Friends Without Benefits (Knitting in the City) (36 page)

We stared at each other in the hall for a full half
-minute then abruptly he pulled me into a hug. “You’re an idiot,” he whispered in my ear, his Townie accent suddenly thick and unmistakable.

I laughed. “Thanks.”

Dan pulled away and physically set me inside the penthouse, much like he’d physically set me inside the doctors’ lounge earlier. “For God’s sake, please talk to someone. If you wait too long you’ll be wrong in the head.”

“I’m already wrong in the head.”

“Yeah, but you’re funny wrong in the head. I don’t want you to be basket-case wrong in the head.”

My mouth hooked to the side. “Because you like me?”

“No. Because basket cases are the worst people to guard. I don’t need that shit.”

I laughed lightly as he reached forward for the door knob, essentially pushing me into the apartment, and closed the door.

I stood in the entranceway for several long minutes, dazed, then tiptoed to Nico’s bedroom, careful not to wake up Rose or Angelica. The first thing I did was strip off my clothes and take the longest shower in the history of forever. The second thing I did was brush my teeth. The third thing I did was lay in Nico’s bed and surround myself with his pillows.

And, predictably,
I couldn’t sleep.

~*~

I didn’t mention the episode with the stalker to Rose during Angelica’s infusion that morning. But I did ask her the favor of borrowing her cell phone. She happily agreed, obviously feeling guilt-free about ignoring Nico’s text request from Sunday.

I called
Nico’s cell, and it went straight to voicemail, which I expected. When the beep sounded I took a deep breath and said, “Nico, it’s me. I’m using your mom’s cell phone because mine was . . . broken last night. I’m not sure if you already heard from Dan or Quinn about what happened, but I wanted to tell you, talk to you about it so, if you could call me back that would be great. I’m on your mom’s phone . . . bye.” I glanced at the phone, I didn’t hang up. After a short moment I brought it back to my ear. “I love you.”

Then, I hung up. I tossed the phone to the bed and sat on the edge, my elbows on my knees, my face in my hands. I breathed out then in, strangely aware of the feeling, the sensation of breathing.

While I listened to myself breathe, my brain and heart abruptly reached an accord: I was going to fight for Nico and that was that. I was going to push, play games, and fight dirty. And if he
ultimately left me, if he didn’t want me in the end, I would be devastated and heartbroken and want to drink scotch alone while listening to Radiohead. But I would live.

And, after just living for a bit, I would start eating alphabet soup.

Even if Nico and I didn’t end up together I would always be grateful to him for helping me realize love was a choice that I was capable of making just as much as it was a risk I was capable of taking. I was older and wiser and wouldn’t enter into it lightly because I knew now how precious it was.

I was yanked out of my
odd meditation by a buzzing on the bed next to me. Rose’s cell was ringing. I grabbed for it, swiped my thumb across the screen, brought it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God, Elizabeth!”

My heart jumped, my eyes immediately stung
from tears of happy relief. “Nico.” His name was a prayer of thanksgiving. I fell backward on the bed, surrounded again by his pillows, the smell of cologne; all of it now paired with this voice.

He cursed for a while. He ranted for a while after that about Quinn and incompetence and guard dogs and
semiautomatic weapons. I just let the sound of his voice wash over me, a miraculous soothing balm for the largest wound—missing him.

After a bit he calmed, quieted. I heard him sigh on the other end.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done if . . .”
He sighed again, his voice thick with emotion.
“I can’t even say it.”

I nodded. “I know. I know how you feel. Nico, I can’t stand this. I can’t stand being away from you, you not taking my calls. Can we just forget about the last few days? Please? Can we forget about me losing my temper on Friday and the stupid, awful things I said?”

My entreaty was met with silence. I worried my lip. Waited.

“Nico?”

I glanced at the phone screen to make sure the call hadn’t been dropped. Sure enough, the call was still live.

“Nico? Are you there?”

“I’m here.”

My
heart plummeted, crashed to the earth with each protracted second of silence. I closed my eyes because I knew what his silence meant.

“I can’t believe it. I can’t
 . . . I can’t believe you’re still going to make me wait, after what happened. You’re going to make me wait until you come back next week, aren’t you?”

“
Elizabeth, listen to me. You just went through a terrible trauma, because of me. Because of who I am, what I do—”

“No! I just went through a terrible trauma because a crazy person decided to hold me at gun point. You aren’t responsible for putting that weapon in her hand.”

“There’s something I haven’t told you. She and I, we, I dated her.”

“I know. She told me when she
had me trapped. If she hadn’t been holding a gun I might have scratched her eyes out.”

He ignored my attempt at brevity.
“It was just once, just one time. She wouldn’t leave me alone after that.”

“Is that why you wanted to be with me? Girl A? Because girl C might be cray-cray? Are you settling for me because you know I don’t—”

“No! I want to be with you because I—I can’t. . .”
He man-sighed, I heard a loud whack then crash as though he’d hit something and it broke.
“I don’t want to push you. I’ve already done that and now you almost—you could have died.”

“Nico, we’re going around in circles. You’re not responsible for what she did.”

“But I’m responsible for wanting to be with you, for introducing all this craziness into your life. The paparazzi, the media, the stalker? Those are because of me.”

I sniff
led, determined not to cry. These tears would be tears of frustration and anger. I couldn’t lose it, not yet, not when I had him on the phone, not when we were talking for the first time in days.

“Being with you is my decision.”

“You said yourself that I pushed you into this.”

“I was out of my mind with worry! I was reacting without thinking—”

“You need time—”

“I need you!” I growled at him, at the phone. I was suddenly angry with the phone because it felt like a barrier between us.

Again I was met with silence.

I huffed, dug my nails into my palm as a reminder to stay calm. “Nico
 . . . listen to me.” My voice wavered, shook dangerously. I had to take three calming breaths before I could continue. “Yes, I did just go through something terrible; there was a minute, a moment where I thought that I might die.”

Nico cu
rsed again. It was a whispered curse, both impressive in creativity and vehemence.

I continued. “And when you go through something like that you realize what is really important, what matters
, right?” I paused, hoped he would fill in the blank before I said it. When he remained silent I supplied the answer. “You. You matter. We matter. We belong together. You’ve known it for eleven years and I’ve known it for five days. You can’t take this away from us.”

“
I’m not.”
He didn’t sound at all convinced of his own words. My heart constricted painfully.
“I’m giving you the space and time to be sure, to be certain. I’m sorry for not returning your calls, I wanted to
—
you can’t know how much
—
but I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“You’re pushing me away.”

“I’m not pushing you away!”
His voice rose; I could sense his frustration through the phone.
“Do you think I like this? Do you think this is easy for me? It’s not! It’s fucking hell!”

“Then why?”

“Because, regardless of why you said it, you were right. You were right about everything, especially when you said that you never wanted this, never wanted me.”
It hurt to hear him repeat the words back to me. I hated myself for saying them. I hated my short temper.

“
I even admitted it to you last week, at your knitting group. I told you I was playing this as a game to win. I don’t want you to be with me and then leave me when you realize what life will be like, with the paparazzi, with all the crazies. I want you to be certain. And we can’t build something on a shaky foundation. We can’t be together because I pushed you into it.”

“Why?”
My voice cracked. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“
Elizabeth . . .”
He paused. For a second I thought he was going to hang up, but then he continued.
“I’m not walking away. I’m not pushing you away. I’ll be back next week and we’ll talk about what comes next.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything else because
I could feel my mounting anger, the next words out of my mouth would likely be ill-advised, reckless, and hateful. I needed to calm down.

“
I love you.”
His voice was soft, like a lovely caress. I knew he meant it.

My tears burst free with a suddenness that surprised me. I closed my eyes again at the onslaught and managed to respond in an extremely watery voice. “If you love me then stop hurting me.”

We were both quiet for a long time. I listened to his silence, and he listened to my silent sobs.

Finally, because I knew I needed sleep
, and because I needed to rip off the band aid if I had any hope of recovery, I said, “Goodbye Nico.”

And I hung up the phone.

It was
still Tuesday, and I was not knitting.

I woke up to administer Angelica’s afternoon infusion and spend some time with both her and Rose. Just being
around Angelica did wonders for my spirit. She was bravery and joy defined.

When the time came to depart I was surprised, upon walking out the door of the penthouse, that I now had four bodyguards assigned to me.

My entourage and I meandered down to my apartment. It felt lonely so I invited them all in. Only two took me up on my offer. Luckily the girls came soon after, and, when they arrived, the guards left to take their posts by the door.

I’d already filled my ladies in on as much detail as I could manage.

I told them about the not-date with Dr. Ken Miles: some of the elevator discussion, glossed over the more explicit details of Thursday night, told them about the Friday morning kinda, sorta marriage proposal, the lab coat incident, my freak out in the elevator, our fight early Saturday morning resulting in his speedy departure, then finally all about shoot out in the doctors’ longue.

Sandra promptly pulled me into my bedroom
, and we left everyone else in the living room, reeling from my story.

“Let me tell you how it’s going to be
,” Sandra glared at me, her face was severe, rigid. “You
are
going to make an appointment with this person.” She pressed a card into my hand. “You are going to talk through what happened yesterday. Additionally, you are going see them for no less than six months to work through all the other pain and loss you’ve suffered. Do you understand?”

The card she handed me was for a trauma councilor
, and I had every intention of making an appointment.

I didn’t object.

I nodded dutifully.

I slipped the card into my pocket.

She studied me and my passive, accepting response; her face morphed from stern to pensive concern. “Now I know something’s wrong.” Sandra reached for my shoulders and pulled me into a tight hug. “Oh, peanut.”

After another squeeze, Sandra pulled far enough away to watch my face. “Are you ok
ay to go back out there?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I feel
 . . . horrible.” We both smirked at each other.

“Yes. I imagine you do. You went through a lot last night.”

“Honestly, I haven’t even started processing last night.” I rubbed my forehead with my index and middle finger. “The time, apart from Nico, has been really difficult.”

She nodded then threaded her fingers through my hand, tugged me toward the living room. “Come on. I know that
this is a subject that should be discussed with an audience and alcohol. If I don’t let Fiona have her say on the matter she might frog my work in progress.”

Sandra tucked me under her arm and led me back into the living room.
At first they didn’t stop knitting, just looked between Sandra and I as we entered.

“Are you going?
You have to go see someone.” Fiona narrowed her eyes at me as I took the seat next to her.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“If you don’t call then I will call for you, tie you up, and drag you there.” Her tone was very motherly, matter-of-fact.

I gave her a small smile that didn’t reach my eyes, though usually it would have. “I know. I promise.”

I glanced around the room and found that everyone was watching me with sympathetic eyes. I wanted to crawl under the table. I didn’t want sympathy. I wanted help. I wanted them to help me figure out how to talk some sense into Nico.

Abruptly Sandra shouted, “
I call shenanigans! No one in their right mind would fight against falling for that hunka hunka burning love!” Sandra waved a thick wooden knitting needle through the air as though it were a wand. “He’s smart, he’s crazy sexy, he’s over Venus in love with you, and he’s got those Johnny Depp eyes—except they’re green.”

I said nothing
as I was momentarily stunned by her shift in tone and mood.

Sandra poked me with her needle
, winked. “I don’t understand why he left in the first place.”

Then I realized what she was doing. She was trying to turn the topic away from the events of the previous evening
; she was trying to give me some space. She was a great co-pilot.

“You should have called us earlier. We could have come over on S
aturday night. Why did you wait until today to tell us all of this?” Marie’s expression was a cross between concern and exasperation.

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“At least you should have called us immediately about the stalker and all that craziness yesterday.” Ashley’s face was shadowed with concern. “That’s a scary meatball right there.”

“For the record, I don’t think you necessarily overreacted in the elevator
on Friday, especially given the situation, what you’d just been through. And also, in hindsight, she did turn out to be dangerous.” Kat gave me a supportive smile.

“
I wish I’d said nothing at all on Friday,” I mumbled. “Maybe he was right to leave.” Now I was just being morose and purposefully obtuse.

Sandra clucked with abject horror.
“Those are damn lies! Just stop fighting it, Elizabeth. Give yourself over to happiness and stop being such a wanker!”

“I’m not fighting it, ok
ay? I just—I mean, maybe he’s right? Maybe I do need time. Aren’t I allowed time?”

“No!” The room answered in unison, even Janie.

I scowled at her.

She scowled back. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re in love with him
and you’re miserable about it. Time isn’t going to help. I would be a bad friend if I told you to continue with your crazy mental arm wrestling over something you’ve already decided.”

“The problem with Elizabeth is that she knows she’s hot. Plus she makes the money. She’s a hot doctor
—no one wants to deal with that. She might as well be wearing a sign that says, ‘Only Nobel Prize winners and professional athletes need apply’.” Ashley’s attention didn’t stray from her knitting as she made this declaration. She held the lace weight work in progress directly in front of her face and squinted as she attempted to knit the difficult pattern.

“Or raunchy stand
-up comedians who she is already in love with.” Marie sipped her wine and smiled at me over her glass. It was a knowing, teasing smile. One she employed when she was trying to get a rise out of its intended target.

“I’m
 . . .” I struggled, squeaked, then managed to sigh. “I don’t know what I am, everything is just impossible.”

“Why impossible?” Kat’s quiet question forced me to meet her gaze. Her expression was compassionate
, but threaded with challenge and disbelief.

“Because
—because I can’t be laissez-faire about this! I don’t want to
try things out
. I want everything to be settled, decided. I want him to stop pushing me away for my own benefit. I have a brain! I am capable of making my own decisions! I can and do use it with frequency!” I buried my face in my hands.

“Well it can’t get any more decided than marriage.” Fiona
studied me. “Why didn’t you just say yes?”

“Because
 . . .” I was so tired of crying; my eyes burned. “I was afraid, okay? It was so sudden and . . . I don’t know what I would do if something happened to him. I don’t want to lose him, I can’t go through that again.”

“Sorry if this comes across as depressing
, especially in light of what you’ve just been through, but, hon, he could die tomorrow in a car accident. For that matter, so could you, so could any of us.” Fiona’s voice was gentle, kind. “Why are you fretting about something you have no control over? Don’t you know you have to take happiness and love when and where you find it? If you love him and you know that he truly, deeply, madly loves you—and deserves you—then give yourself to him without condition.”

“I do. I know all of that!”
If I hadn’t been out of tears I likely would have burst into complete waterworks prompted by Fiona’s compassionate lecture.

Janie’s voice cut through the prolonged silence. “Elizabeth thinks
 . . .” I glanced at her through my fingers. She waited to continue until I pulled my hands from my face. “Elizabeth
used to
think, and I’m not so sure whether she still does, that people only have one great love. That you can only fall in love once.”

This proclamation was met with silence and furrowed brows of confusion and incredulity.

“What are you!? A Disney princess?” Ashley’s annoyance powered semi-shout surprised the room. She dropped her knitting to her lap and glared at me, apparently sincerely perturbed by Janie’s revelation. “Get over yourself! We all have to fall in love more than once—even if it’s with the same person.”

“It’s true.” Fiona nodded
. “Greg and I fall in and out of love constantly, depending on what time of the month it is, how much sleep I’ve gotten, how the kids are behaving, and whether he’s done the dishes within the last three days.”

Ashley snapped her fingers and pointed at Fiona
. “Right! That! See? It doesn’t matter how much you avoid it, love finds you. Love will hunt you down, throw you over its shoulder, pull you kicking and screaming caveman style by the hair, and bludgeon you with its love club until you submit. It’s the most relentless force in the Universe. There is no where you can run—”

“Ok
ay, Dirty Harry,” Fiona lifted her voice over Ashley’s impassioned monologue. “I think we can all agree that you’ve made your thoughts on the subject very clear.”

“So what am I supposed to do?
I’m just supposed to wait around until we’ve spent enough time trying each other out? I can’t stand the thought of him being hurt. I can’t stand the way he’s hurting me. I can’t go through this again.” My heart already felt shredded.

“Too damn bad, blondie.” Ashley
cocked a single eyebrow, pinned me with her blue eyes. “The love beast has reared its ugly head and your flesh is lunch, dinner, and dessert.”

“Love beast?” Marie and Sandra both said at the same time.

Ashley
tsked
then picked up her knitting again. “You know what I mean—and damn it all! I’ve dropped another stitch!”

“Elizabeth, what is it that you want?” Fiona’s eyes searched mine. “It sounds like you’ve admitted to falling in love with him.”

“I have. I do. I love him. I insane love him.” I studied my fingers.

“Then what is the problem?” I glanced up to find Marie, and everyone else,
watching me with plain confusion.

“I don’t want to lose him and
I don’t want him to leave me,” I admitted.

“Why do you think that’s going to happen?”
Kat said.

I fixed my attention back on my twisting fingers.
“Well, when he says things like
let’s just take it one day at a time
, and
we’ll try each other out for a while and see if it works
, and
maybe we need a little distance to figure this out
, then yes. Maybe he’s being reasonable and I can’t see reason, but I suddenly feel like I’m a pair of shoes and he hasn’t made up his mind whether or not he wants to buy me. Meanwhile I’m sunk at the bottom of the ocean, drowning on it, over my head in love with him.”

The room
was silent for a long moment. I briefly looked up from my hands, my gaze snagged on Fiona’s. She was smiling at me, softly, gently.

“But didn’t you just say you needed time?”

“No! I mean—yes, I needed, like, ten seconds of time to figure out if I’m okay with him taking some time! And I don’t think I’m okay with it. I don’t want him to have any time that isn’t me and him time. I’m tired of alone time. I want us, all the time!”

“Elizabeth, have you told Nico this is how you feel?”

I shook my head. “I tried! I really, really tried. But he . . . he won’t listen. Especially after what happened yesterday, now he’s saying cracked things like I’m in danger because of him. He’s making me crazy! I don’t even know how I feel other than miserable. What am I supposed to do? Ask
him
to marry me?”

Fiona
nodded. “Yes.”

I blinked, flinched, wrinkled my nose. “That’s preposterous.”

“It sounds like he’s trying to give you space. It sounds to me like he’s wanted you all along and he’s been waiting for you to play catch up.”

I gazed onto her elfish eyes, considering this, considering her words. “I feel like I’m losing him.”

“Then go find him,” she pushed.

“How?”

“Tell him how you feel.”

“
Except for this morning, after the fancy stalker episode, he won’t take my calls. I’ve tried calling him nonstop for the last four days and he doesn’t pick up. And today he told me that I shouldn’t call him again this week!”

Every day without talking to him had
been torture and, now that I had talked to him, the idea of going another four days made me feel sick. What made it worse was that I didn’t know what to expect at the end of those four days. Obviously because I loved punishing myself, I slept in his bed. It still smelled like him. I was pathetic.