25. Liliana
25
LILIANA
Finding out a previous elderly patient passed away shouldn’t hit me as hard as it does. It’s been months since I’ve seen Mr. Allen, and even then, he was only my patient for a few weeks. He also passed away in his sleep, in the natural way that older people do. No pain or reason. I shouldn’t be fighting back tears when Fran pulls me aside to tell me.
I feel silly about it, so I assure her that I’m fine. And I go back to my day, trying not to let the sadness creep in, trying not to feel as much as I do.
I think I manage because no one says anything. Not even Fran or any of my other coworkers.
When it’s time for Roman’s session, it becomes apparent that I’m not the only one having a hard day.
He’s off, both mentally and physically. It’s clear to me that he’s having a bad day with nerve pain. I’ve seen him wince and flinch away from contact a few times, and with the dark circles under his eyes, I can tell he probably hasn’t been sleeping well.
Once we finish our warmup and a very light strength training session, I’m prepared to suggest switching our session to more of a stretching one, instead of the gait training we had originally planned. But Roman surprises me by gritting his teeth and moving over to the parallel bars.
Thank God, I already asked Fran to help today, because I can already tell we’re going to need her. Determination or not, Roman’s body is struggling.
When I call an early finish, I don’t know who’s more exhausted, me or Roman. I give Fran a grateful smile behind his back before she leaves us to finish her own work.
“How you doing?” I ask Roman once he’s settled back in his wheelchair.
He lets out a heavy exhale. “Fine.”
I hand him a cup of water. “I know you’re a little touch-sensitive today, but if something hurts that I can fix with a massage, we can always finish with that.”
He shakes his head and downs the small cup in two gulps. “I’m okay. But thanks.” Once he tosses the plastic in the trash, he glances toward the hallway and adds, “I’m going to go use the bathroom.”
Knowing we both need to call it, I wave him off. “Go. We’re done for today. I’m going to finish up my notes, so just yell when you’re ready to leave.”
He hurries out of the room quicker than I expect him to. But I’m too tired to speculate, so I pull my laptop over and start in on my session notes right there in the middle of the gym.
“I’m leaving,” Roman calls out ten minutes later. I didn’t even hear him come back into the gym. “See you Saturday?”
I nod my confirmation as I close my laptop. “Yup. But wait up, I’m going to walk out with you.”
It distantly registers that Roman stiffens at that. I don’t realize why until I make my way into the break room to grab my jacket and bag and notice something on the table that wasn’t there before.
It’s a small pastry box. I can see the extra-large cookie inside it even from here. And on top of it is a Post-it note with a rough scribble of my name.
Surprise freezes me in place, but curiosity moves me forward. The box’s design looks familiar. But there’s no way?—
“Roman.” In awe, I lift the box and spin back toward the gym. “Did you… Did you do this?”
He doesn’t answer, doesn’t meet my eyes. He’s embarrassed. He didn’t want to be caught with his gift; that’s why he was trying to rush out of here.
“How did you do this?” I breathe out.
He gives me a stiff shrug. “I had it delivered. It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes, but…when? Why? ”
He still won’t meet my eyes. “You seemed like you needed it. Like I said, it’s just a cookie, Liliana. All I did was click a few buttons on my phone.”
Maybe, but…he noticed. He cared . On a day when he’s clearly struggling himself, he cared enough to see someone else’s pain—and do something about it. And he would’ve done it silently if I hadn’t called him out on it.
“It’s from my favorite bakery,” I whisper as I open the box. When the heavenly smell of it hits my nostrils, my head jerks up to find Roman’s eyes. “How did you know?”
Thank God, he doesn’t look away. “I remembered,” he says simply.
Emotions crash over me, ones that I try to shove down when it comes to Roman. The main one being affection.
My eyes fill with tears. I want to hug him. I want to return the favor. I want… something.
“Liliana,” Roman growls, his deep voice bringing me back to this moment. “No crying. It’s not a big deal.”
I can’t help it: his comment makes everything bubble over, and I let out a wet laugh.
“You’re so delusional,” I tell him lovingly. “You have no idea how thoughtful you are. I mean, no one else even noticed I was having a bad day. And you not only noticed, you took the time and money to do something that you knew would make me feel better.”
His eyes soften, and he says quietly, “Of course I noticed.”
There’s zero hesitation in his words. Combined with the intense way our eyes have locked, suddenly I’m sucking in a sharp breath.
But then he asks, “ Do you need to talk about it?”
Another laugh bursts out of me, this one easier, and less tear-filled, helping to jolt me from my thoughts. “See? And you’re good with crying women.”
He doesn’t laugh with me. He just waits expectantly.
I shake my head, feeling lighter. “No, not really. A patient I worked with a few months ago—an older patient—passed of a heart attack, and it’s just…hitting a little harder than I would’ve expected. I know it’s a part of life and has nothing to do with me, but…I don’t know, it still makes me sad.”
Roman nods. “It speaks to your heart,” he says.
It’s my turn to shrug awkwardly. “I guess I just feel things more than I should.”
“Which is one of your best qualities, Liliana,” he says firmly, never looking away from me. “It’s what makes you a great physical therapist. And I should know: as a trouble patient, I’ve benefited greatly from that quality.”
Fondness for Roman hits me so hard, it almost bowls me over. This sweet, incredible, deserving man .
“I’ve never thought of you that way, Roman,” I whisper, scared to say it any louder. “Not once.”
Whatever’s passing between us feels…big. Too big for either of us to understand. But it’s no less powerful because of it.
Forcing a smile onto my face, I nod at the box in my hands. “And anyway, there’s no way you could qualify for that title after this. Surprising me with my favorite dessert on a bad day? You might even earn favorite patient with this.”
A playful smile tugs at his lips. “Who knew all I needed to impress you was some sugar. I should’ve guessed.”
I let out a laugh and try to subtly blink the wetness from my eyes. “Well, either way, you’re going to need to help me eat this. Blueprint cookies are too much for one person.”
Roman glances at the cookie in my hands and lifts an eyebrow. “I could eat three of those in one sitting, Liliana.”
I roll my eyes before quickly walking into the break room to grab two forks. “Okay, well, you can get your own cookies then. I’m only offering you half.”
His amusement is right back on the forefront. “I ordered that cookie for you . If you don’t finish it, give it to your roommate or something. Or Garfield.”
“He wishes he could have a cookie like this,” I murmur, taking a seat on the treatment table beside him. “No, I want to share this with you.” I hold one of the forks out to him and add, “Please?”
Shaking his head with a smile, he takes the fork and moves closer to the table. “As if I could say no to you. But you take the first bite. I was pretty sure I got the right flavor, but…”
I stab the fork into the cookie and pop the bite into my mouth. “Definitely the right flavor,” I moan, my mouth still full. I cut off another bite. “Double chocolate cookie is a win by itself, but add in a Ferrero Rocher cheesecake filling? Hellooo, heaven .”
Laughing, he takes a bite for himself and lifts it to his mouth. Then his head rears back as he points at the cookie with his fork. “Okay, that might even be good enough to fix my day. Holy shit. How have I never tried Blueprint before?”
“I think they only opened in Philly recently. They’re technically a franchise.” I take another bite. “You have a sweet tooth all of the sudden, huh?”
“I think I just grew one,” Roman mutters to himself.
Why can’t I stop smiling? “So, I shouldn’t be surprised if you acquire a muffin top? Noted.”
With a snort, he takes another bite. “Do you have any idea how much ab work is required to wield a wheelchair? And that goddamn harness?” He jerks his chin toward the harness we used today at the parallel bars.
“I have some idea,” I mumble. My head snaps up, my cheeks heating as I realize what I just let slip. And that Roman is grinning shamelessly at me. I seriously cannot keep my mouth shut around this man.
“Checking me out again, Doc?” he teases. “It’s alright, I do the same thing. And personally”—his gaze drops down my body, and my cheeks heat for an entirely different reason—“I think the sweets you eat go to all the right places.”
When did the air thin out? There’s not enough oxygen in here.
This is how it’s been for the past two weeks. Ever since that “pretend” kiss turned my world upside down. Our sessions consist of the usual exercises, and our banter is the same as it’s always been, but…there’s an energy in the air that wasn’t there before. It’s in the way I know when he’s looking at me, and the way his skin always feels warm under my touch. The way my breath hitches sometimes when we make eye contact.
“Roman,” I chastise on a breath.
He chuckles as he takes another bite. “You started it.”
I start to stutter over a response, but I have none. Instead, I let out a defeated exhale and scoop up the last bit of the cookie.
“So much for keeping things professional…” I roll my eyes at myself.
Another rumble of laughter from Roman, and this time, he puts his fork down. “I don’t think we’ve ever been truly professional, Liliana,” he says. When his eyes meet mine, an electric charge zips over my skin.
Reaching up to slowly brush his thumb over my mouth, his hand comes away with a little bit of frosting, and my lips tingle from his touch. It becomes hard to breathe all over again, even before he sucks his thumb into his mouth to lick the frosting off.
His eyes never look away from mine. “All I know is, I’m better with you in my life. Professional or not.” There’s a beat of hesitation, and something flashes in his eyes. “I just…want you to know that.”
My heart rate accelerates even more. After that kiss, it’s become an unspoken thing that we don’t talk about…whatever this is. That because that outside moment didn’t technically exist, we weren’t going to speak it into existence by acknowledging it.
This is the closest we’ve ever come.
And despite the risk, knowing that Roman thinks his life is better with me in it…
It’s everything.
I have no hope of responding to Roman’s declaration. He knows it, too, as he wordlessly takes the empty box from my hands and throws it out. We leave the clinic together, but we’re both uncharacteristically quiet as we do it, speaking only when we separate in the parking lot.
“Roman…”
He pauses to look at me.
“Just…thank you,” I say simply. “For the cookie. For…tonight.” For noticing. For caring. For…being you .
He only nods, the smile on his lips so imperceptible, I wonder who would even be able to catch it. “Anytime, Doc.”
And just like every other night for the past two weeks, I don’t fall sleep for a very, very long time.