The Beginning of Always (28 page)

I stomped on his foot, and Nicolas gave a low yelp, almost dropping the syrup. As he fumbled with the bottle, he hissed, “What is your damage?”

I jerked my head in Maureen’s direction. Nicolas seemed momentarily confused. He slid his eyes over to Maureen, twitched his head back in shock and laughed uncomfortably.

“No, man. She’s just a work colleague.”

I raised my eyebrows suggestively. “Very pretty, though.”

“Sure, pretty. But I usually see her in scrubs.”

“Can’t hide a body like that under scrubs.”

“You can hide a bowling ball under scrubs and no one would be the wiser,” he said. He forked a piece of pancake and shoved it in his mouth with a moan.

“So. Good,” he said. His eyes practically rolled back in his head. Nicolas always enjoyed a good meal.

I took a bite of the biscuit. I slowly chewed and said, “She seems nice. Friendly and warm.”

Nicolas shoveled another giant piece of pancake into his mouth. He talked around his food. “You just like her because she said you were pretty. But I carry us in the looks department.”

“Want me to break your toes with my heel?”

Nicolas quickly swung his legs out from under the bar so he was sitting sideways. “Leave them alone, they’ve never done anything to offend you.”

I grabbed a pancake from Nicolas’s stack and put it on my plate. “Is she single? You should start dating, seriously—you’re not getting any younger.”

More pancake crammed in his mouth, more talking with a full bite. “Right back at you.”

“It’s hard to meet people once you’re out of school, trust me on that.”

“I’m fine. You don’t know my tricks with the ladies.” Nicolas preened in an exaggerated movement.

“Lame.” I watched him cram food into his mouth for a second, then added, “Are you dating someone?”

Nicolas scoffed at me, annoyed. “Shame. I don’t kiss and tell.”

I thrusted a piece of pancake-speared fork in his direction. “Spill it.”

“Drop it. There’s no one and there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Geez, no fun.”

We ate the rest of the meal in relative peace. The food was delicious and Nicolas was savoring every bite, so I didn’t begrudge him the experience. After he had polished off the pancakes, the french toast, most of the eggs, his biscuit (he wanted mine but I beat him off), all of the potatoes, some of my granola and yogurt and three cups of orange juice, he finally sat back, sated.

“Man, that was good,” he said with a sigh.

I eyed the empty plates. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or horrified.”

“This growing boy has got to eat.”

“No kidding.”

Nicolas laughed. I was still working on my pancakes and biscuit, so Nicolas sat next to me quietly as I slowly made my way through.

After a couple minutes, he spoke up.

“You know … there is … someone.” Nicolas was hesitant to continue. “There’s a girl,” he said. “At the university.”

I lowered my fork while raising my eyebrows. “Whoa. Yes, yes, continue.” I perched my chin on top of a fist and grinned.

Nicolas never told me about his girlfriends. This was some primetime viewing.

“Don’t be so shocked, and stop getting excited. It’s creepy.”

I waved my hand impatiently at him to move him along.

“There’s a girl, but it’s impossible. So it’s pretty much dead on arrival.”

“What’s wrong? So just ask her out.”

Nicolas began playing with the pools of syrup on his empty plate, muttering his answer. “I can’t. She’s a patient—I mean, she comes to the hospital for service. There are a thousand reasons why it’s wrong. A thousand and one. It’s sick and unprofessional that I’m even thinking about it. Also, she’s young. Like cradle-robbing young.”

My eyebrows shot up my forehead and disappeared into my bangs. “How young?”

Nicolas mumbled the answer to his plate, averting my gaze, his fork skittering even faster along the ceramic.

“Hey!” I reached across the table and snapped my fingers in front of Nicolas’s face. His head jerked up to look at me with wild eyes. “Nicolas! How old is she?”

Nicolas’s eyes darted back and forth as he considered my question.

“Nicolas Enzo Reynolds. Age!”

He flinched at my tone, but supplied the answer. “Nineteen.”

My shoulders sagged slightly with relief. “Nineteen? That’s not so bad. At least it’s legal.”

Nicolas gaped like I’d just punched him in the stomach. “At least it’s legal? At least it’s legal? That’s all you can say? At least it’s legal?” His hands waggled in the air when he became lost for words. “Legal?” he choked out, incredulous.

“Stop being so dramatic. She’s, what, a freshman?”

“You know I’m twenty-five, nearly twenty-six, right?”

“Yeah, I do. Six years is nothing.”

“Six years is everything!”

“No, being her doctor is everything.”

Nicolas slumped back against the chair, defeated. “Yeah,” he said with a small slouched nod.

“I mean … what is it? Is she just really pretty or something? There are plenty of pretty women out there.” See exhibit Maureen.

“It’s … I can’t say, Flo. This girl I’m talking about, she is pretty. Gorgeous. Beautiful. And all the descriptive adjectives in between. But it’s not just that—I’m not sure.” He paused to think for a moment. “It’s her eyes. She has these eyes—they’re huge and sad, and when she’s talking to me, they fill with all these emotions I can’t pin down.”

Nicolas threw his fork down with a loud clatter. “This is disgusting, I can’t do crap like that. I’m not even into that whole fixing thing. I do it enough at work. All I ever wanted was something normal and steady for my personal life.”

“You’ve never felt like this with another patient?”

“Hell no, not even close. It’s all about the detachment. I don’t even call them by their first names. Sessions are fast, in and out.”

I took a slow bite of my food and chewed before asking, “Then, how did you let your guard down like that?”

Nicolas shook his head. “I mean, I didn’t know she was a patient. I ran into her on campus at the beginning of the school year.”

“Yeah? How?”

“She was riding her bike along the path and I was riding to work too, and we collided. I knocked her off. I literally ran into her.”

I scrunched up my nose. “Very smooth.”

“Ha-ha,” Nicolas said dryly. “Anyway, she scraped her knee, so I patched her up. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I went down the same bike path every day hoping I’d spot her again. Then two weeks later, boom, she showed up at the hospital and needed to see someone in my department.”

I was silent as I considered Nicolas’s conundrum. His fingers were now starting to fret at a discarded paper straw wrapper.

“Do you have a picture of this mystery girl? I want to see what she looks like.”

“That’s creepy, Flo, why would I have a picture?” Nicolas was growing exasperated. “When could I take it, anyway?”

I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe you hid in the bushes one day before she got home. Sprung on her, snapped a picture and ran off.” I chuckled to myself. “Don’t tell me you haven’t stalked her online. Come on, show me a picture.”

Nicolas threw me a withering glare. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Laughing at me.”

I grinned and elevated myself onto my toes to pet Nicolas on the head. He pushed my arm away with an annoyed look. I caught myself.

Nicolas was actually irritated and I grew serious. This wasn’t typical.

“Hey, I’m just teasing you, Nic. No need to get upset.”

Nicolas’s face relaxed a touch but his voice remained strained. “I’m not upset, but this isn’t funny, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t have a laugh at my expense.”

My arm hovered in the air between us for a second. Nicolas was deeply distressed, on a level I might never have seen before.

I leaned back slowly and said, “No, I suppose these things never are.” I lowered myself back down in my seat.

“Sorry. It’s just … it’s been bothering me. I’ve been on edge for a while.”

“How come?”

“I’m not supposed to think these things about her, about any patient. And I never had. It’s freaking me out, to be honest.”

“So there’s no chance you can date her?”

“Not while I’m her doctor … I can’t do that kind of shit ever. I’ll get kicked out of my residency if word gets out, if not worse. I don’t even want to think about all the work and money it took to get here. I never thought I’d let a girl derail me from what I’ve been working so long for. It’s crazy. It’s like my logic knows it’s wrong but everything else is telling me to—”

“Screw logic.”

“Yeah. Screw logic.”

I nodded.

Nicolas balled up the straw wrapper and flicked it up to land on an empty plate. “Do you feel this way with Alistair?”

“You mean, right now? No. Definitely not.”

Nicolas didn’t believe me. “Are you lying?”

“I can’t be sure. Maybe. It’s complicated. Sometimes I want to shit on logic and pretend it doesn’t exist, but most of the time I can remind myself why that’s such a bad idea.”

Nicolas grunted in a dissatisfied manner. “Everything is complicated.”

“Welcome to the real world, buddy.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“The point I’m trying to make, Nic, is that sometimes it doesn’t matter what you feel for someone. I’m not saying you love this girl, but you must feel something for this to bother you so much. But love doesn’t always work out. Not everyone gets the happily ever after, not everyone is destined to be together. Sometimes the universe just doesn’t work on our favor.”

Nicolas leaned back in his chair with a loud groan. “That’s really depressing, Flo.”

“Yeah, well, I’m amazing company right now.”

“Is that how you feel about Alistair?”

I grappled with my answer. “I feel that … I need to do my job and forget the rest. That’s what’s important. And perhaps that’s what you need to do as well. We’re both stuck in situations where it’s just not right, logistically or otherwise.”

Nicolas hung his head. “So you think I should forget it?”

“As your big sister, hell yes, forget it. I don’t even want to go into the medical ethics side of things, just think about what you’re jeopardizing—just like you said, all you’ve worked for, all the money and time you spent to get this far. But beyond that, you should do what you think is right. If your gut is telling you no, you should listen to it.”

“And your gut is telling you no about Alistair.”

I stabbed at my forgotten breakfast. “And I’m listening to that gut. Nothing good will come out of being with Alistair, so it’s completely insignificant how I feel about him. We can’t just push something like that. Time will figure out for you if it’s right.”

“Like you and Alistair.”

“We’ve never been right for each other. It’s a freak coincidence I ended up with his story.”

Nicolas arched an eyebrow. “You can’t seriously believe that.”

“That’s the truth I’m sticking to,” I said with finality. If I said it enough, I’d start to believe it. And if I believed it, why couldn’t it be true?

Chapter 15

M
onday morning, there was a car waiting for me outside my apartment building.

And to my utter relief, the driver’s seat didn’t hold Alistair Blair.

It held Train.

“Ms. Reynolds!” a voice boomed out across the sidewalk, loud enough to make me drop my purse. I caught it in midair with my foot, right before it struck the pavement.

“Ah, geez, sorry,” Train said as he lumbered over to me, reaching over to grab my bag.

I shrugged him off with a small laugh. “I haven’t lived in the city for a long time, but even I know you don’t yell people’s names like that on the street.”

Train smashed his forehead with a gigantic palm, striking it with enough force to knock down a wall. “I’m too loud, my wife always tells me that.”

“It’s okay.” I adjusted my purse over my shoulder and straightened up. “You’re here to pick me up?”

“Roger that,” Train said with a mock salute. He cocked a thumb towards a new-model silver Audi SUV parked in the loading zone.

“Nice car,” I said with a grin.

“Company car,” Train explained over his shoulder as he ambled over to the rear passenger-side door and opened it.

I smiled and walked towards the proffered chariot. “You’re not a chauffeur, Train, you don’t need to open the door for me.” I threw my bags into the backseat.

Train grunted. “Princesses get doors opened for them.”

“Is that what I am, a princess?” I said sarcastically as I stooped down and lowered my head to duck into the car.

Behind me, Train said, “They all call Boss the prince, so yeah, you his princess.”

I didn’t respond; I pretended not to hear. I denied to myself the way my heart flipped at those words and I scurried quickly onto the smooth leather. Train slammed the door, rounded the car, and settled into the front seat. As he pulled into the moving traffic, I tried to change the subject. I said, “You didn’t have to pick me up. I’ve been taking the subway and it’s been perfectly fine.”

Train grunted. “Boss doesn’t want you taking the subway anymore.”

I scoffed in response. “Tell ‘Boss’ that I’m a big girl and I can take the subway just fine.”