CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Nick
I wake up on the Monday morning following the Fall Festival of Fun with a pit in my stomach. Although my talk with Patricia did help me identify my triggers and calm those fears a bit, the idea of seeing Marcy today still made me worry.
In such a brief meeting, my parents were able to tear down my career, my lack of committed relationship, and remind me that they didn’t have much interest in simply spending time with me.
Remind me that I wasn’t good enough for them, and Marcy got a front row seat.
The way they disrespected her in the interaction has also been eating away at me, making me feel like I failed her by not standing up for her.
I wish I had been capable of using some of my anger in that moment instead of shutting down out of straight fear.
I haven’t heard from Marcy since Saturday afternoon, but I want to remedy that today.
I want to talk to her in person and explain myself.
I had started to open up with her more at the bar, and as safe as that felt, that wasn’t how I wanted her to remember that day.
I wanted to charm her, to show her that I was a solid guy that she could trust. Make her laugh a few times, treat her to some fried dough and anything else she had her eye on.
Things were going so well too. I don’t remember a better feeling than her hand in mine.
It was a risk to take it in the first place, but I wanted to make it clear to her that she can think of me as more than a friend.
I have never gone slow with a woman, but holding her hand felt like a good way to start.
By the end of our time together, she was the one reaching for me, and it made my heart race each time.
Then I had to ruin it.
Instead of showing her the best version of myself, she saw the weak son.
The guy that I have tried to long since leave behind.
She didn’t back away when she recognized my discomfort.
If anything, her response just highlighted that huge heart of hers, making me even more crazy about her.
Her patients are lucky if they get even a fraction of the compassion she showed me.
I rehash our day together for what feels like the millionth time as I utilize the small hotel gym to get in a quick run and some weight training.
The usual high I get after my workout is lacking, the disappointment still overriding my nervous system.
I shower, get dressed, grab a yogurt and a protein bar out of the refrigerator in my room and head toward my truck.
I’m so distracted that I don’t even remember the drive to the hospital, or the walk to my desk.
I sit down and stare at my computer screen for a solid five minutes before even turning it on.
Today might be a long day.
My screen lights up as I settle my thoughts and push all the ones involving Marcy to the back of my brain. It’s no use however, because just as I start to scan my emails, she appears in my doorway.
“Nick?” She is so gorgeous. Her dark curls are everywhere, and she is dressed in her self-imposed work uniform of leggings and an oversized sweater.
This one has a neckline that exposes her collar bones and that’s enough to get my blood buzzing on its own.
There is a slight pink in her cheeks, and she seems a bit apprehensive.
She spins her rings around her fingers when she is nervous, and right now they are really whirling.
“Marcy, come in. Please, have a seat.” I’m going for inviting but I’m afraid I’m coming off a little desperate.
“Thanks,” She smiles. “I won’t take a lot of your time, I just wanted to check-in after Saturday. Things ended a little…well, just, how are you?”
“Honestly? I am still a little embarrassed with how the day ended. I wanted to show you a good time, and I let that run-in with my parents derail things. I enjoy spending time with you, and I shouldn’t have shut down like that.”
“It’s okay, I meant what I said about not having to be sunshine all the time.
I told you a little about my own anxiety, so I know what it’s like.
You can’t always control it. I am here to talk to in case you need someone to ya know…
talk.” She seems so earnest, and I am mortified, even if I know that isn’t a fair response.
“Like one of your patients?” I’m hating that that just came out of my mouth, but it’s what I keep thinking.
“No, not like a patient.” She gives me an eye roll; her tone is indignant. “Like a friend would offer a friend. Don’t you have friends?” She stares at me incredulously. Now I hate how many times she has said ‘friend.’
“Maybe a couple, it is difficult with the constant moving to keep connections.” I give her a smile, trying to be more playful than embarrassed.
“I can see that.” She pauses thoughtfully. Biting her bottom lip and completely distracting me. Her mouth is so pouty and perfect. “May I ask you a question? Fair warning, it’s about something that isn’t really my business and might be inappropriate.”
“Please, those are my favorite kind.” Now I’m intrigued. She breathes deeply before she continues.
“I’ve heard some things. That you date around a lot, a fling kind of guy. And then your mom kind of alluded something to that effect.” She is looking everywhere around the room except for right at me, and I can’t help but get a little kick out of it.
“Yes, so what is the question? You can ask me anything.” Did the heat turn on in this office? Marcy and I have had personal conversations, and flirted a bit, but we haven’t discussed our romantic lives at all. The shift in topic is impacting the energy in the room, and I am buzzing.
“Well, what about me?” She asks so simply.
“What do you mean?” My heart is pounding, I am shocked the buttons on my shirt aren’t popping off from the pressure.
“Your intentions. What are your intentions with me?” Her frankness catches me off guard.
Her expression is inquiring, somewhat timid in contrast to the direct nature of her question.
It makes me smile, and I have to refrain from saying the incredibly filthy intentions coming to mind.
Also guessing that asking her to immediately be mine forever would be frowned upon at this point.
Again, I am still learning this balance.
“Well Marcy, what do you think my intentions are?” A shy smile comes to her mouth.
“I think you held my hand like you wanted to be more than friends, and I think you flirt with me sometimes like you want to be more than friends. I think you stayed up all night fixing my car, and someone with platonic intentions doesn’t do things like that.
” I am very much enjoying where this is going, I can feel my pulse racing, those damn butterflies flapping.
“You would be correct.” Now we are both blushing, and my blazer is stifling. It’s like we are in middle school and dancing around asking if we ‘like’ each other.
“Okay. Then I think…” and as I am on the edge of my seat, leaning over my desk, taking in the glorious scent of her, about to reach for her hand, there is knock at the door.
Without hesitation, the once cracked door is swung open and in walks a familiar face with timing seemingly orchestrated by the devil himself. Isabel Rollins, a two-night encounter from a job ten months ago near Fargo, North Dakota.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. In the bad way.
“Nick Anderson!” She says in a sing-song voice.
Isabel is a petite, blond, travel nurse, with a thin build and bubbly blue eyes.
She walks into my office like she owns the place, like she and I know each other beyond a couple nights of fucking to stave off the boredom of Fargo in January.
I haven’t spoken to her since, so why she is here is beyond me.
She is naturally outgoing and flirtatious, and everything about the way she is interacting with this room is sending all the wrong messages.
I am in panic mode.
“Oh my god, they told me you were here! Heard it through the nursing grapevine, you know how that goes. Great news, I’ll be in town for the next couple of weeks.
” She twirls a stray hair around her finger and is staring me down with an obvious recollection of the last time we were together. My mouth has gone dry.
“Yeah, Hi Isabel, I’m in the middle of something…” I’ll be honest, I am bit relieved that I remember her name because it could have been a situation where that was not the case, making me look like an even bigger asshole than I currently do.
“Oh my gosh, Nick, I am so rude.” She giggles like a mad woman and turns to Marcy, “So sorry to interrupt! I am Isabel, just an old friend of Nick’s.
I’ll come back later to catch-up!” She brightly announces.
I can’t think of any reason we would need to catch-up, and blood is now pulsing in my brain.
It might be coming out my ears, but I’m too scared to check.
Marcy immediately retreats. She goes from calm back to fidgeting, the blush in her cheeks now seemingly there for an entirely different reason.
I watch her face fall, her body tense, and she pushes back in her chair, not looking at me.
“You know what, I was just leaving, so no need to rush out of here at all. Sounds like you guys need to catch-up.”
No. No. No.
“No, Marcy please stay.” I’m considering falling to my literal knees.
“Nick, it is really Okay, I got the answer I needed to my question after all.” She stands and turns to Isabel, “look forward to working with you Isabel, I’m Marcy. I am the social worker in the hospital, so I am sure I will be seeing you around.” Her tone is stoic.
“How did you know I was working here? Are you psychic or something?” Isabel giggles. I am mortified.
“It was the scrubs and the temporary ID badge that gave it away actually. I have also been sitting here the whole time.” Marcy gives me a quick and judgmental glance, which is feeling more than fair right now.
“Oh well, duh, of course!” Isabel sweetly responds, oblivious to the brief exchange between Marcy and me. “So nice to meet you, Marcy! Can’t wait to work with you!”
Marcy walks out the door without glancing back.