Chapter Seventeen Emily
Chapter Seventeen
Emily
Me: I’m currently surrounded by a team of extremely happy nurses who are on quite the sugar high. If they could, they’d say thank you. However, I’m Miss Popular instead, lol.
Me: Also, not kissing you in the hallway before you left the rehab center = excruciating.
Gavin: I could tell. You were biting your lip when you waved goodbye.
Me: That’s how you know I want to kiss you?
Gavin: That’s one way, yes. Your eyes also tell me by the way they look at me and your body by the way you can’t sit still.
Me: You’re more observant than I mentally give you credit for.
Gavin: I’m learning you . . . and believe me, I wanted to take care of you before I left.
Me: As in, drag me into the supply closet?
Gavin: And get on my fucking knees.
Me: Gavin, you’re torturing me.
Gavin: You have a fan.
Me: A what?
Gavin: My grandmother, she just texted me about you. You must have just left her room. She felt the need to remind me of how well she’s being taken care of there and how much she’s going to miss you.
Me: Awww. She’s the sweetest.
Gavin: Do you think she’s trying to send me a message?
Me: She couldn’t be. She knows nothing.
Gavin: My grandmother? That woman knows fucking everything.
Me: You’re saying she saw you eye fucking me when we were last in her room together?
Gavin: And drooling. Probably.
Me: Is that a problem? Do I need to worry?
Gavin: A feisty eighty-four-year-old is now going to do everything in her power to make sure we’re together. Do you see that as a problem?
Me: Go, Bettie, go!
Gavin: You know, as my brother’s girl, I adore Maya. But when it comes to you, she’s a real cockblock. I can’t send anything to your work, she’ll see it, I’m sure. I can’t send anything to your apartment, she lives with you. I don’t like it . . .
Me: She’s barely home, she’s always at Jordan’s. My gut tells me they’re going to be moving in together soon.
Me: You also don’t have to send me anything.
Gavin: I want to.
Me: Do you know what the best gift was?
Gavin: Tell me.
Me: When you called me last night to say good night.
Gavin: I need to see you. Even if it’s only for 10 minutes. Are you working for Dr. Kaplan tonight?
Me: Yep.
Me: And don’t even think about putting a Lego up Ben’s nose.
Gavin: I would never . . . but I wouldn’t put it past me to say he’s spiking a high fever.
Me: Lol. I’m at the rehab center until 4. Does that help?
Gavin: What time can you escape to the coffee shop?
Me: 12? 1? I’m sure your day is wild, what time can you get away?
Gavin: I’ll see you there at 1:00.
Me: Oh . . . and don’t try to kiss me. I’ve decided I’m no longer doing that in public places after you ravaged me the last time we were there, having me so worked up, I was panting when I returned to work.
Gavin: You’re not letting me kiss you? Are you trying to fucking torture me?
Me: Nothing makes me happier.
Gavin: I know . . . my fucking balls are still blue.
Me: Ha!
Me: Panting. Again. What the hell are you doing to me, Mr. Worthington?
Gavin: You’re the one who kissed me.
Me: That’s not what happened. You pulled me against you, lifted me into the air, and laid one on me.
Gavin: Is that how it went down?
Me: I left out a few details, like the way you looked at me right before you kissed me.
Gavin: I can’t help it. You’re fucking gorgeous.
Me:
Me: So this weekend . . . I know you mentioned getting together while we were at the coffee shop, but are you sure you want to send Ben to your parents’ house? I could always sneak over while he’s asleep. I don’t want to take away any of your time with him.
Gavin: I don’t want to wait until this weekend to see you.
Me: Good thing this weekend isn’t that far away.
Gavin: My mother is begging for Ben to come over and spend the night. I’ll take him there at 4. I’ll pick you up right after.
Me: Where are we going?
Gavin: You’re not getting that out of me.
Me: You’re the worst.
Gavin: Because I want to surprise you?
Me: A girl needs to plan, like what to wear, how to do my hair—all the things.
Gavin: That outfit you wore to Jordan’s, those tight workout pants and the Bears T-shirt you tied at your waist, I want you in that. But I want it to be a Deers T-shirt.
Me: How do you even remember that outfit?
Gavin: I see your curves in those pants and how your stomach was peeking out every goddamn day in my head.
Me: Ahhh. The outfit that made you get on your knees.
Gavin: Here’s the other thing, if I need you to be in something dressy or something specific or even something for overnight, I’ve got you.
Me: What does that even mean?
Gavin: When you come to my place on Saturday, you’ll be spending the night, and you don’t need to bring anything with you.
My stomach practically shuddered as I held my phone, rereading Gavin’s last message. Clothes, he would get for me. Spending-the-night essentials, he had covered. A man with money and power and knew how to use both.
My insides completely turned to liquid.
But it was the way he made me feel that mattered far more than what he could give me or what he could do for me.
A warmth that lived in my chest, a smile that permanently marked my lips.
Somehow I had to hide it, because Bettie’s discharge papers had been processed and she was leaving in the next few hours, which meant it was time to say goodbye. According to Gavin, she was on to us, so my mask needed to be thick.
I tucked the phone into my scrubs pocket and walked down the hallway, expecting to see her daughter in her room, who I was told would be picking her up, or Maya doing a final round of doting.
But Bettie was alone, lying on top of the bed, with her cell in her hands.
“My darling. Come in.” Her deep-burgundy-painted lips pulled wide.
I stopped at the side of the bed and held the railing that framed the top of her mattress. “Before things get busy, I wanted to come in and say goodbye. Not goodbye goodbye, I know I’ll be seeing lots more of you. Just goodbye for now.”
Her hand went to my cheek, her thumb grazing my skin. “My gal, that smile . . .”
“I forgot lipstick. It’s somewhere in my bag—”
“You don’t need it. If I had your lips, I wouldn’t cover them in anything.” She removed her red glasses and set them on her lap, her stare never leaving mine in the process.
I put my hand on top of hers. “Thank you.”
She was silent for a few seconds, her head tilting, her gaze deepening. “Happiness looks beautiful on you.”
“How do you know my smile isn’t a lie?”
“My dear girl . . .” She patted my cheek before linking her fingers with mine. “I’ve seen the lie, and right now I’m witnessing the truth.”