Chapter 4
4
Cate
“When was your last orgasm, Cate?”
I’ve learned to control my reaction when my patients try to shock me, but I’ve barely had time to set my bag on the table. So I fail today and pick my jaw off the retirement home floor. Adjusting the lapel of my white coat, I stretch my neck and try to reason my way back to calm, cool, and collected. “I think you meant to ask me how my day is going. Right, Maggie?”
“Nope.” She pops the p, digging her heels in deeper, and stares at me with her vibrant green eyes, still expecting an answer.
Pulling out a chair for her, I won’t egg her on by smiling, but a straight face is hard to maintain. I love how curious she is about others. She’s kept her mind sharp and her wit intact. I only wish her curiosity didn’t extend into my personal life. I’m not looking to feel bad about my recent lack-of-orgasms streak because one of my eighty-seven-year-old patients is looking for entertainment. I ask, “Were you always such a firecracker?”
“Yes. Was it recently?” She sits in the chair, facing away from me. “Achieved solo or by a partner?”
“Maggie,” I caution with care. Knowing her for two years now, I shouldn’t be so surprised by the intrusive line of questioning, but I still find myself having to restrain the shock from shaping my face. “That’s inappropriate to ask your nurse.”
She waves her hand in front of a scoff. “I gave up on being appropriate after my seventy-fifth birthday. I should have given it up when I was young and had a long life ahead. I missed out on so much choosing to be appropriate instead.” Nodding her head, she adds, “Who cares what others think.”
Her gaze lengthens across the room, landing on Mr. Rigsby. Looking up at me, she smiles. “Marty Freedleman asked me to make out in the back of his parents’ 1955 Chrysler when I was eighteen. It was green with a sporty white stripe that matched the roof. What a car. What a man.” Her tone is dreamy as if she can see him now. “He looked like a movie star standing in front of it.”
I imagine Maggie was quite the catch herself. She still is. After winning Ms. Parkdale last month, she’s been wearing her sash daily. I rest my hand on her shoulder and place my stethoscope to her back. “Did you take him up on his offer?”
“That’s inappropriate to ask your patient,” she says with a devious side-grin that has me raising an eyebrow.
“Is that a yes?”
Her hand covers mine with reassuring pressure, and she glances up at me over her shoulder. “No, I didn’t, but I should have. I could just tell Marty was a great kisser. Have you ever had that feeling about someone?”
It’s been a while . . . Oh wow, I can’t remember the last time. I tick through all the bad dates I’ve had this year, and not one person would fit that description. Should I be sad no one evokes that emotion? Or glad I didn’t settle for less? “Maybe a long time ago.”
She laughs. “Oh honey, you don’t know what a long time is. Why do you think I asked about your org?—”
“Follow my finger.” I shine a light in her eyes and move it back and forth. When I lower it, I add, “Your lungs have cleared.”
“Uh-huh. I see what you did there, Nurse Cate.” I don’t get much past her. “Want some advice?”
I give her all the time she needs. “Sure, I’d like that.”
“I still love my husband dearly.” Henry passed years ago, but the sadness still hangs on her expression when she mentions him. My heart clenches just as she pats my hand and then shifts; the lightness of her usual personality returns the smile to her face. “But I regret being appropriate before I met him.” Releasing a deep breath, she hums. “And I suppose since he passed.”
If I’d been drinking a margarita, this would have been spew-worthy. “Keep doing what you’re doing. It’s working. Great checkup. The candy is in the bowl by Nurse Sandra.” I stand back up and redirect my attention to my e-pad to make notes, hoping she doesn’t loop this back to orgasms again because, frankly, it’s been too long. I know it, and I suspect she can tell just by looking at me. “You’re good to go. Stay hydrated per my usual recommendation, plenty of rest, and less needling Mrs. Louis.”
Standing abruptly, she glares across the room. She can start a fire with only a look. “Daphne Louis talked to you, didn’t she?”
“I’m not getting in the middle of?—”
“I knew it.” She fists her hands and whips her gaze to me. “She’s such a snitch.”
“I don’t think getting yourself worked up over?—”
“You know what she told me at gardening club on Tuesday?” There’s no stopping her, so I let her vent. And secretly, I love to hear the Parkdale gossip. It’s incredible what riles the residents up. Last week, it was sweet peas. A whole faction will only eat sweet corn, not the peas.
“What did she say?” When she keeps staring, I grow concerned. “Maggie?”
She grabs my arm, and says, “Good gracious, Cate.”
“What is it?”
Running her fingers along the underside of the sash, she perks up—wide eyes and a smile that probably won Henry’s heart. “They didn’t make men like that in my day.”
“What?”
“You think he ever dated a beauty queen?”
“Who are you talking about?” I follow her gaze to the front doors. The bright afternoon sun sneaks in, keeping a man in the shadow of a silhouette. Sunglasses shield his eyes until he turns in our direction and tugs them off.
Oh God.
He’s here.
At my job.
Inside Parkdale Retirement Community.
Shane Faris.
The most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
My husband.
I bite my lip to savor that for a hot second until I remember what I’m wearing. Dammit. Anything in my closet would have been better than an ill-fitting beige skirt and a matching blouse that ties in a droopy bow at the neck, making me look like I’m auditioning to play the part of a Parkdale couch in this scenario. Absolutely nothing about this outfit is sexy while he’s looking every bit the rock star.
Naturally.
“There’s always a first if he hasn’t,” she whispers.
“Maggie, please behave,” I beg under my breath as a kaleidoscope of fluttering fills my stomach.
Twisting her sash, she marches forward. It’s at that moment I realize she has no intention of behaving, and worse, she’s going to take me down with her. Clearly, we’re meant to be best friends.
“Sir, could you help me with this?” she asks, suddenly sounding like a doting great-grandmother in a TV Christmas movie instead of the spitfire she is.
“Of course.”
She turns, facing me with a smug smile, and I swear I detect a devious glint in her eyes. Trouble.
Shane’s eyes find mine, and a slight smirk comes into play. Then he says, “You’re good to go, Mrs.—?”
“Mrs. Winston but call me Maggie.”
“Hi, I’m Shane.”
Not letting an opportunity pass her by, she squeezes his bicep and then glances my way as if to tease me. That little minx. “You’re so big and strong, Shane,” she says, making me think maybe she lied and did make out with Marty Freedleman. I wouldn’t put it past her after seeing her in action.
“Thanks, Maggie. I work out regularly.”
“It’s paying off.”
Chuckling under his breath, he looks from her to me again and nods in my direction. “Would you mind escorting me to see?—”
“Nurse Cate?” she asks, grabbing his arm and staring up at him like he’s James Dean reincarnated. “She’s single, and it’s been a long time since she’s had an orgasm.”
I cease to exist, withering from the inside out from mortification.
“Is that right?” His Mediterranean Sea–blue eyes lock onto mine while the most roguish grin I ever did see escapes him.
Unfortunately, I still exist in this reality where my orgasm history is on display for everyone. I try to hide the humiliation inside, to act like the little lady is so funny and full of tall fables. “Ha. Ha. Ha.” I laugh, but it sounds so fake that I start laughing for real.
Dragging him over to where I’ve set up for my appointments today, she presents me like an entry in a pie contest with her hands stretched forward, displaying her baked goods. “And here she is.”
I’m too caught up in the way he’s devouring me whole to care about Maggie’s antics. I swear that look alone could do me in, and the way he drags the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip has me biting mine. With a smile tugging the corners right up, he says, “Hello, Nurse Cate.”
And this is how I happily die . . .
Swooned to death right here on the cold tile. All that will remain of me will be a white coat and an e-pad.
Bringing me back to life by pinching my arm, Maggie says, “When I talk about being inappropriate, this is the type of man I’m talking about.”
“I’ll take him from here . . . I mean it . . . him. You know what I mean. Have a great day, Maggie.”
“Have fun, you two.” She gives his arm a little squeeze as she leaves.
We both watch her walk away, a hint of silence leaving just enough room for me to grow nervous.
When Shane turns back, he says, “It’s been a while, huh?”
“It’s not been that long. I mean, if I really think back to the last time— Oh , you mean since we’ve seen each other?” I nod, about to bob my head right off my neck. “Yes, so long. Anyway, she’s only four-eleven, but Maggie’s a total menace. You can’t believe everything she says.”
“How long has it been?” His voice is smooth like whiskey. It would be easy to get drunk off the tone alone.
“Well, we were eighteen at the—” I facepalm myself. “You mean since my last . . .” I shake my head. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Like how good it is to see you?”
“Yes, I approve of that topic.” Feeling every bit the schoolgirl talking to her crush, I look down at my shoes quickly but can’t stop myself from staring into his eyes again. “It’s good to see you, too, Shane.”
Standing so sure of himself in front of me, he seems to have his life together, unlike the mess I am in his presence. He says, “You haven’t changed.”
Oh great. I’ve always been like this? I lick my lips, but my throat goes dry. Trying to clear it, I briefly turn away also hoping to catch the breath that escaped. I clear my throat again. Why am I so nervous?
I graduated summa cum laude from the University of Michigan.
Scored a coveted position in gerontology while earning my master’s degree.
Worked my ass off to save a downpayment plus earnest money for a house all on my own.
So how is it that a guy I knew from high school, who also happens to be famous, has managed to turn me into my eighteen-year-old self, hoping to be kissed next to a bonfire in a matter of minutes in his presence?
I clasp my hands in front of me and raise my chin. I refuse to act like a fan in front of him, even if I am one. “What brings you to Parkdale?”
He looks behind him, then drags his chin over his shoulder when his eyes return to me. “I was in the area.”
Why does he have to be so attractive? Still.
“Yeah?” I feel my cheeks heating just looking at him. Wearing a T-shirt faded to gray with the sleeves hugging his biceps and a pair of jeans that have seen the wash more than a few times are hanging just right on him. I swear his jaw is modeled after the cliffs of La Jolla, with a dusting of scruff covering it. Even his hair is giving a rolled-out-of-bed sexy mess vibe. But I remember his eyes looking into mine like he could see the future.
Or maybe that’s just how he makes me feel inside.
“No.” He chuckles. “I was nowhere near, but I got your message, so I took a chance and drove over.”
“Ah.” I didn’t expect to feel different around him now that he’s a rock star, but I’m almost starstruck enough to have forgotten I called, that I’m married to this man, and will have to explain the mess we’re in when I don’t even fully understand the situation.
It’s disappointing we couldn’t carry on like old friends for a little longer. I’m not sure how he’ll take the news, but I think it probably won’t go well. Shaken from the fairy tale, the reality of our predicament kicks back in, and I say, “I’ll be off work soon. Do you want to wait?”
“I’ll wait for you.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he says, “I’ll be in my car.”
“Alright. I’ll be done soon.”
He turns to leave, but I catch him looking back over his shoulder, giving me a smile with so much potential. Too bad I’m about to ruin this reunion for us both.
I find the next file and call, “Mrs. Louis?”
Looking pretty in yellow, she comes over and sits in the chair. “I heard Maggie is gossiping about me again.”
It’s incredible how Shane Faris walked right back into my life, consuming me whole, and five minutes later, I’m back to playing mediator between two retirees. “I think if you two tried to talk to each?—”
“I’ve tried. The best thing she can do is stick to Tai Chi on Tuesdays and leave me and the gardening club alone.”
My nerves subsided the moment he walked away, so I dig back into helping my patients. This is about to be the longest thirty minutes of my life.
Downside to having to finish work?
Shane Faris waiting for me.
Silver lining?
Shane Faris waiting for me.