
"You still love him, don't you?"
"Who?"
"Broc— I mean Buzz."
I knock back some whiskey.
"What do you mean still love him?"
"Come on, Court. I can read you like an MRI scan. You've been in love with that guy since high school."
"How did you know?"
"You asking him to prom was the first big clue. And after that, I started noticing other things. The way you looked at him in all those photos—of just the two of you—plastered all over your room. How I could tell it was him texting by the way you reacted. The fact you were always more eager to hang out with him than with Scooter and Cyrus. I came to realize it was more than just friendship love."
Dad takes a slow sip.
"Is that why you two are getting married? Have things progressed?"
"What? No." I wish.
"It's all purely one-sided…like it always has been."
"You know that for a fact?"
"No, but… I mean, if he had feelings for me, why hasn't he said anything?"
"Why haven't you?"
I lift up my glass and smile. "Touché."
"You need to talk to him, Courtland. Tell him how you feel. It's one thing your mother and I never did, and look how that turned out."
"I was planning on doing it before I came here, but the surprise you have to get married plot twist kind of took over. I'll do it when I go back. We'll have more time together, and I want to do it properly. Not tell him then leave town, ya know?"
Dad nods.
"Do you think there's a chance he could feel the same way?"
I shake my head sadly.
"Nope. But I'm going to tell him anyway. For my own sake. I need him to sit me down and say there's no chance of anything more between us. Maybe for closure, maybe for torture, who knows? Either way, I've been carrying it with me for so long, I need to get it off my chest and put this to bed so I can finally move on with my life."