Chapter Six
“No, Mr. Doyle, you don’t understand. My left arm is in a cast, and I’m going to have to take two months off of work.”
“Who told you that?”
“What do you mean, who told me that? My doctor! I have a doctor’s note,” I answer, feeling more and more frustrated with this conversation.
Sure, maybe two months off is a little ridiculous for a broken arm, but Evan insists I need to rest, and I don’t care to argue with him. Besides, I hate my job. Two months off will be a nice break. And since I qualify for workers” comp, I’ll still be able to pay the bills.
“I still don’t understand. How is this … doctor’s note stopping you from coming to work? And for two months, no less? This sounds suspicious to me, Miss Williams!” Mr. Doyle says.
I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself and not burst out on him. “Mr. Doyle. Please, try to meet me halfway. My left arm is in a full cast—”
“Well, good, that means your right arm works perfectly fine. And that’s your good arm,” he interjects.
“I’m left-handed…” I sigh. “And like I said, my left arm is in a full cast. How could I possibly do any work? How could I lift boxes? How would I put makeup on the ladies who come into Floreale and ask for a makeover? Would they even like seeing me like this … when they’re only interested in lipsticks and highlighters?”
He pauses for a moment, breathing heavily into the phone. “Hmm … I suppose that your broken arm might be bad for my business. Yes, you might be driving my customers away with that cast.”
As I listen to the man speak into the phone, I glance across my living room. Evan is sitting in an armchair on the other side of the coffee table, watching me have this nonsensical talk with my boss. He looks worried and ready to jump into action if I need his help—as always.
I pull the phone away from my mouth a little and, without making a sound, I mouth toward Evan. “It’s like I’m working for Scrooge.”
He starts to laugh and silently signals to me that I should hang up the phone.
But I can’t.
“Mr. Doyle, please … I really can’t do any work right now.”
“When will you be back?”
“In two months.”
“Two months?!” He acts like this is the first he’s heard of this, even though we’ve been talking about it in circles for the last thirty minutes. “No, no. You have to come in sooner. I cannot allow this.”
“Well, I’m afraid this is not something you’re really in the position of … allowing, Mr. Doyle. My cast comes off in two months. I can return to work then.”
“This is unacceptable! How could you do this to me?!” He’s now yelling at me over the phone.
“How could I do this to you? How could I break my arm, you mean?”
“Yes! Did you not think about how this would affect my business before you broke your arm?”
“Umm, no. I was too busy lying on the floor in pain to think about your business, honestly,” I answer, my voice now dripping with sarcasm.
Evan keeps making signs toward me that I should hang up the phone.
“Miss Williams! Did you do this on purpose? Are you trying to run me out of business?”
“No. Believe it or not, I didn’t break my arm on purpose. And I’m not running you out of business. The store will be just fine without me there. Where is this coming from?”
Before I have a chance to hear his response, Evan gets up from his chair, takes the phone from my hand, and addresses Mr. Doyle himself.
“Hello, Mr. Dover? Yes, this is Evan Davis, Miss Williams’ doctor. She’ll be ready to return to work in two months’ time. Until then, please stop bothering her.”
He hangs up the phone, but not before I hear my boss yelling at the other end that his name is Mr. Doyle, not Mr. Dover.
“Oh, no, that’s going to come back and bite me in the … umm … peach?” I laugh.
“That’s alright. You have a great peach.” Evan laughs.
“No, seriously, thanks for doing that, Evan. But … you don’t know him. He’ll find a way to hold this against me.”
“Then quit. How many times have I told you that beauty shop is not for you? I understand you’re passionate about makeup, but that awful man has been making your life miserable for far too long.”
“Yeah. So, what then? What am I supposed to do? Evan, I don’t have a penthouse in the middle of Boston overlooking half the city, and a three hundred-thousand-dollar Lamborghini. It’s not that easy for me to just give up a job,” I explain.
“You could…” his voice trails off.
“I could? How? If I win the lottery?” I joke.
“We could share.” His eyes narrow a little.
I watch his face and try to guess the meaning behind his words.
“You mean … be roommates?”
“You know what I mean, Dolly…”
“Evan, what has gotten into you lately with this marriage pact thing? I know we made a deal back in high school but—”
“But you don’t see me that way.” He gets up from the armchair and pours himself another glass of wine.
“I see you as my best friend—the most important person in my life. The guy who makes me laugh, the man I trust the most, the person I would do anything for. Anything.”
“But not the man you’re … attracted to … that way.” He drinks a little of his wine.
“I just don’t understand. Why do you need me to be attracted to you … like that? Isn’t our friendship enough for you? Look at us! We’re together right here, right now. You have me, Evan. Don’t we already spend all our time together? Do you want us to just … risk it all? For what? A relationship that will most likely end badly in only a few months? And then what? We’d lose seventeen years of friendship! I don’t understand. Why do you suddenly want that?”
He looks at me with an air of desolation that I can’t understand. Even though we’re friends, sometimes, I wish I could read his mind.
“I … never mind,” he says.
“Evan, come on. Let’s not leave this conversation on this note of—See? This is exactly what I’m talking about. This is precisely what our talks, or worse, our fights, would be like if we were a couple. Just awkward silence and frustration. Why do you want that?”
“I don’t. It’s alright. I’m not mad, don’t worry. I understand what you’re telling me. I understand that you’re not attracted to me like that. It’s fine. Let’s drop it. Come on. Let’s get your cast wrapped up so you can take a shower.”
I have a distinct feeling that this conversation is not over, but I follow Evan into the bathroom anyway.
“So, how’s this going to work, doctor?” I tease him, trying to lighten the mood.
“Well, Miss Williams, I’m going to expertly wrap up your cast to ensure it stays secure and waterproof while you shower.”
As I sit on the edge of the bathtub, Evan carefully wraps my cast in a plastic bag, securing it with a rubber band. His fingers move with gentle precision, the touch sending a shiver down my spine.
I try to push away the confusing emotions swirling inside me, reminding myself that we’re just friends.
As he finishes securing the cast, he flashes me a warm smile. “There you go, Miss Williams. Now you can shower without worrying about getting your cast wet.”
“Thank you, Dr. Davis,” I reply, returning the smile. “You truly are a lifesaver.”
“Just doing my job, Dolly.” He chuckles softly before turning on the shower.
We watch as it fills with steaming water. I take a step closer to it, putting out my good hand to check the temperature.
“It’s a little hot. But I like it…”
He looks at me but doesn’t say anything.
“Umm … okay, well, I guess I’ll change now and get this over with.”
“Okay, let me know if you need anything.” He nods before stepping out of the room.
I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the challenge ahead. I’ve never had to undress and shower with only one hand before.
I carefully unbutton my shirt with my good hand and try to slip it off. But as I attempt to remove my arm, I see the fabric of my shirt has somehow entangled with the rough edges of my cast and is now refusing to budge. I tug gently, then more forcefully, but it’s futile.
It’s stuck.
Panic rises in my chest as I struggle with the shirt. It’s that kind of irrational panic, because you’re stuck in a piece of clothing and too embarrassed to ask for help, so you start to imagine worst-case scenarios … like how you’re going to die wearing this shirt—if you don’t pass out from exhaustion trying to pull it off first.
Why did I have to break my stupid arm?
After several minutes, that felt like hours, I let out an exasperated sigh, realizing that I have no other choice but to ask for assistance. “Evan? Could you come back in here for a second? I’m having some trouble with my shirt,” I call out, my voice tinged with embarrassment.
Evan reenters the bathroom, his eyes immediately drawn to the struggle I’m having. His lips twitch into a small smile as he steps forward to help. “Having a little trouble there, Dolly?” he teases.
“Yes, it got stuck somehow. I’m so sorry…”
“That’s what I’m here for, right? Queen…” he adds under his breath.
“Hey, I heard that!” I start to laugh. “I broke my arm!”
“Oh, I know. I put it in a cast, remember?” He smirks.
We both stand in the middle of my small bathroom. The steam has caused the mirror to fog just a little. Finally, after a few moments, Evan takes control of the situation, as always.
He carefully unhooks my shirt from the edge of my cast, releasing my left arm.
“Oh, thank goodness, I thought I was going to have to live in…” My voice trails off as he gently removes the shirt from my opposite arm. I realize I’m trembling, and it’s not cold in here…
I’ve suddenly become immensely self-aware, both of myself and of the fact that I’m standing in the middle of my bathroom, in my lingerie, in front of Evan, my best friend from middle school.
My heart is thumping like mad now, and I’m almost certain he can hear it.
I look up into his face but notice that he’s not looking at me at all.
Which is surprising to me.
Doesn’t he want to see me like this?
But he doesn’t look—as if something’s wrong with me.
I get a small pang of insecurity.
“Mhmhm!” I clear my throat loudly.
“Is everything alright? Is this making you uncomfortable?” he asks.
“Mmm. No … a little, maybe.”
“Think of me as your doctor. I am your doctor, after all.”
“Can I ask you something … doctor?”
“Sure. Anything you want.”
Evan places his hands gently on my shoulders and turns me around to face away from him. I can now see his handsome face in the foggy mirror of the bathroom.
“Do you ever … look?”
He looks at my face through the mirror.
“Look? At what?”
“At your … patients. You know what I mean. Do you ever … look?”
“Of course, not. That wouldn’t be professional, would it?”
I turn back around and look into his eyes.
“Is this professional … doctor?”
“I thought I was your best friend.”
“You are. So … is this what best friends do?” I ask him.
“This is what we do. Now get in the shower.”
“Hey, you don’t get to tell me what to do.” I smirk, reaching into the shower and splashing the water onto him.
Evan gasps as the water covers him from head to toe. He reaches for a nearby towel, attempting to shield himself from my playful retaliation. Laughter fills the bathroom, the tension dissipating with each shared chuckle.
“You’re going to regret that,” he warns with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
He grabs a cup from the vanity and fills it with water, preparing to launch a counter-attack.
I squeal and hold up my good hand in surrender. “Okay, okay, I give up! Truce!”
Evan’s laughter fills the air as he sets the cup down, his eyes twinkling with joy. “Truce it is,” he agrees, a warm smile spreading across his face. “You got me good, Dolly,” he says as he looks down at his now soaking-wet T-Shirt. “I’m gonna have to throw this shirt in your dryer.” Without warning, he takes off his dripping-wet T-shirt.
I watch in awe as his muscular and toned body is gleaming now—water dripping down it in small rivulets. His abs are incredible, his shoulders are huge and rectangular, his waist small and strong.
I’m now realizing that I haven’t seen him without a shirt on since we were in high school, and all I can do is sit back and gaze at him in complete and utter amazement.
Evan starts to pat himself dry with a towel. His movements are that of a panther in the wild, his body taut, statuesque, and majestic.
I want to reach out and touch him but…
“What are you looking at? Are you proud that you soaked me from head to toe?” he asks me.
“Huh? What? Yeah, sure,” I reply mindlessly, not listening to anything he’s saying.
“You are proud, then? Well … maybe I should return the favor!”
“Wait! No, no! My arm! The cast, remember? You’re a doctor!” I reply, not able to stop laughing.
“Ah, you think that’s gonna save you, huh?”
“You’ve got to keep things professional, right?” I grin.
“Okay. You win. But please, get in the shower now, okay?”
“I will. But … Evan … will you stay with me tonight?”
He looks at me, not understanding what I mean.
“Umm … do you want me to sleep on the couch?”
“I just … don’t want you to leave, that’s all. Can you stay with me?”
“Absolutely.”