Chapter 3 #2
I shake my head. “Not weird at all. After a rough call, I do the same thing.”
“And then?” she prompts, leaning slightly closer.
“Then I usually grab a beer, put on some music—old stuff, Springsteen, The Stones—and try to remember I’m still human.” I find myself admitting things I don’t usually share. “Some nights are harder than others.”
She nods, understanding in her eyes. “I get that. Some days I lose patients I shouldn’t have. Days when I did everything right, but it still wasn’t enough.”
“Those are the worst,” I agree. “When you replay it over and over, looking for what you could’ve done differently.”
“Exact—”
“What’s your middle name?”
She blinks at my sudden change of topic, then breaks into laughter—real laughter that cuts through the bar’s noise and makes my chest feel lighter than it has in weeks. I can’t help but laugh, too, and it’s been so damn long since I heard that sound from myself that it feels almost foreign.
“Marie,” she says, still grinning, tucking an imaginary strand behind her ear even though her hair’s already perfectly in place. “Karina Marie Reyes. My parents wanted something classic and Catholic.”
“Karina Marie,” I repeat, liking how it sounds. “Has a good ring to it. Almost poetic. Mine’s James. Vulcan James Montgomery, which sounds like I should be commanding a starship somewhere, or like I’m a Bond villain.”
She laughs again, and I realize I’m getting addicted to that sound. “I think Vulcan James Montgomery sounds distinguished, actually. Like you should have a leather-bound office and drink expensive whiskey.”
“Well, I’ve got the expensive whiskey part down,” I say, raising my glass. “Still working on the leather-bound office.” I realize I’m grinning like an idiot. When’s the last time a woman made me feel this relaxed?
“So, Vulcan James.” She clears her throat. “What inspired you to become a firefighter? Was it the allure of the uniform? The chance to be a real-life hero?”
“Nah, nothing that noble. I just figured if I was going to spend my days running into burning buildings, I might as well get paid for it.” I swivel to face her again, enjoying the way the bar light’s amber glow throws shadows off her long eyelashes.
“More than that, though, my father was a firefighter, and his father was before him, and so on. It’s become somewhat of a family thing. ”
“Ah yes, Thomas Montgomery. I’ve heard of his legacy as a firefighter and station captain. Well, I’m glad you did become a firefighter; the world needs more people like you.” She pauses, searching my eyes. “But if you hadn’t joined in the family tradition, what would you have wanted to become?”
“A chef.”
“So you love to cook?”
“I do.” I smile. “Maybe I could cook for you sometime.”
“Maybe…” She lifts up her shot glass before setting it back down when she notices it’s empty.
“And you? Why did you decide to become a doctor?” I ask, then signal the bartender for a couple of waters. I’m not sure if she works tomorrow, but she’ll be regretting the lack of hydration after the three shots of tequila and Long Island she’s put away since I joined her.
“I always knew I wanted to help people,” Karina says, her voice taking on a more serious tone.
“My papà was in a fatal car accident when I was sixteen. The doctors who tried to save him were amazing, but what stuck with me was how they explained everything to us. My parents are from the Dominican Republic and moved to the States three years before I was born, so for the doctors to be as thorough and patient as they were with mother, who still barely spoke English at the time… it meant everything to our family.” She drags her shot glass through the pool of condensation on the bar.
“I wanted to be that person for someone else. To be that doctor who doesn’t make people feel small or stupid for not understanding. ”
I don’t interrupt as she talks and instead unscrew the top of the water bottle, handing it to her.
“Thank you.” She smiles, her cheeks tinting as she accepts it.
“That’s a hell of a calling,” I say. “Beats following the family way.”
“I don’t know about that,” she replies, then takes a long sip of water before continuing. “There’s something beautiful about carrying on a legacy. Your father must’ve been proud when you became captain.”
“He died before he could witness it happen, but I like to think he would have approved.”
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, her hand moving tentatively toward mine. When her fingers brush against my knuckles, I feel a jolt of electricity that has nothing to do with the alcohol I’ve consumed.
“It was a while ago,” I manage, suddenly very aware of how close we’re sitting. “But thank you.”
Past Karina’s shoulder, on the other side of the bar, I see Harry giving me an overly enthusiastic thumbs-up.
I send him a warning look, though I can’t stop the smile that’s forming on my face.
As the evening progresses, I find myself hoping it will last forever.
It’s been ages since I connected with someone so easily.
Karina is like a breath of fresh air, and I think about how many times I must have passed her in the halls of St. Mary’s and never noticed.
However, the crowd begins to thin out as the bar empties for the night.
Before long, our friends rejoin us, and Cassie’s barely suppressing her yawns.
“I should probably get going,” Karina says reluctantly, glancing at her watch. “Early shift tomorrow and Cass looks like she’s about to pass out at any moment.”
I find myself desperate to see Karina again, worried this chance encounter won’t be repeated. As they gather their things, I gently grasp her arm.
“Can I take you out sometime?”
She looks surprised, then smiles. Not a smile that conveys a yes, but a smile like she’s going to let me down gently. “I’d like that, but my schedule—”
“How about we exchange numbers? Let’s start there first.” I already have my phone out, not giving her a chance to come up with an excuse. She nods and we say our goodbyes, then I watch her walk away, her dark hair swaying down her back.
“So, what did you think of her?” Harry asks, nudging my arm.
I take a sip of my drink to buy myself a moment. I think she’s the most captivating woman I’ve ever met.
“She seems great,” I say finally, aiming for a nonchalant tone.
“Just great? It looked to me like you two hit it off. Do I hear wedding bells in the future?”
“You’re pushing it. She’s easy to talk to and nice to look at.” Her beauty is just a bonus.
“Come on, Vul, you looked like you were ready to devour her.”
I shake my head, but a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “What would you like to hear me say? That she’s… amazing?”
“I mean, that’s a start. Only, don’t go falling in love with her just because she’s the first woman you’ve talked to in months. You’re just getting your feet wet.”
“There’s this connection despite the age difference, and fucking hell is it a difference.” She told me she’s twenty-seven, a solid twelve years younger than me. That alone should be enough not to want to see her again; she’s even younger than my little sister.
He scoffs, looking completely unfazed. “Did she say it bothered her?” he asks.
“Well, I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”
“I didn’t want to ruin the mood,” he mocks. “I think you’re fine.”
“Maybe you’re right.” I shouldn’t overthink this.
“I know I am.” Harry grins, taking a swig of his beer. “And I saw the way she looked at you. That woman was not thinking about your birth certificate.”
“We’ll see. She’s busy, I’m busy. Life’s complicated.”
“Life’s always complicated, Vulcan. That’s why you gotta grab the good stuff when it shows up. And you’ve got her number. You deserve to be happy, don’t stress.”
“Enough about me.” I changed the subject. “Any chance you’ll be seeing Cassie again?”
Harry rolls his eyes like I’ve just asked the most laughable question in the world. “Not my type,” he declares.
“Since when do you have a type?” I tease, knowing full well that Harry’s not exactly picky when it comes to women.
He leans back, crossing his arms. “Since I found out she lives in Brooklyn. I’m not trying to take the L train in this heat, and it’s going to be crowded.
It’s the last week of June, and we all know the tourists are gearing up to flock here despite how suffocating the weather’s about to get,” he says with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll pass.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. It’s always some excuse with him when he makes a real connection. “You’re going to let the subway kill your game?”
He spreads his hands as if to say, What can you do? “Hey, a guy’s gotta have his limits. Other than that, she’s cool.” He shrugs.
I toss my head back, laughing. Harry will always be Harry, but his commitment to laziness when it comes to romantic partners never fails to amuse me.
I try to convince myself I’m not the least bit disappointed, though.
With those two out of the question, it’ll be harder to tee something up with Karina again.
She’s already got a hold on me, and I hardly know the woman.
Harry and I stick around for another half hour after the girls leave, long enough to catch highlights from the Knicks game and talk more shit over another drink.
Once we step back outside, the cool night air slaps my face and the city’s pulse surrounds us with honking taxis and the distant rumble of a subway.
I’ve always loved the urban heartbeat—it’s alive in a way no other place is, always moving, as if the whole city’s hyped up on caffeine.
“So, you gonna text her?” Harry pushes, elbowing me as we start down the sidewalk. The streetlamps illuminate the wet pavement, and I can only hope it’s water and not piss.
“I don’t want to seem too eager.”
He lets out a low whistle. “I haven’t seen you show interest in someone like this whose life you weren’t saving,” he remarks, slapping me on the back as if that’ll knock some sense into me.
“It’s just fucking, not rocket science. Don’t make it weird.
” He’s got this way of cutting through my bullshit, and although I’d never say it to his face, I kind of need that nudge right now.
My last relationship fizzled out over a decade ago and was mostly due to a lack of effort on both sides.
It was like we were both waiting for something better to come along.
But something about Karina makes me feel hopeful in a way I haven’t in a long time.
She’s got me scared, in a good way. Like if I don’t jump now, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what might have been.
“All right, all right. I’ll text her tomorrow.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Don’t fuck this up, Cap.”
By the time we step off the curb, heading in opposite directions, I’m already second-guessing every detail and wondering if I imagined the connection.
Back at my place, I unlock my door, and the familiar creak snaps me into a new line of thinking.
One where I resolve to stop self-sabotaging.
I toss my keys on the kitchen counter, watching them slide to a stop.
I’m a man who runs into burning buildings for a living.
I should not be this scared to text a woman.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll text her.