36. Liliana
36
LILIANA
Four Months Later
“Thanks again, Lily. I’ll see you next week!”
I wave at my last patient of the day with a smile. “Sounds good, Dave, see you then! Have a nice weekend!”
Once he’s gone, I organize my area. With back-to-back clients all day, this is my first chance to do any cleanup. Nowadays, my schedule is jampacked like this. I don’t mind it, though—I’ve come to appreciate it as a reliable distraction from my own thoughts.
Not that my boss doesn’t try to lighten my load. Even now, I can tell what she’s going to say before she reaches the gym.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to transfer Dave to Sandy?” she asks, her hands on her hips and a concerned look on her face. “You know he’d be happy with any young female PT. He’s not picky. It doesn’t need to be you.”
I roll my eyes as I continue to clean up. “Well, that just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and appreciated.”
“You know what I mean. I’d just rather you have a few less clients. You’re working yourself too hard, Lily. You’re going to burn out.”
My throat tightens. I know I’m working too hard, but I also know it’s the only thing keeping me sane these days.
She sighs, her hands dropping to her sides. “Well, it was worth a try. I’m leaving now but don’t stay too late, okay? You need to get some sleep.”
I force a smile onto my face as I wave her off. “I won’t. I’ll see you next week, Fran.”
She starts toward her office, but before she can get very far, she snaps her fingers and turns back around.
“I almost forgot. I had a feeling you’d say no to a smaller workload, so I left a little something in your locker. Do me a favor and at least try to use it.”
My brow furrows. “What did you leave me?”
She’s already walking toward her office again as she calls out, “Just use it, Lily!”
I’m too curious not to go immediately into the breakroom to check my locker.
She left me a ticket to the movies tonight.
My chest tightens, partly because I’m affected by her thoughtfulness, but mostly because of the person who comes to mind when I think of anything movie related.
It’s been four months, and yet there isn’t a day that passes when I don’t think about Roman. On good days, the thought is a fleeting one, something along the lines of wondering how he’s doing and hoping he’s okay. But on bad ones, I end up in a downward spiral of overthinking.
Despite how firmly I ended things, I never stopped second-guessing my decisions. Not just my decision to leave him, but every single other one, as well. I questioned the unconventional way I handled his therapy, my decision to get involved with him, my reasoning for leaving him. I also debated if not calling him now was the right idea. No matter how I painted the months with Roman, I could never go more than a day or two convinced of my decisions being the right ones.
The worst part of all my second-guessing is feeling like I gave up on him. When I think about how I promised Roman to help him every step of the way, and then about how I was the one to end things, I want to vomit. I’ve lost more nights of sleep over it than I ever thought possible. I wish I could know that he’s at least doing well, but I refuse to butcher my medical oath any more than I already have just to find out how his therapy is going. The only thing keeping me sane is knowing that he had asked my boss for a referral. The fact that the recommended PT is a really good therapist who has a lot of experience with SCIs is a bonus weight off my shoulders I probably don’t deserve.
Swallowing past the knot in my throat, I slide the movie tickets into my purse. And since I’m already torturing myself with guilt, I give myself a second to think about what it would have been like to go to the movies with Roman. He probably would have mocked me for the giant tub of popcorn I’d order, but he’d also insist on paying for it and then steal a few kernels when he thinks I’m not looking. He would probably pair it with a dinner date after the movie, so we could take our time talking about and analyzing the movie. I bet he would know an annoying amount of behind-the-scenes movie facts.
My heart aches at the thought of it. Because the hardest part of the hard days is simply that…I miss him .
I let out a bone-weary sigh as I pull my jacket out of my locker. I had been planning on distracting myself with a deep clean in the gym, but since the ticket is for tonight, I guess my plans are changing.
I’ve reached some new state of unfeeling by the time I park at the movie theater. It’s probably a good thing that Fran bought tickets for a showing only an hour after she presented them, because even that twenty-minute drive gave me too much time to get lost in my own head. Specifically, to get lost in memories of when Roman and I won tickets to the movies.
I’m too busy thinking about how this probably would have been the movie we would have picked to pay much attention as I walk toward the movie theater entrance. It isn’t until a tingle runs over my skin that I think to look around.
It’s…Roman.
I think my heart stops beating at first glance—my breathing definitely stops when I see him. Because he’s here, yes, but also because…he’s walking . He’s standing on his own two feet, using two forearm crutches to brace himself, and he’s moving slowly but steadily toward me.
My eyes go wide at the sight of him, desperate to take in every new detail. And there are a lot . It’s not just the lack of his wheelchair, it’s differences in his appearance, and in his vibe. He looks like an entirely different person.
His hair has grown out, no longer the lazy buzzcut he had a few months ago. There are no bags under his eyes, no sallow tint to his skin. And he looks big . His chest and arms have filled out with even more muscle than he had before, and his legs look strong now, too. Physically, he looks more like the Roman I met that very first night.
But as far as his aura…he doesn’t feel like the first or second Roman I got to know.
There’s a calmness in his eyes now, a confidence that feels more like self-realization than the arrogance it used to be. He seems sure of himself. There’s no anger, no self-hatred, nothing in his expression that makes him look like a lost little boy. He looks like…a man . A self-assured man who knows who he is and what he wants.
And he’s looking at me .
“Hey, Doc,” he says in a deep voice that sends sparks scattering beneath my skin. He keeps his eyes trained on me, a soft smile just barely visible on his lips.
“Roman,” I say on an exhale. I clear my throat and try again. “Oh my God…you’re walking .”
He looks down at his crutches, his smile growing. “I am. I had a bunch of great therapists, so I guess it’s about time.”
My heart starts to beat so powerfully at that, I lift my hand to my chest and subconsciously rub the space where I can feel it hammering. My eyes are also burning, and it takes me two tries to get any words out.
“So…the PT my boss recommended worked out then?”
Roman watches me for a moment, but in a way that I can’t read. After a moment, he nods and says, “Dr. Martin, yeah. He’s great.” His lip quirks with amusement. “He hurt my feelings a lot less than I’m used to in a rehab environment, but we’ve accomplished what we set out to.”
A wet laugh bursts out of me. “I feel like I should apologize, but I don’t really want to.”
The smile he gives me is warm, and it does things to me I can’t understand in this emotional whirlwind. “I don’t want you to, either,” he says.
I hesitate for a moment, then slowly take a step toward Roman. “Are you still working with him? I mean, where are you in your PT?”
He studies me, and this time, I can read his expression. It’s adoration.
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he asks softly. “You go right back to caring.”
I’m already moving, already one step closer to him. “I never stopped caring,” I whisper, close enough now that I need to look up to meet his eyes.
His throat moves with a swallow, his eyes dipping to my mouth before meeting mine again, emotions flickering in his gaze. But he still answers my question. “Yeah, I’m still working with him. I like his methods. I’ll probably keep him for a while.”
Relief warms my body. “Good, I’m glad,” I say with a smile.
And then all small talk, all softness disappears from the air, and everything sobers with the intensity of his eyes on me. He leans his crutches against the wall, then turns back to me and says simply, “You were right, you know.”
I suck in a breath. I have no idea what he’s about to say, but I’m hoping so hard that I was right about one thing in particular that I can’t breathe around the feeling.
His smile his sad, his voice tender. “I needed to do it on my own. You were right to make me.”
And if I thought my relief was great before, it’s nothing compared to what I feel when he says that.
“I’m so, so grateful that I had you with me in the beginning,” he starts, taking a step closer, “because I was in dire need of a kick in the ass. You were exactly what I needed at that point in my life. And I appreciate you so much for it. But…” His eyes take on a shine that just makes my eyes burn again. “But I needed to take that final step on my own.”
He lets out a stuttered exhale, and I wonder if he feels relief, too. Like maybe he’s been wanting to say this out loud.
And now that they’re out, it’s like the dam has broken, and all the other thoughts come rushing out.
“At first, everything felt meaningless,” he says. “I knew I’d never get back to the life I had, so even trying felt pointless. I couldn’t wrap my head around what a life without fighting looked like and, honestly, a part of me didn’t want to. But…then you came around, and you made it feel like a rehabilitation goal was not only worthwhile, but achievable. You gave me hope , Liliana. You…revived me.” He smiles and reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, a hurricane of emotions swirling in his eyes. But just as quickly, his hand drops and he looks away. “I should’ve realized sooner that I had subconsciously started to convince myself that walking would magically fix everything. That if I could just walk, I would feel like myself again, and that I would regain everything I had lost. Because I still felt like I was missing myself.”
He pulls in a shaky breath, seemingly composing himself. And this time when he turns back to me, he’s wearing the same look I noticed when he walked over: the look of a self-assured man.
His voice is quiet but strong when he says, “It took the kick in the ass that you gave me to remember I was already whole. To realize that I had become so focused on what I lost that I forgot to look at what I have. You reminded me how much good I have in my life. I just needed to give myself permission to explore it. To start living again.”
The need to hug him, to tell him I’m so proud of him, is becoming overwhelming, but I also don’t want to interrupt him.
“And I’m sorry you ever felt like that pressure was on you,” he says in a near-whisper, his voice rife with emotion. “Your only job was to help with my physical rehab. I never should have let you feel like you needed to carry the burden of my mental health problems, or—God forbid—my self-worth. And I’m so, so sorry you ever felt like you needed to.”
“I would have,” I admit, unable to stay quiet at this point. “If I thought it would help you, if it would have brought happiness into your life, I would have. In a heartbeat.”
He smiles, his hand coming up to cup my face. His thumb brushes over my cheek, the touch leaving a trail of warmth on my skin. “I know,” he says affectionately. “It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”
I suck in a startled breath. I don’t know if I’m more caught off guard by his casual confession, or the look in his eyes as he says it.
Part of me wonders if he even realizes what he just said. Especially when his next words are, “It’s also one of the reasons I hate myself for putting your job in jeopardy. I was a selfish prick for risking your career like that, and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”
“Roman, no .” I reach up to cup the hand still holding my face. “We did that together; that’s not on you. I don’t even hate you for that.”
His lips lift in another warm smile, his thumb smoothing over my cheek again. But after a moment, he sighs and drops his hand. “I’m just glad nothing happened. Partly because I never could have forgiven myself, but also because I didn’t deserve the privilege to have you like that. And…” An intensity flares in his eyes that takes my breath away once again. “I don’t know if I deserve it now, but I think I’m dying without you. I couldn’t go another day without seeing you and telling you thank you and, God , you’re just so beautiful.”
I choke on a sob, my hand coming up to cover my mouth. I’m too overwhelmed to respond, so Roman takes this opportunity to take my face in his hands—both hands, this time—and look down at me with a level of longing that I never thought I’d see again.
“Liliana…” The sound of my name on his lips is the best thing I’ve ever heard. “I miss you. Every single day. And I’m so grateful for you. You saved my life. And hopefully, I’ll never be able to return the favor, but I’d love to return it with other things, instead. Happiness. Comfort. Excitement. Love. So, Liliana…” He smiles then, so much love and tenderness in his eyes that I think my heart might fly right out of my chest. “Will you do me the honor of going to the movies with me?”
A laugh bubbles past my lips. “ That’s your question? That was a lot of buildup for a movie invite.”
Grinning, his hands drop to my waist. “I thought I’d start with an easy one.”
Chuckling, I tell him, “I would like nothing more than to see a movie with you. And it’s perfect timing because my boss already got me a ticket.”
Somehow, Roman’s grin grows even bigger. “She may have been the one who gave it to you, but...”
My mouth drops open. “You set this all up?” Then, with even more shock, I exclaim, “Wait…are you saying my boss was your wing woman? ”
Roman lets out a loud laugh that makes my heart triple in size. “I never thought of it like that, but yeah, I guess she was.” He sobers, and adds, “She’s been very helpful since I last saw you. With a number of things.”
I start smiling and shaking my head at that, but Roman seems to have the opposite reaction. As if he’s suddenly reminded of something, all humor drops from his face and his hands tighten on my hips.
“You didn’t get in trouble with anything, did you?” he asks, concerned. “It was obvious that she knew about us, but she also implied that you still had your license and your job, so I’m assuming nothing too terrible came of…all of this.” His concern shifts to mild panic. “Am I right? You’re okay at work? Because if anything happened to you because of my bullshit, I’ll?—”
I gently press a hand against his mouth, unable to stop my growing smile. God, I’ve missed him .
“I’m fine, Roman, I promise,” I tell him. “I came clean to Fran and we worked it out. Everything is good.”
Relief fills his eyes. Before I can remove my hand from his mouth, I feel the gentlest kiss against my palm.
I feel warm all over just from that light touch, and when his gaze drops to my lips, a heat flares in them that makes it suddenly hard to breathe. I drop my hand from his mouth to rest on his chest.
“Am I allowed to kiss you?” he asks. “I refuse to do anything anymore that’s not by the book, so if it’s inappropriate?—”
I cut him off with a kiss of my own.
He sinks into it with a groan of relief.
I cling to him, my hands fisting in his shirt as his wrap around me, the feeling entirely mutual.
I don’t know which one of us eventually pulls back, but Roman’s forehead drops to mine, his eyes sliding closed. It lets me look at him, lets me truly take in this moment of contentment. And I can’t help asking in a whisper, “Did you just tell me you love me?”
His eyes open and he straightens slightly, though his hands stay on me so he can keep me close. “I did. You don’t need to say it back, that’s not why I?—”
“I love you, too, Roman.”
His eyes widen.
“And I missed you. So much.”
And then Roman is the one initiating the kiss, his lips taking mine with a desperation that wasn’t there a minute ago. I give into it with a sigh, comforted by the need thrumming beneath Roman’s touch.
We’re both breathing a little heavier when we pull back this time. He only moves so far as to lean his forehead against mine before saying, “So, about that movie…”