Chapter 15 #2
We drive to Mt. Sinai, past the hospital complex, and past the front of an outpatient rehab center. Olivia catches her breath as I pull into its parking garage. She rounds on me.
“What are we doing here?”
“You’ll see,” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face.
In the lobby of the building, I approach the receptionist’s desk. Olivia lingers behind me uncertainly, looking around in awe at the atrium, which features arched skylights and plenty of sculptures—the sort of fixtures that decorate the most expensive medical facilities.
“I’m here for a meeting with Dr. Greene,” I tell the receptionist, an older woman with pencil-thin curls. “My name is Reed Eastwood.”
Her eyes widen at that for an instant—clearly, she recognizes my name. But she doesn’t make a fuss, which I appreciate. Instead, she just taps at her keyboard for a few seconds, then nods.
“You’re in his calendar. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
As she picks up the phone, Olivia tugs on my sleeve. “Who’s Dr. Greene? What are we doing here?”
I gesture around at the lobby. “This place is the best center in Manhattan for neurodegenerative diseases,” I say. “I went ahead and scheduled a consultation with Dr. Greene, the director. He’s going to give us a tour of the facility and show us some treatment plans.”
Olivia gapes up at me. “Wait—what?”
“For your mom,” I say, as if it wasn’t obvious.
“Oh, my god—Reed! You didn’t have to—”
Olivia is interrupted by the arrival of Dr. Greene, a short, smiling man in his early fifties. He approaches the two of us, a hand extended, and gives us each a firm handshake.
“Welcome, welcome,” he says. “You must be Mr. Eastwood—and Ms. Quinn. Let me show you around.”
The two of us follow him away from the lobby, down a side corridor.
“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Greene,” Olivia says. She seems to be recovering from her surprise.
“It’s nice to meet you, as well,” he says graciously. “Mr. Eastwood told me about your situation over the phone. Our clinic specializes in the treatment of individuals just like your mother. Multiple sclerosis is one of the most common conditions we see in our patients.”
Dr. Greene takes us around the facility, pointing out the in-patient hospital rooms, which are luxury suites compared to the ones at a regular hospital. He shows us the clinic’s physical therapy center, which includes a heated, in-ground pool.
“Our clinic is a licensed provider of mesenchymal stem cell therapy,” Dr. Greene tells us.
“It’s a cutting-edge new treatment for MS that has been proven to help reduce disability in patients—without the need for invasive procedures.
Our approach is holistic. We try to approach rehab from every possible angle. ”
Olivia is wide-eyed, taking everything in as we move through the clinic. Eventually, Dr. Greene leads us to his office and sits us down in the comfortable chairs in front of his desk.
“So—first things first,” he says, turning to Olivia. “Do you have any questions for me?”
Olivia thinks for a moment, then says, “Reed told me he explained the situation over the phone. If that’s the case, then you know that we can’t—that my family can’t—”
I hold out a hand to stop her in her tracks. She meets my gaze, and I shake my head.
“Reed, I—”
“You don’t have to worry about the cost,” I tell her quietly. Turning back to Dr. Greene, I add, “Money is no object here. Spare no expense.”
Dr. Greene gives me a nod. “Okay. Would you like to hear our proposed treatment plan?”
Olivia still seems taken aback, but she’s clearly so pleased and excited about the prospect of helping her mom that she’s able to overcome her shock. “Yes, please,” she says eagerly.
The clinic director gives us the rundown. For the most part, treatment would take place at-home, though Mrs. Quinn would have to come in for a few procedures, especially in the beginning. She would be given a new physician and a home-care nurse to try and give her some more independence.
As Dr. Greene explains the treatment plan to Olivia, she’s focused, leaning forward and listening with rapt attention. She starts to write things down, pulling a little pad of sticky notes out of her pocket and snagging a pen from Dr. Greene’s desk.
She has a few dozen questions, which Dr. Greene is more than happy to answer, and she seems to have an encyclopedic knowledge of her mother’s medical history; she interjects every few minutes to fill Dr. Greene in on the details of Maura’s condition.
Her family matters so much to her, and I can see why when we visited the Quinns for dinner: they clearly love her. The closeness between all of them isn’t a family dynamic I’m really familiar with, but I find myself drawn to it.
At the end of the meeting, Olivia is practically vibrating with excitement. She stands up to shake Dr. Greene’s hand vigorously, beaming.
“Thank you so much,” she says.
He smiles. “Don’t thank me—thank this young man here.” Dr. Greene gestures to me. “I’m looking forward to meeting your mother. I’m sure we’re going to see some great results.”
As we leave the office, there’s a spring in Olivia’s step. She holds my hand as we walk back to the car.
Before I can climb in the driver’s seat, Olivia grabs me by the wrist. “Wait,” she says. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you in there.”
I grin, amused. “Are you kidding? You must have said ‘thank you’ like a dozen times.”
Olivia’s cheeks flush, and she says, “I meant—I wanted to really thank you. Not just in passing.”
“What do you—” Before I can finish my sentence, Olivia takes me by surprise. She leans in and hugs me, her face pressed against my chest.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Thank you so, so much.”
I wrap my arms around her waist, letting my hands rest at the small of her back. After a moment, she draws back a little, looking up to meet my gaze.
Something builds between us—heat, and passion, strong enough to leave me breathless. With her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright—I can’t resist her. Not after last night. Not after the past few weeks.
Some part of my mind is doing its best to hold me back, but it’s a futile effort. I’m going to break a rule.
Just before I can kiss her, she surges up to meet my lips.
There, I think with a fierce satisfaction. Not my fault, after all.
Our kiss builds. It begins slow and deep, but quickly, the heat between us grows, until it’s scorching. Her hands wander up my back, exploring beneath my shirt. My tongue snakes between her teeth, seeking every inch of her.
All of the tension that has sizzled between us since we first hooked up—it explodes all over again. It’s difficult to even catch my breath. I press Olivia up against the side of the car, practically lifting her off the ground. Her touch is rough and desperate.
We’ve been pent up for too long.
The thought passes through my mind again, like a final warning siren—this is a mistake. You’re making a mistake.
With a huge amount of effort, I break away from her. Gently but firmly, I put her back down and step back. Both of us breathe heavily for a few seconds before I regain the ability to speak.
“We were hurtling toward a breach of contract there,” I say lightly, between breaths.
She nods, shaking her head—getting herself back together. Her gaze is slightly unfocused, like she’s feeling the same daze that I am. She leans against the car for a second, then looks up at me.
“I’m—I’m good. It’s all good.”
“Glad to hear it,” I say. I offer her a smile—as natural and easy as I can make it. I’ll make the effort to stop things from being awkward between us, even if that ship has sailed.
To my relief, Olivia smiles back. She steps around the front of the car and climbs into the passenger seat.
As we drive home, we talk about the clinic—exclusively about the clinic, as if that moment in the parking garage never happened.
For now, it’s probably best to pretend that it didn’t happen.
We’ll all laugh about it sometime in the future, I tell myself.
One day, when this is all over, and everything’s normal again…
At the same time, though, part of me is cursing that rational voice in my brain, the one that stopped our kiss. How could I let that moment slip by? How could I stop—just when we were finally getting somewhere?
I do my best to ignore it. I want to do right by Olivia, especially after fucking over the proposal.
And that means following the rules. Sticking to the contract. Doing exactly what we agreed upon, and no more.
The more closely we toe the line, the less likely she is to get hurt—and that’s the most important factor.