Thirty
“An electrical fire?”
Three hours later, Charlie and Victoria sit in a café one street over from the clinic, each with an untouched drink in front of her.
Victoria’s face is lined with exhaustion, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail.
She got the call at seven a.m. and rushed over before she’d even had her morning coffee.
“Are they sure?” Charlie continues. “It wasn’t a protestor or something?” She knows abortion clinics across the US have been the targets of bomb threats over the last several decades, and some of those threats were horrifyingly real.
Victoria nods. “Positive. The fire inspector said it was a faulty outlet in the lab.” At Charlie’s dubious expression, she shrugs. “Unfortunately, these things happen sometimes.” She smiles wryly. “Some might argue it’s the will of god.”
Charlie frowns. “But you don’t think so.”
Victoria smiles sadly. “No, I don’t.”
They both slump, defeated.
The fire department said the main damage was in the lab, which is now entirely nonfunctional.
While the examination rooms were largely spared, the smoke damage is enough that it will take weeks, if not months, to repair and remodel.
As they waited for the firefighters to finish up, she called Wes and told him what happened.
He asked if he could do anything, but she said he couldn’t.
She didn’t even know what to do. Carolyn and Diana asked if she wanted them to stop by, but she told them she’d text them later with a plan.
Whatever that entails.
“What now?” Charlie finally asks the question she’s been dreading for three hours.
Victoria heaves a sigh, her palms wrapped around her large coffee mug. “Our insurance will cover the cost of repairs, and we have an additional policy that’ll help cover lost income.” She glances at Charlie. “It includes payment for staff, so you don’t need to worry about that.”
“I’m not,” Charlie interrupts. “What about the patients?”
“They’ll have to find care somewhere else for the time being.
We won’t know how much it will cost to repair everything until the insurance company sends over their claims adjuster to determine how much we’ll receive for damages.
Then we won’t know long it will take to make sure everything is up to code.
It’s—” She massages her temple. “It’s a mess, Charlie.
Plus the board wants to have a conference call in an hour to talk about whether or not it’s worth reopening or if we should just cut our losses and—”
“No,” Charlie snaps, clenching her fingers around her own mug. “They can’t sell because of this.”
Victoria studies her. “I don’t know, Charlie.”
This can’t be how they lose the clinic. She’s worked too hard to give up now.
“We’ll raise the money we need with the expo,” she insists.
Victoria doesn’t appear convinced, and that feels like a punch in the gut.
Over the past several months, even as the threat of the clinic shutting down loomed over them, Victoria remained upbeat and encouraging, supporting Charlie and her team’s plans.
Now she looks like she doesn’t want to fight anymore, like she’s prepared to give in to the board’s demands.
“You should go home and try and focus on your classes,” Victoria says after a heavy pause. “I know you won’t, but please pretend you will so I can stop worrying that you’re going to try to solve this all on your own.”
The morning started so beautifully. Charlie couldn’t have imagined it’d end with the possibility that all her hard work over the past four months has been for nothing.
Victoria rests a hand on hers and gives her a soft smile. “I’ll call you as soon as I talk to them, Charlie. You have worked so hard. Take a breath until we learn more.”
Charlie stares into Victoria’s gray eyes filled with silent grief, her heart heavy.
She nods and squeezes her fingers. “I’ll try.”
She does not make any attempt to rest. Instead, she kneels on her bedroom floor, surrounded by a corona of expo plans: colorful brochures advertising various forms of birth control; QR codes for discounts on Vibes Come First toys; a list of flavored lube and condom samples she ordered.
A large map of Warren Park sits off to the side, a preliminary plan for where each vendor will set up and the location of the stage where the comedians will perform and the panels will take place.
A tentative schedule of events lies beside it.
Charlie combs through the list of silent auction items Carolyn sent over. Chewing on her pen cap, she contemplates how she might acquire some pricier items from larger businesses and donors, which would ensure more profits, which would make it less likely that they’d have to sell—
There’s a knock at her bedroom door. Without glancing up, she calls, “Come in.”
The door opens, followed by the most soothing voice. “Hi.”
She glances up briefly, flashing Wes a smile. “Hello. Sy let you in?”
He gingerly steps around the items on the floor and perches on the edge of her bed. “Yes. I get the sense she doesn’t like me.”
Charlie grimaces at him over her shoulder. “That’s my fault. She knows what happened freshman year, but I’ve yet to tell her about…this.”
She returns her attention to her list.
After a brief silence, Wes says, “This?” His tone is casual but curious.
“Tutoring, obviously,” she throws back.
She catches his eye roll. “Obviously.”
“But I might keep you around for a while even after that,” she adds with a small smile. “If you’re lucky.”
In response, he lowers himself to the ground, settling in one of the few open spaces, careful not to crush anything. Leaning over the map, he presses his lips to her temple, her cheek, before gently taking her chin and capturing her lips.
“When did you last eat?” he murmurs against her mouth.
She sighs, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “I haven’t.”
Cupping the nape of her neck, he draws back, narrowing his gaze. “Rogers. Are you serious? It’s three p.m.”
“I’m fine.” She sits back on her heels, out of his reach. “I have to figure this stuff—”
“You’ll be no use to them if you pass out.”
She huffs with indignation. “I would never pass out.”
He ignores her. Rising to his feet, he takes her hands, pulling her up with him.
“You can take a half hour off to eat.” He tugs on an escaped curl from her bun. “I know today has been really tough, and I’m positive you’re already thinking up a million ways to sort everything out, but it’s important you don’t crash.”
She tries to maintain her glare, but his concern for her well-being is too much. Especially when he flashes his disarming smile and wraps an arm around her waist.
“I’ll even cook you Annie’s mac and cheese,” he whispers, dragging his nose up her neck and attaching his mouth to her pulse point.
She shivers, tangling her fingers in the fabric of his black T-shirt. “God, fine.” She points a finger in his face. “Don’t think you can distract me with kisses every time you want me to do something.”
“But it works. You’re so responsive.”
His laughter chases her out of her bedroom.
Fifteen minutes and three mixing bowls later, Charlie sits cross-legged at her kitchen table, examining the noodles on her fork.
“It’s not poisoned,” Wes says.
“Given the state of my kitchen, I reserve the right to be suspicious. No one needs to use three mixing bowls to make Annie’s mac and cheese.”
“Kitchens are made for messes.” He shoves a large bite into his mouth. “And this is delicious.”
“You insulted me two months ago for having it.”
“I apologize.” He smiles sheepishly. “I just wanted an excuse to sit across from you at a restaurant and pretend we were on a date.”
Charlie snaps her mouth shut, cheeks heating. She stares into her bowl, fighting a smile. “Wesley Quinn, are you a secret romantic?”
He scoffs, offended. “No.”
Holding his gaze, she takes a bite of her macaroni and moans deliberately, catching the way his eyes darken. “Not poisoned. And I think you are.”
Before he can respond, her phone trills next to her. Victoria’s face appears on the screen.
She quickly answers. “Hello?”
“Charlie.”
Alarm shoots through her chest at the catch in Victoria’s voice. “Hey, what’s the news?”
“Um…” Victoria’s voice cracks. “I tried convincing them not to do it, but the board has made their decision.” She clears her throat, but it’s no use. Charlie hears her tears. “They’re going to accept the insurance claim and sell the clinic. I’m so sorry. There was nothing I could do.”