Chapter 42
Lark
TWO YEARS LATER . . .
“I think the blue dress is pretty, but the red reads sexy doctor alert.”
“Amanda,” I whisper, “my dad is in the next room. The last thing he wants to hear about is his daughter being sexy.”
She stands from the bed, glancing from the door back to me. “He’s going to hear about it eventually because you, my friend, are smokin’ hot.” She touches the tip of her finger to her ass and sizzles. “Pure fire.”
I can’t stop laughing. “You need to visit more often. You’re good for my self-esteem.
” I give in to the fun and wiggle my hips.
I look in the mirror, running my hands over my hips where the curve is more pronounced.
My breasts are a little fuller. My hair, just below my shoulder blades, is longer than I’ve worn it since I was little.
The skintight dress doesn’t allow me to hide any flaws. I could have slipped on shapewear to flatten my stomach, but I don’t mind the natural shape. Amanda’s right. I smile, staring back at not only the doctor I’ve become, but I do look like pure fire.
“You talked me into it. I’m going with the red.” This is a nice departure from my usual uniform of a sweatshirt and leggings. I’m glad I splurged . . . well, bought it with one of the gift cards. Wearing this dress does make me feel sexy and a little bad under the good-girl graduation gown.
“Wise choice.” Walking toward the bedroom door, she says, “We’re heading over to the auditorium. I want a good seat so I can see.”
“Don’t stress about it. You see me all the time.”
“Who says I was talking about seeing you? I’m going to be in a room full of doctors. I bet a few cuties are looking for a girlfriend.”
I laugh as I go back into the bathroom for one last touch-up.
“Geez, thanks,” I tease. I lean in and then grab a washrag.
Amanda said I needed to look the part of a doctor, but judging by how heavy she layered on the makeup, I think she’s confusing nightclubbing with making hospital rounds.
I tone it down just a little to find more of me under it all.
I slip on my heels, then dig through my small bag as I walk into the living room. “I can’t fit much in here. Look, my phone and lip gloss. That’s about it.”
“Umm, Lark.”
“What is it?” I dig my ID out of my wallet, then one of the gift cards I’ve been spoiled with the last four years, shoving them both in my crossbody purse.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come to rely on that money, but it served its purpose, which I assume was to make my life a little easier.
I didn’t need to get a job or skip buying a book that I needed to study.
I’ve also saved half of the cards. One day, I’ll give them back, fully loaded again.
If I’m not ever given the chance, I’ll mail them to Harbor’s parents, from whom I received the sweetest card and money order for five-hundred bucks to help me settle into the next stage of life. Marina added at the bottom—or to take a vacation.
I like her way of thinking. I could use a break, but my residency starts next week. No rest for the weary and I’m definitely weary.
When I realize Amanda still hasn’t replied, I look up.
A large blue box with silver trim and gray ribbons stands upright on my table, blocking my view of her. “What is that?” I ask, clutching my purse with both hands.
From the couch, my dad says, “Just got delivered.” He starts clicking through the TV stations like he’s going to be here for a while. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
Amanda and I exchange a look, both of us blinking quickly for some reason. You’d think we’d never been around fancy boxes before . . . okay, we’ve been around them, but not so much received them.
There’s no name across the box. Who would send me something that looks this expensive? I ask, “Who is it from?”
“I don’t know.” My friend touches the box like it might bite back. “There’s a card.”
I slip it from under the ribbon and open the small envelope. “I’m so fucking proud of you – H. H.? . . . Oh shit.” I cover my mouth and glance at my dad like I might get in trouble for swearing. “Sorry.”
He laughs, knowing that’s exactly what I did. “Not much I can say about it, Pip. You’re a doctor now.”
And twenty-six, but I’ll always be his little girl.
Holding the card, I read it again. And then again.
My hands don’t shake anymore when I think of Harbor, but my heart still races.
Amanda asks, “Who’s H? . . . Oh shit.” She covers her mouth when it dawns on her, then grabs my wrist like she’s the one who needs support.
I never told her or my dad that I saw him one night, a couple of years back. I don’t know why he came to see me in New Haven. Sometimes I spend hours lying in bed thinking about that night and if I had given him a chance to speak his mind. Not that I owe him a thing. I don’t.
Not for the apartment.
Not for the gift cards.
Not for anything.
I didn’t ask him to do any of it. He did it because he felt guilty for leaving. Plain and simple. So I’m not sure why he’s giving a gift that, knowing him, is expensive, but there is no way in hell I’m keeping it. I look at Amanda, and say, “I thought you guys were going?”
“Not since this arrived. Are you going to open it?”
I’m already shaking my head when I reply, “No. I’m not. I’m going to send it back to him.”
“Who are you sending it back to?” my dad asks, clicking off the TV. He stands and adjusts his waistband before walking to my side and giving me a quick hug.
“To the sender,” I say, keeping it vague. I lift and kiss his cheek, hoping to distract him from the gift. “Thanks for driving in for the ceremony.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” He walks to the door, holding it open. “You ready, Amanda?”
She grabs her purse and over her shoulder to me, she says, “See you soon, Doctor.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” I say with a soft laugh, my eyes drifting back to the box. “See you soon.”
My gaze dips back down to the card when I’m left alone with it. It’s not full of sweet nothings, but it packs a punch. Harbor always did.
When temptation grows, I warn myself, “Do not open it, Lark.” Nothing good will come of opening a present from him, just like nothing good came from a relationship with him.
Though I’m not sure how anything in such a pretty box could sour a mood, I remind myself there’s a hell of a good chance it could affect me negatively, send my emotions spiraling, and ruin this graduation like he did the last one.
Throwing my hands up, I state, “Nope. I’m not doing it,” and walk away to grab my cap and gown. I leave, locking the door behind me. It’s the only way to keep me from tearing that box open.
I hurry across campus, filing in with the others flooding the auditorium.
Once I find the other graduates, I take a deep breath to calm down.
These heels are torture. Who thought rushing around a large campus would be a good idea?
That would be me, guilty as charged. Too late to change my shoes now.
Since the other graduates are milling around, I sneak into the bathroom to put on my cap and gown and fix my hair one last time.
The curls softened just as I hoped and the lighter strands that always appear with the warmer months have started to shine through my lighter brown hair. I smile, realizing I should have given Amanda more credit. My makeup is pretty in this lighting and makes the color of my green eyes pop.
From the dress to the makeup to the hair, and even to the stunning black shoes, I feel incredible, the best I’ve ever felt.
Oddly, the most adult I’ve ever felt as well.
Grown. I’ve grown so much over the past four years.
I had to. The shock of Harbor exiting my life without notice gave me no room to back away from moving forward.
I was already falling apart. I would continue to shatter until nothing remained of me, or I would follow through with my dreams.
It doesn’t matter that a part of me, a smaller part than I realized now when I’m looking back, went to medical school to spite him.
No. It only matters that I now have a prefix that I worked my butt off to earn. The M.D. at the end isn’t shabby either. Dr. Lark Summerlin, M.D. I feel good, like the clouds are finally starting to clear.
When I return to the hall, I find my spot just as we start walking.
I should be excited, but my intuition begs for attention.
This is a huge achievement, my dream come true, so why can’t I get this feeling of dread to subside?
It’s probably the pain from my last graduation still haunting me.
I need to brush it off. This is my second chance and a greater achievement. Enjoy it, Lark.
I find my seat and resist the urge to look around. I spent most of my college ceremony searching for Harbor instead of listening to the speeches. I’m going to make a concerted effort to live here in the present this time. I just wish I could shake this odd feeling.
Not the dread.
The sense that Harbor is near, his eyes on me, grazing the length of my body, or that the butterflies in my stomach just awoke after years of hibernating.
I should hate him. He wouldn’t blame me.
But instead, I find my thoughts of him, and what we used to be, have begun to mellow.
That’s only natural. The mind plays tricks like that to help one cope with reality.
He’s thinking about me.
Still, after all these years.
Still, even after telling him to go away the last time he showed up here.
There’s a small seed of satisfaction trying to bloom inside my belly from the knowledge that he’s still thinking about me. At least the butterflies will have something to nibble on. If he weren’t, there wouldn’t be an ungodly expensive gift at my apartment still waiting for me to open.
Stop doing this. There’s nothing to gain from this exercise. The one thing I never allowed myself to delve into was the idea of revenge. It was an easier road to take some nights in my head, but it wouldn’t serve me well to travel it.
It wouldn’t change what happened.
It would have only changed me.
Curiosity is killing more than the cat, so I finally look around. Amanda waves at me, and my dad sits a little straighter. I don’t see anyone else I know. They’re probably just parents of other graduates, so I breathe easier now.
The ceremony begins, and although my intentions were good to focus on the speakers, my mind drifts to what comes next instead. More change and bigger moves have been made with each stage of my life. And I move farther from my dad. I look back, stealing a glimpse of him before he notices.
He’s always been a handsome man. He also doesn’t lack attention from the women of Beacon.
He may not be rich like those who reside in The Pointe Estates, but he has a busy mechanic shop and grills a mean meal.
He never really dated because he put his energy into being there for me and supporting my journey every step of the way.
John Summerlin would never say it, but I know it breaks his heart that I’m settling in the city. He understands because he’s my dad. One day, I’ll make his sacrifices worth it. I don’t know how, but I will. He deserves nothing less.
As for the residency in New York, I got the confirmation this week and scored a small studio a few blocks away from the hospital, subletting from a resident who didn’t get a job offer. I have no intention of letting that happen to me.
Two hours later, I walk across the stage and am introduced as a doctor. I shake the dean’s hand and then turn toward the audience knowing Amanda told me to pose for a photo. I grin under their cheers, embarrassment setting in from the attention.
I exit the stage and return to my seat. That feels relatively uneventful, and I’m not upset by it.
I almost half expected to see Harbor seated in the audience, but there was no sign of him.
I should be relieved, but my emotions are twisting, which leaves me more confused.
I got what I wanted—a regular graduation ceremony.
I should be happy . . .
Everyone stands, filling the auditorium with cheers. I stand quickly and catch up to the reveling. I did it. This was the dream, my goal.
As the crowd disperses into the foyer and drains onto the surrounding sidewalks, I take off the robe because I’m feeling anxious and sit back down.
Amanda and my dad are waiting on me outside, but my breath comes heavy in my chest as a myriad of feelings overwhelms me.
I drop my head into my hands, closing my eyes, and just flow with the river of emotions inside me.
“Is it everything you ever hoped it would be?”
The dulcet tone that always fit night like a glove—seductive and deep.
His proximity wrapping around me like a blanket.
A warmth that seeps inside me that I know extends to the clarity of his brown eyes.
Harbor.