Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
MELISSA
I teach the next class in a blur, and I’m pretty sure the lesson is neither clear nor organized.
I’m still reeling from the news that there’s a video of me on Instagram, ranting about the reasons to learn math.
Even more surprising is the response to it; Carole said it was inspiring, and she doesn’t strike me as a woman who’s easily impressed.
After I bring Liam home from preschool and make him a grilled cheese sandwich, I start a text to Luke. There’s so much to tell him: the video, and Carole Chan’s offer of a long-term job. The idea of Teachers’ College. It’s too much for a text message, but maybe he’ll come over tonight and . . .
And then I remember the situation with Ethan, and the expression on Luke’s face as he left my house last night. He’s facing the dilemma of whether to report his friend’s alcohol problem. And that same friend has threatened to report him to the Medical Board for dating me.
It’s not the time to distract him with the story of the video, or even the idea of Teachers’ College.
I delete my text about the video and quickly type another one.
Me: Thinking of you. I hope work is better today.
His reply doesn’t come until hours later, when I’m getting ready for bed.
Luke: Thanks.
I try not to read too much into the single word answer. I’m sure he was busy at work today, and since it’s Thursday, he had hockey this evening. And men don’t text like women do; they like to get to the point.
Or maybe he’s trying to distance himself from me. If he gets reported to the Medical Board, a shorter relationship will look better than a long one.
On Friday afternoon, my mom texts to ask if she can drop by, and my heart sinks.
She’ll undoubtedly ask me about Luke, and he’s the last subject on earth I want to discuss.
But the fact that she texted first is encouraging; in the past she would have simply shown up.
And at least it will be a time-limited visit, since I’m driving the kids to Toronto when Claire finishes school.
Mom surprises me by showing up with a dozen white chocolate macadamia nut cookies from a new bakery downtown.
“I wanted to apologize for Saturday,” she says as she hands me the box. “I know I overstepped, and . . .”
“That’s okay,” I say quickly, aware that Liam can hear us. “These look delicious, would you like one?”
Mom surprises me again by accepting a whole cookie, and we move to the kitchen to eat them. I give Liam a whole cookie too, even though I usually try to limit his afternoon sugar intake, and take one for myself. Life’s too short to pass up a fresh white chocolate macadamia nut cookie.
After Liam finishes his cookie, he wanders into the living room to play with his train set, leaving Mom and me alone in the kitchen.
“Another cookie?” I offer wickedly.
“No, thank you,” she says quickly, but I can see the temptation in her eyes, and it makes her more human somehow.
“How’s your job going?” she asks.
“Pretty well, I think,” I say slowly, debating how much to tell her. “The principal’s interested in keeping me on, and she suggested I look into Teachers’ College. Apparently some schools offer online programs, and I might be able do it part time.”
I expect Mom to ask how I’ll parent my kids while I’m going to school, but she doesn’t. “You must be a good teacher if the principal’s so keen to keep you,” she says instead. “You should ask for a raise.”
I laugh, and find myself telling Mom about my struggles with Vanessa Abernathy. I even pull out my phone and show her the video (I reinstalled the Instagram app) and when it ends, she looks at me with a strange expression. She’s surprised, and I think she’s also impressed.
“You should definitely ask for a raise, Melissa,” Mom tells me.
And she makes it through the entire visit without asking a single question about Luke.
Luke’s never far from my thoughts, though. As I drive the kids to Toronto, I wonder if Ethan’s still begging him to keep quiet, and if he’s having a busy afternoon on call. If he regrets getting involved with me, now that Ethan’s threatening to report him to the Medical Board.
Back in my empty house, the temptation to text Luke is overwhelming, but I resolve not to do it. He knows how to reach me, and I’ve already told him I have no other plans this weekend; he can call me if he gets a break.
If he wants to.
I consider doing an exercise video, but decide I’m past the stage where exercise will make me feel better.
Instead, I watch a teen romantic comedy about a nerdy girl who saves the football team captain from drowning in a backyard pool.
To show his gratitude, he asks her to the prom, and she gets a makeover that turns her into a beauty queen.
Needless to say, they fall madly in love and live happily ever after.
It’s a completely ridiculous movie, but it kills almost two hours. When it ends, I click on Netflix’s next recommendation, another teen rom com with a similar storyline. This one doesn’t hold my attention, though, and at ten P.M., I turn off the TV and go to bed.
Before I set my phone on my bedside table, I check it one last time. Still no messages from Luke.
When my phone finally rings, it pulls me out of a deep sleep, and at first I wonder if it’s part of a dream. It takes me a minute to wake up, and by the time I find my phone, the call’s gone to voicemail.
It’s two thirty-seven A.M., and the missed call’s from Luke. I swipe the screen to call him back.
“I’m at your door,” he says, and the urgency in his voice brings me fully awake. “Can I come in, Milly?”
“Yeah. Yeah, just a minute.”
I pad downstairs, flicking on lights as I go, and unlock the front door.
The next thing I know, Luke’s arms are around me in a crushing hug.
It feels like he’s trying to pull me into himself, and I never want it to end.
I can feel his chest move as he breathes, deep shuddering breaths like an athlete would take at the end of a race.
Or like a man who’s found something precious after fearing it had been lost.
He holds me for a moment without speaking, and I soak up the feel of him. The day’s worth of stubble on his chin that feels rough and wonderful against my cheek. The familiar scent of his cologne.
“Milly,” he finally says, loosening his hold a little so he can look at me. His hair’s a mess, and his hazel eyes are bruised with fatigue. He looks utterly wrecked and utterly gorgeous.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, pulling me close again. “I had to see you.”
“It’s okay,” I murmur into his chest.
He holds me for another moment before he explains.
“I just operated on a young woman who’d been in a car crash,” he tells me. “She was only thirty-one, Melissa. She was in rough shape when they brought her in, and the paramedics had pretty much prepared her husband for the worst.”
He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Anyway, she was too unstable for the CT scanner, so we took her straight to the OR. Turned out all the bleeding was from the spleen, and once I took that out, she stabilized pretty fast. She’s in the ICU, but she should do well.”
“God, Luke,” I murmur into his chest. I can only imagine how stressful it must be, knowing someone’s life depends on your skill. And then the high afterward, of knowing you fought death and won.
“Yeah. But then I went to talk to her husband, and the look on his face . . . the surgery went faster than expected, so he thought . . . he thought I was coming to tell him she didn’t make it. That I couldn’t save her. And Melissa . . .”
He pauses, and I feel a shiver run through his body.
“It’s okay, Luke,” I say gently. “She’s going to be fine. You just said so.” Between his own call shifts and covering for Ethan, he’s been working far too hard this week, and it’s no surprise it’s catching up to him. He’s almost beyond himself. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I realize the front door’s still standing open, so I push it closed and turn the lock. As soon as that’s done, Luke pulls me back into his arms. As though he doesn’t want to let me go, even for the time it’ll take to climb the stairs to my bedroom.
“You saved her, Luke,” I murmur. “Take off your jacket and let’s go to bed.”
Luke shucks off his jacket and toes off his shoes, and we walk upstairs together. He doesn’t bother to take off his clothes, just slips under the covers next to me and tucks my body in next to his. We’re lying on our sides, my back pressed tightly against his front.
Within minutes, Luke’s breathing slows, and I sense he’s almost asleep. He mumbles something inarticulate, and his leg hitches over my hip. He’s got me trapped beneath his arm and leg, and there’s no way I could move without waking him up.
But I never want to move again. It’s a delicious feeling, being surrounded by Luke Carlton.
And as I lie in his arms, listening to the peaceful sound of his breathing, I curse fate.
Because I’m afraid I’m going to have to give him up.