12. Lauren
12
Lauren
“You look terrified.”
I scoff. “Oh, no, Doc. Terrified doesn’t even begin to cut it.”
“Relax. The procedures are quite simple,” she replies, sliding a brochure toward me. “I only gave you a summary of what to expect. The more you read, the more you’ll realize there’s nothing to worry about.”
My hands grip the chair tighter. There’s nothing in that brochure that will calm my nerves after hearing the words ‘needles’ and ‘anesthesia’. After that incident the night Daniel died, I can’t think of anything else that scares me as much. My body shudders as I recall the belly-tightening sensation when the darkness engulfed me. I shoot up from the seat, rubbing my arms now filled with goosebumps. “I need to go.”
“Not before you book your appointment—”
“I’m not booking anything.” The words fly from my mouth with more venom than I intended. Dr. Lewis’ eyes widen at me as I sling the purse strap over my shoulder. She stands, pity now covering her face.
“It’s okay to be scared, Lauren. I understand this is a frightening experience, but I assure you, it’s quite harmless. Besides a few side effects, you’ll be okay.” My shaking hand grips the door handle as she says, “Take some time, think about it. Whenever you decide, just call me.”
I respond with a curt nod before sailing out the door. The receptionist calls out my name as I storm across the spacious waiting room, but I don’t stop. They have my information on file, so she can send the bill to my email. The automatic doors slide open, and a chilly blast hits my face as I step onto the sidewalk.
Crap . I left my jacket in Dr. Lewis’ office.
I pause and turn toward the entrance, debating for a moment. Screw it. I’m not going back—
“Oof!”
The painful exclamation flies from my mouth as my butt hits the hard sidewalk. I glare up at the solid surface I’d bumped into mere seconds ago. He stares down at me, remorse filling his face as he reaches out a tattooed hand.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t see you there,” he says.
Still glaring, I reach out my hand. Our fingers brush for a moment, right before I get pulled from behind. My driver’s stern, dark eyes meet mine before he nudges me forward, his hand gently gripping my arm.
“Jesus, Joe,” I mumble, almost tripping over my own feet. “Can you slow down?”
“Not until we get inside,” he mutters back, jerking his chin toward the car parked on the curb.
“Look, I understand my father hired you to protect me and whatever, but you’re overreacting. It was a simple accident—”
Joe shoots me a hard stare as he throws open the back door. “Get in.”
His expression leaves no room for an argument, but I can’t resist a disapproving scoff before throwing myself on the backseat. My body jerks as he slams the door and gets behind the steering wheel .
“I understand you’re not pleased with this arrangement, but I’m just doing my job. When I tell you to move, you move. Understood?”
I shrug in response, knowing he’s watching me through the rearview mirror.
Joe starts the engine. “And FYI, I don’t think that was an accident.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my head whipping around as I meet his eyes in the mirror again.
“He bumped into you on purpose,” he replies.
“It was probably an attempt to get my attention. A tacky attempt, but it doesn’t mean he’s dangerous.”
“Regardless, I’m not taking any chances.” Joe pulls away from the curb. “I like my job very much, thank you.”
Deciding not to argue, I turn my attention to the peak-hour traffic outside. Joe’s overreacting, I know that. Like the other men in my life, he thinks there are monsters lurking in every corner. I don’t believe it, but if they want to be paranoid, that’s on them.
My cellphone shrills in my bag, and I pull it out, groaning as I read the screen. You left the brochure and your jacket , Dr. Lewis’ message reads. You can get the jacket on your next visit . Here’s a soft copy of the procedure for you to browse.
With an impatient click of my tongue, I exit the app without opening the PDF attachment. I don’t know what to do. On one hand, I don’t want to freeze my eggs, but I can’t imagine not having kids someday. This is a hard decision. I’ve been keeping this from my family for a while, but maybe it’s time to let them in.
My thumb glides over the contacts in my family group as I consider who to call first. Gabriel is still on his honeymoon. It’s past midnight in Europe, so Mom’s asleep. I love my dad, but he’s not my first choice. Or second. Or third. He’s all logic, zero emotion when it comes to these things .
Marcus .
Things have been awkward and tense between us over the last two and a half weeks, and I barely even spoke to him at Zyon and Gabriel’s wedding. Not that I had a chance, anyway. He was too busy being going back and forth between Gabriel’s new assistant and a Latin beauty from HR.
Ugh.
He’s the last person I should want to see after being ghosted like that, but right now, my need to vent has overruled my pride. Besides, I’m not ready to go home to the loneliness at Gabriel’s house.
“Joe,” I say, tucking the phone back in my purse, “take me to Cobble Hill, please.”
The elevator doors slide open as I shimmy out of the backseat of the car. Marcus dashes into the underground garage, his eyes running over me as he approaches us. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
I shake my head, summoning a smile I don’t feel. “It’s nothing. I just want to—”
A lump forms in my throat as I try to get the remaining words out. I swallow, forcing down the urge to cry. Marcus nudges me toward the elevator while glancing behind him.
“Take the next couple hours off, Joe. I’ll ensure Lauren gets home safe.”
Joe follows us. “My job is to keep her protected—”
“And she will be. She’s with me.” Marcus turns to him. “I won’t let her out of my sight.”
“I’m sure, but—”
Marcus interrupts him again with a raised hand while dipping into his pocket. “To put your mind at ease, I will let the family know I have her.”
He types something on the phone, and mine vibrates as he presses send. With a reassuring smile, he turns the device to Joe. “See? I left a message in the group chat. You’re in the clear.”
Joe’s eyes shift as he reads the screen, then he sighs. He’s still not pleased, although he finally nods. “I will be checking in every hour,” he declares while backing away.
“Fine by me.” Marcus enters a code as the elevator doors slide open, and I hear Joe’s car engine start. I have feeling he’ll be on the phone with Daddy in a minute. I’ve never seen anyone take their job as seriously as he does.
Well, except Gabriel.
Tension swirls around us as the doors close. I lean against the glass wall, staring at my shoes, sensing his eyes on me. He says nothing on the ride up, but as we step into the living room, he takes my arm. Remorse is stamped on his face when I look up at him.
“I was an asshole for icing you out and I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s just, uh… seeing you like that, it was weird, you know?”
Yeah, like seeing-your-little-sister-naked weird. Got it. I wave him off. “Apology accepted.”
“Thank you.”
An awkward pause settles between us. Marcus looks so uncomfortable. Finally, he mutters, “How about we pretend it never happened?”
“Fine by me,” I reply casually. “I’ll ensure it never happens again either.”
“Good.” He offers me his hand. “Friends again?”
I take it. “Friends again.”
He looks relieved as he guides me to the couch and pulls a blanket over my lap. “Get comfortable,” he orders softly, handing me the remote.
Kicking my shoes off, I tuck my legs underneath me and pull the blanket over my shoulders as he moves across the open concept space to the kitchen. I re-watch the first installment of Bring it On as he gets busy, intermittent rattling sounds clashing with the noise from the TV. I only glance up when he rests a teacup on the center table.
“Chamomile,” he informs when I peer into the cup.
I smile at him. It’s my go-to whenever something’s bothering me.
He smiles back. “I’d cook for you, but I’m beat, so I ordered takeout. It should be here in half an hour.”
“Thai satay?” I ask hopefully.
“What do you think?”
Reaching over, I squeeze his hand. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do all that, and I appreciate it even more.”
“Don’t mention it.” He gives me a direct stare. “Seriously. I’d do anything for you.”
“I know that.”
“Now I want you to do something for me ,” he says, stealing half my blanket and covering his long legs.
“Which is?”
“Tell me what upset you. Or who upset you.”
I sigh.
“Give me his name. Let me go fuck him up.”
“Huh?” My head twists as I stare at him, incredulous. “What makes you think there’s a ‘him’?”
Marcus shrugs, frowning softly. “I assumed some idiot broke your heart and it upset you.”
“You thought I came all this way to talk about boyfriend issues?”
“Well, Zyon is out of town and your college bestie is all the way in Spain. I know there’s no one else you trust this much,” he replies.
Although he has a valid point, I still shake my head at him. “You’re something else. No, I’m not upset over a guy. ”
Marcus shifts, the action dragging the rest of the blanket off my lap. I yank the entire thing back to me. “Get your own blanket, big guy,” I joke.
“This is my blanket,” he jokes back, taking what’s left after I cover myself. “Now, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what’s what going on.”
The sudden seriousness in his tone sobers me. I lean against the back of the couch, staring at the cheerleading tournament scene.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be a mother,” I finally mutter.
There’s a short silence. “For someone who adores kids, that’s quite strange coming from you.”
“I’m not saying I don’t want a child. I might not have a choice in the matter, that’s it.”
“Elaborate.”
I twist on the couch and give him the most earnest stare I can muster. “Promise me you won’t mention this to Gabriel or my parents. I want to tell them myself.”
His eyes shift to my stomach, worry teasing his features.
“I’m not pregnant, Marcus.”
“Whew.” He swipes at his forehead. “For a moment, I was wondering if he wanted you to, you know…” A rare blush covers his light-brown cheeks.
I catch his meaning at once. “To get pregnant, I’d need to be having sex, which I’m not. There’s not even a guy.”
“I’m tempted to ride the tail-end of that response,” Marcus says, “but I’m more interested in what’s bothering you. Come on, let it out.”
Pulling up my knees, I rest my chip on top of them while telling him everything; from the cancer scare to my earlier visit with Dr. Lewis. Marcus takes my hand when I mention being sedated before they take my eggs. He was there the night they put me under.
“Is there any other option? ”
“Besides sedation? Considering how painful the egg retrieval process is, I doubt it.”
“I mean besides freezing your eggs,” he emphasizes.
I chuckle dryly. “Yeah, I could always find a man and have a kid, but that’s easier said than done.”
“Is it?”
His eyes sparkle with a knowing smile as I cock my head at him. “Okay, don’t answer that,” he says.
“Exactly. Your gender gives nothing but heartache, you know that.”
“Oh, come on. We’re not all that bad.”
I cock my head the other way.
“Okay, most of us aren’t that bad,” he corrects.
I twist my lips, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Most of them aren’t that bad.” He laughs out loud.
“At least you’re honest,” I reply, laughing too.
“Look,” Marcus says seriously as my laughter subsides, “contrary to what you might see or believe, there are good men out there. Good men who’d be lucky to have a woman like you. Someone who desires to have a family just like you do.”
I nod.
“Maybe you’d rather focus on your career now and start a family later.” He squeezes my knee. “Whatever you decide, you have my unending support. If you want me to hold your hand through that scary procedure, I’ll be there. If you want a wingman, someone to help you sift through the assholes until you find your prince, count me in.”
“You, be my wingman?” I shake my head in slow-motion. “I’ll pass.”
Marcus palms his chest with an exaggerated gasp. “I’m very offended, young lady. ”
“I don’t care. You don’t know the difference between ‘wingman’ and ‘cockblocker’. I’ll die a virgin if you get your way.”
He gasps again. “Wait, what—?”
I throw a cushion at him as my face burns from that unexpected confession. “Not another word.”
Marcus throws up his hands in surrender, but there’s a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I’m definitely wing-manning for you now. There’s no way I’m going to let just anyone get your number.”
“That won’t be your decision to make,” I point out.
He leans in, close enough for me to see the freckles beneath his hazel eyes. “You either let me, or I’ll be forced to beat their asses when you choose wrong.”
“I won’t choose wrong. I’m a good judge of character.”
“You’re a terrible judge of character,” he counters. “You think there’s good in everyone.”
“There is.” I point at him. “Take you, for instance. Your exes might say you’re the worst guy they’ve ever met—”
“Ouch.” Marcus rubs his chest.
“—but you’re one of the best people in my life. You’ve been good to me for as long as I can remember. See what I mean?”
“Yes, there are good people with bad tendencies and vice-versa, but there is also evil, people with not one shred of decency in them. They’re out there wrapped in pretty packages and smiles that make you feel like they’re one of us. When your guard drops, they strike.” His eyes scan my face. “I’m not trying to scare you.”
“I’m not scared.”
“You’re doing that thing where your eyes look like tiny little saucers,” he points out.
My eyes shutter. “Oh, shut up,” I grumble .
He chuckles and I join in too.
“Seriously, though. Whatever decision you make, I’ll be here for you.”
In response, I rest my head against his shoulder.
The doorbell rings, and Marcus checks his watch. “That must be our dinner. I’ll take you home when we’re done.”
At his words, my stomach drops. The thought of going home to that empty house is the most depressing one I’ve had all day. I’d rather spend the night here, with the one person who would make me feel better, but after Marcus blew me off the last time, I’m unsure about asking to stay.
I chew on my lower lip as he grabs his wallet from the entrance table and goes to the front door. After a friendly exchange with the delivery guy, he comes back and rests the bag on the center table.
“What’s that look?” he asks me.
“It’s nothing,” I mumble.
“Lauren.”
Despite the warning in his voice, I shake my head. “I said, it’s nothing—”
“Spill,” he orders firmly.
With a sigh, I let it out. “Do you mind if I stay with you tonight? I don’t want to be home alone.”
Wariness I’m not prepared for flashes across his face before he mutters, “That’s not a good idea, Lauren.”
“Why not? It’s not like I haven’t slept over before.”
“Yeah, when you were fifteen and there was like a dozen other people around.”
“I don’t get your point.”
Marcus leans in, his expression growing stern. “The point is, we’re the only ones here. It’s inappropriate. ”
“Why?” I stare him down, waiting for an answer, but the growing discomfort on his face soon has me connecting the dots. “Because you’ve seen me naked.”
“Jesus, Lauren.” Marcus scrubs his face. “I thought we weren’t going to mention it again.”
“Well, I wouldn’t if you weren’t being so awkward about it.”
“I’m not being awkward. I’m…” A pent-up breath rushes from him as he searches for the right word. “Careful.”
“It’s only a sleepover. In different rooms. I’ll even bolt the door if that makes you comfortable.”
Marcus closes his eyes, muttering something under his breath while rubbing his temples. “Fine. On one condition,” he finally says.
“Yes.”
He scoffs. “You don’t even know what the condition is.”
“I don’t care. Yes.”
“Don’t mention a word of this to Gabriel. In fact, not a word to anyone. I’ll handle Joe. Understood?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Good.” He lifts the takeout bag off the center table. “Come on, let’s dig in.”
A satisfied smile crosses my face as we settle down to eat.