Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Marshall
“The ambulance crew was right. Your insulin pump malfunctioned.” The emergency department at Mount Hope Hospital was crowded with a long wait to see this kindly but overworked nurse practitioner.
He was a big bear of a forty-something guy, but he held my pump in a surprisingly delicate grip.
I had a newer model insulin pump controlled via an app on my phone.
“Possibly, it stopped getting data from your glucose monitor, or maybe a phone issue. You’re lucky you weren’t alone when your blood sugar crashed. ”
“Yeah. I am pretty lucky.” I couldn’t believe I was saying that about getting stuck in an elevator, but things could have been worse. “And lucky Rory had a sandwich.”
“Indeed. Be sure to thank Rory for the rest of us.” The nurse practitioner clicked around on his tablet, mouth pursing as he muttered.
Apparently unhappy with whatever he was looking up, he shook his head, returning his attention to me and the ER exam bed where I sat.
“Have you managed your diabetes without the pump before?”
“Of course. I was diagnosed at seven. I’ve had a variety of different management medications and pumps over the years.”
“Good. I’m reluctant to have you put a new pump on if the phone app isn’t working right or the dose isn’t calibrated correctly.
You’re going to want to get in with your endocrinologist ASAP.
In the meantime, you can go with old-school monitoring and meds until the specialist can sort out your pump. I can write you some prescriptions.”
“Thanks. I know the drill.” I’d been expecting as much.
My endocrinologist was back in Portland, but the drive wasn’t terrible.
I had a strong feeling I’d be switching pump brands yet again.
As much as injections sucked while waiting for an appointment, I didn’t want another episode.
“I’ll call her office as soon as we’re done here. ”
I glanced meaningfully at the exam room door.
“Hint taken that you’re ready for discharge, but I don’t want you driving or being alone tonight.”
Crap. I didn’t know that many people in Mount Hope yet. Rory had, however, offered to come along, and I’d been woozy enough to agree.
“A…friend followed the ambulance. I think.”
“Rory with the sandwich?” The nurse practitioner was a good guesser. “Let me check with the front.”
In short order, the burly NP had Rory escorted back to my room while my discharge papers were readied.
“How are you feeling?” Rory asked from the doorway. Despite the late afternoon hour, he looked no worse for the long wait, cute as ever in his Hawaiian shirt with a tentative smile.
“Better.” I motioned him in. “My pump screwed up, so I’m back on injections and manual monitoring. And the nurse practitioner wants to make sure I have a ride home.”
“You do.” Rory nodded enthusiastically.
“And someone to stick around tonight?” the NP added. “Not to put you on the spot, but going from the pump back to injections can be a rough transition. Marshall could use a friend.”
“He’s got one.” Rory’s grin was wide and genuine as ever, despite my whole I-don’t-date-coworkers speech. My stomach clenched around more than hunger though. I hated thinking I’d likely hurt him.
“I can call my parents or something if you can’t stay.”
“And have them come from Portland?” Rory scoffed. “I’m happy to help.”
“Let him help. And I’m going to go check on that paperwork.” With that, the NP was gone, leaving me alone with Rory.
“I feel like I’m taking advantage,” I admitted, kicking my feet against the base of the exam table.
“Of what? My desire to be your friend?” Rory played dumb well, all wide-eyed innocence.
“You know what I mean.”
Rory made a frustrated noise. “Would I like to date you? Yes. Am I planning to bring up the subject again? No. Do I want to be your friend? Very much, yes. And will I take you home and stay with you the same as I would for any friend? Yep. Already asked my dad to stop by and feed my cats.”
“Why am I not surprised you have cats?” Knowing Rory, he likely had multiple rescues he doted on. Predictably, he had pictures of his three at the ready to show me while we waited on my paperwork, and I forgot about feeling awkward about needing help.
Rory drove an ancient but clean compact and continued to seem only too happy to ferry me around.
Luckily, the pharmacy closest to the hospital had the medication I needed ready, so we didn’t have a long wait.
I directed Rory back downtown to my apartment above a jewelry store and within walking distance of the courthouse and our work.
“I love your couch.” Rory headed right for my large red suede couch, a statement piece adorned with colorful throw pillows.
“I allowed my mother to decorate,” I confessed. Left to my own devices, the place would likely be rather barren with shades of gray as I wasn’t nearly as adventurous as my stylish mother. “She had a bit too much fun finding furniture and art.”
“That’s sweet that you let her have free rein though.” Rory had never met the force of nature that was my mother, but I nodded nonetheless.
“She has good taste.” I sat in the Eames-style chair near the couch, careful not to sit too close to Rory.
I’d told the truth in the elevator. I found him cute, funny, and charming, and anyone else would be delighted to date him.
I hated how my old breakup messed with my head, but I didn’t want to screw up our work relationship or tentative friendship.
“Now, what would you like for dinner?” Rory asked.
“You don’t have to cook.”
“Modern science.” He held up his phone. “We’ve both had a day. We’re ordering something with protein. I’m thinking wings from The Heist because they’re close and have other appetizers that aren’t too terrible nutritionally, but feel free to suggest something else.”
“Wings sound great.” I mainly appreciated not having to think overly much about food choices. “I like their smashed potato things. And they do a spinach dip we might be able to count as a vegetable.”
“Done.” Rory clicked around on his phone. “Food will be here in thirty or so.” Stretching, he reached for my remote, easy as if he’d lived here for years. “What would you like to watch?”
In his own understated way, Rory was every bit as much a force as my mother. I knew from experience that giving in to his agenda was easier than protesting.
“Would you want to watch the time-traveling show I was talking about earlier?” I offered. “We could start at episode one. I don’t mind rewatching.”
“I’d love that.” Continuing to take charge of our evening, Rory cued up the show.
When the food arrived, I excused myself to check my pre-meal blood sugar, and Rory plated the food.
I appreciated that he didn’t hover or ask what my reading was.
He treated the evening less like babysitting and more like friends hanging out.
And as the night went on, that was exactly how I felt, like I was hanging out with an old friend, comfortable and familiar.
A friend who loaded the dishwasher and fetched me sparkling water without needing to be asked.
A friend who listened to my fact-laden commentary on the show.
And a friend who happened to be cute as hell when he yawned and stretched out on the couch.
I was still in my chair to avoid any rogue cuddling impulses, a real danger with Rory this close.
“Another episode?” he asked, voice showing signs of the long day.
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch.” I’d been mulling over bedtime arrangements for the last three episodes.
“I promised the nice nurse practitioner.” Rory gave me a pointed look before making a show of arranging a pillow under his head and the cashmere throw my mother had gifted me over his body. His feet stuck out beneath the too-small cover. “I’m fine. See?”
“I meant I have a bed.” My skin heated. “It’s a California king because a queen feels too short for me. We could share.”
“Okay.” Rory drew the word out as he studied me closely. Then, apparently coming to some sort of decision, he stood. “Sharing it is. There’s no way on earth we’re the same size in pants, but do you have a T-shirt I could borrow?”
And so, we ended up in bed, Rory wearing a law school T-shirt of mine, lying on the farthest edge of the bed without being on the floor, pillow tilted away from mine. He was trying so damn hard to keep things platonic.
I don’t want that. The realization slammed into me. Rory would be happy to be friends and would likely never again bring up the awkward question of us dating. We could have an endless string of nights like this one. Or I could take a risk and see what might make those nights even better.
“Rory?” I whispered.
“Yeah?” If anything, he scooted farther away.
“I think I want to go to that event.” When he didn’t immediately reply, I added, “With you.”
“You don’t have to do that.” His voice was the auditory equivalent of a frown. “I told you. I was happy to help you out today. As a friend.”
“I might want to be more than friends,” I admitted.
“Oh.” Rory inhaled sharply. So much hope in that single syllable. “I meant what I said earlier. I’ll wait for you. After I graduate, I might end up working elsewhere if Jillian can’t find funding for a social work position. If you want to wait until we’re not coworkers to date, I can wait.”
“But you shouldn’t have to.” I reached for his hand in the dark. “And I don’t want to.”
“Oh good.” Using our joined hands as leverage, he finally inched more toward me, letting our shoulders touch and his foot nudge mine. “I’m in favor of that plan.”
“Good.” I rolled onto my side. It had been ages since I’d kissed someone and far longer since I’d cared so deeply about getting it right.
I leaned in, giving him plenty of time to flee for the other side of the bed again, but he met me more than halfway.
I brushed my mouth over his, a soft, sweet introduction.
Rory hummed, a small, happy noise that also thrummed through me.
He kissed me back, matching my restraint.
We traded leisurely, lovely kisses, no hurry at all.
After my blood sugar yo-yo of a day, I doubted sex was on the table for me, but kissing I could do.
Besides, I wanted to draw this out, make all the little moments last.
“Rory?” I whispered against his lips. “Let’s make it our last first date.”
“Deal.”