Chapter 29
AVERY MOORE
FOUR MONTHS LATER
Him
Happy Birthday, baby girl.
I stare at the screen while waiting in a stingy hospital office waiting room, sitting in the most uncomfortable chairs on the planet.
It’s been a few weeks since Reid messaged me, and for a while there, I was healing. I didn’t spend my nights crying. I wasn’t rereading his texts. But now the message is there, waiting. Begging for me to reply just this once. It’s my birthday, right? I can gift myself this.
Looking around the office, I scan the receptionist’s desk full of files and little bobbles as I work to not shed a tear. He remembered, and that means so much to me. Do I say something back? Should I?
I clutch my phone a little tighter. No, I shouldn’t. It would give him hope. Hell, it’d give me hope.
My brother has finally started laughing and joking with me again. It’s not the same, but we’re healing. I still have him, and I can’t have those things if I give Reid and me hope. If I start something where I shouldn’t.
Shutting off my phone, I slide it back into my purse and straighten my navy-blue pencil skirt.
I need to stay focused. I have this interview and a few others over the course of the next few days for an internship for this summer.
For the first two interviews I had, I didn’t have any luck snagging the internship.
Ivy says the sadness in my eyes is something I can’t hide and that they pick up on it right away.
No one wants a sad intern. The dark circles certainly don’t help either.
I probably look like I’m not capable of enduring the long and stressful days of an internship in a hospital setting.
I square my shoulders. But this interview will be different. I’ll put on a smile even if it’s forced. I will show them that I’d be a good fit. I have to. I have to carry on with my life. I have to try.
The office door opens, and a middle-aged man with black hair graying at the temples steps out with a smile on his face. “Ms. Moore?”
Breathing a sigh of relief for not sitting here and dwelling on my thoughts any longer, I stand and hold out my hand.
He takes it in his warm and soft palm, the handshake firm, just like my father taught me.
“I’d introduce myself properly, but my last name is hard to pronounce, so why don’t you just call me George. ”
I curtly nod, let go of his hand, and shoulder my purse. “It’s so nice to meet you, George. Thank you for seeing me.”
“Of course.” He gestures into his office, stepping aside so that I can enter. I take a look around, glancing at the books squatting on two bookcases, the standard hospital desk dividing the room, and the pictures that line the wall behind his desk.
“Please, take a seat,” he says, gesturing for the orange chairs in front of his desk while he strides across the room and settles in his office chair.
Adjusting the back of my skirt, I sit and set my purse at my feet. I fold my hands across my lap and nod to the pictures on the wall. “Is that your family?”
He shifts to look at the pictures then returns his attention to me. “It is. My wife and two daughters.”
“You have a beautiful family,” I compliment. “How old are your girls?”
“Olivia is five and Ariel is seven.”
“Sounds like a fun age.”
He nods. “At times. They’re my pride and joy though. Both of them want to become doctors.”
I smile at him though it doesn’t reach its full potential. “Just like their dad, I bet.”
He chuckles and beams with pride. “You bet ya.” He then grabs a file on the left side of his desk and opens it up. I read my name on the tab and start to fidget. “I’ve read through your file and noticed you haven’t worked since high school. Any reason?”
I clasp my hands tighter in my lap. The other two interviewers asked the same question, so I came prepared with the best answer I could possibly give. “Yes. I’ve been focused on my studies. They’re my number one priority.”
Smiling a little, he looks back at the file, shuffling papers around.
“That’s good. Studies are important. I—” His phone rings, and he holds up a finger while picking up the phone with his other hand.
“Hello?” A brief pause and a long sigh. “Olivia, remember what Daddy said about calling while I’m at work if there isn’t an emergency?
Mommy can handle this problem. No, no, you tell Ariel that she needs to share.
Okay, baby girl, Daddy will see you after work. ”
Baby girl. My throat clogs at the familiar sentimental word, and in my head, I hear it in Reid’s voice, in that loving way that pulled at my heart. Two simple words that meant more to me when I needed to hear them most.
I swallow, trying to get the lump out of my throat, but it just won’t budge, and before I know it, tears are clouding my vision.
He hangs up the phone and starts to say something, but when he glances at me, he frowns. “Are you okay, Ms. Moore?”
I lift my hand to my mouth, and a sob escapes into my palm. Waving him off with my other hand, I choke out, “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. Is it something I did?”
I wave him off again. “No, no.”
I sob again. Jesus, why can’t I get it together?
Baby girl. I really can’t function without him. When will this get easier? When will I be able to move on? It’s been four months!
He leans forward and rests his elbows on his desk. “Ms. Moore…” He clears his throat. “I’m going to be real honest with you. You seem like a nice woman, but I get the feeling you’re…”
“A mess?” I laugh without humor and wipe away tears.
“Well…yes. I’d love to have you as an intern, but I just don’t think you’re ready.”
I drop my hands back to my lap and stare at my fingers. “But I need this internship.”
He’s quiet for so long that I steal a glance at him. His expression is one of sorrow. “I understand that,” he says softly, passing me a few tissues. “But I know your head isn’t in it. I don’t think you’d be a good fit at this time.”
Dabbing my eyes, I nod a little. “I understand,” I say meekly.
He stands up from his desk, travels around it, and offers me a hand. I take it, and he helps me stand. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’d advise you to sort it out before your next interview. Okay?”
I nod again, shoulder my purse with as much dignity as I can, and turn to him in the doorway. “Thank you for giving me a chance. I appreciate it.”
His smile is sad as he ushers me out. “It was my pleasure. You take care of yourself.”
As I walk through the halls of the hospital, I dig my phone back out of my purse and power it back on, anything to distract me from the hot mess that I’ve quickly become.
An incoming text comes immediately.
Him
Good luck today.
Fresh tears fall, and I rush out of the hospital as fast as I can, the scabs on my heart exposed and raw. It’s then I know that I’ll never be able to get over him. I just have to learn to live without him. Somehow.