Kaleidoscope Hearts (6 page)

THE THING ABOUT life is that you never know when it will show you something that touches you so deeply that you can’t help but be grateful for everything . . . even the bad. That’s how I feel when wheelchairs holding kids pass by me as I walk down the halls of the hospital with the box of supplies in my hand. I round the corner on my way to Jen’s office and stop dead in my tracks when I see Oliver leaving a room, still talking to whomever is inside. Apparently, his residency keeps him in the hospital for endless hours, because every time Vic mentions his name, he’s here. I’m still standing there when he closes the door and walks toward me. Those green scrubs and that doctor’s coat really do nothing to diminish his good looks. If anything, it makes him look even better, but it’s that confident stride of his and the lopsided smile on his face that makes my heart thunder.

“You’re early,” he says, stopping in front of me.

I frown. “No, I’m not. I’m on time.”

Oliver grins. “On time is early for you. You’re always fashionably late.”

“I
used
to always be fashionably late. Now I’m on time.”

“I’m impressed,” he says, his green eyes playful, as they scan my face. My hands full with the box I’m carrying, I’m forced to blow out a breath to get a strand of hair out of my face. Oliver chuckles, grabbing the hair and tucking it behind my ear. It’s a simple motion, but somehow he makes it feel intimate. His eyes are on mine, his hand still behind my ear, when he steps closer. I’ve never been happier to be holding a box in my life, because the way he’s looking at me makes my heart trip, and I’m not sure what I would do with my hands if they were free.

“What?” I ask, my voice a whisper.

“You’re so grown up,” he says, dropping his voice to match my whisper. It ignites little butterflies in my stomach to take flight.

“You make it sound like you’re so much older than me.”

Growing up, Oliver loved reminding me that he was older. Sometimes he would say it in a lighthearted tone—other times it sounded like a curse—though the curse was only when it was paired with,
you’re Vic’s baby sister.
And then one time he said . . .

He smiles softly. “I’m old enough to know better.”

My mouth pops open, and I take a step back so he’s forced to drop his hand.
That.
He said that.

Oliver clears his throat, as he seems to recall the same memory.

“I have to go. I don’t want to be irresponsibly late,” I say, rushing off before he can stop me.

What is he doing?

What am
I
doing?

I stop in front of a sign that reads: Jennifer Darcia, Assistant Coordinator, and I knock on the door. She calls for me to enter and I do, bumping the door with my hip to close it. I place the box down on one of the empty chairs in front of her desk and smile.

“Hi. I’m Estelle,” I say, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Take a seat. I’m Jen,” she replies.

We shake hands, and I sit down in the chair beside the one that holds the box. She looks like everything I picture as being Oliver’s taste—blonde hair, bright blue eyes, nice smile, and big boobs. The only thing that throws me off is that she’s older. I’m pretty sure she has ten years on me, which would give his little statement a whole new meaning. Maybe that’s his deal—he’s into older women, and I’m too young for him.

“Thank you so much for doing this for us,” she starts. “I’m always looking for new things to keep the kids entertained, but lately the clown shows and movies aren’t cutting it. I just want them to do something different, or at least
with
someone different, you know? If they have to be here, they might as well have a chance to interact with people other than the ones giving them their medicines.” Her eyebrows draw together as she speaks, and I can tell she’s passionate about the kids. I decide I like Jen.

“I’ll do my best to keep them happy,” I say with a reassuring smile.

“Thank you.” She pauses. “Oliver says you two go way back.”

I startle at the sudden change of subject. “Yeah, he’s my brother’s best friend.”

“I believe the term he used to describe you was his ‘favorite person, ever,’” she says. She’s smiling, and I get the impression she wants me to tell her something private about Oliver, but the thing is, her statement floors me to the point of speech loss.

“He said that?”

Jen nods. “He did.”

“That’s . . . interesting.”
Considering everything,
I want to add, but don’t.

“Let me show you your new work space. You said you are available three times a week, correct?” she says, standing up.

“I’m available upon request, kind of like a clown minus the face paint—unless you need me to face paint—but I can’t promise you the stuff I work with will come off easily.”

She laughs and puts her hands up. “No, thank you. I don’t want to be held responsible for that disaster.”

Jen takes me to the next wing and shows me where to go and who to speak to, before heading back to her office. As I walk the hallways, I take in the outdated murals that adorn the walls. The only contrast to the blue that covers the walls are the fish that swim in all different directions. Looking at it makes me feel like I’m suffocating. Who would paint a fish tank on the walls of a children’s hospital? For a place that’s supposed to be comforting to the children and parents that have to see this every day, this is unacceptable. I’m shaking my head in disgust when a laugh snaps me out of the moment.

“I take it you don’t approve?” Oliver says, appearing beside me.

“Don’t you have a job to do?” I ask, dishing out my annoyance at what happened earlier and at the hideous hallway in front of us. I move to brush past him, and I bump his arm slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he says, making me stop dead in my tracks. I don’t turn around. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he continues. “It’s just . . . seeing you and then you . . . I just . . . shit.” He laughs.

I turn and face him. “It’s okay. Apologies have never been your strong suit, after all.”

He cringes, and this time I walk away for good.

EVERYBODY HAS A different definition of
moving on.
For me, selling the house I shared with Wyatt is a way for me to move on with my life. For my mom, moving on means dating. So here I am, sitting across from Derek, who’s actually a really nice guy. He’s been attentive, holding the door open for me, waiting for me to take a seat before he does, and asking me about my day while listening intently. He’s not bad looking either. He’s in shape and has a good sense of style, but for some reason, I’m not really here with him. I keep zoning out as he talks about his job as an architect.

“I’m not boring you, am I?” he asks in a polite tone.

“No, not at all. Sorry! It’s just,” I sigh, “this is a little weird for me.”

“I understand. My mom was telling me about, you know,” he says, waving his hand in my direction.

“Yeah. I’m okay talking about it. It’s just weird to be out with another guy.” I offer him a small smile.

“It’s your first date since you lost him,” he says with an understanding smile.

“Yeah.”

“Are you still . . . how do I say this . . . it sounds weird to say
hung up on him
because it’s not like it’s your ex-boyfriend and he’s moved on . . . ” he says, letting his words hang.

“No, I’m okay. I mean, I’m okay with everything, really. It’s just I’m sitting here thinking about what will happen next—will you try to hold my hand or kiss me good night, or I don’t know,” I shrug and laugh as I look away from him. “I think I just made this weirder.”

Derek laughs. “What if we just take this one step at a time? No holding hands if you don’t want that, and no kiss if you don’t want that. I mean, we haven’t even gotten our entrees yet.”

“You’re right,” I say, smiling and feeling a little bit less uncomfortable. It is just dinner. I have the bad habit of jumping ahead of myself in every aspect of my life. Sometimes I need to learn to rein in some of my anxiety and just breathe. I start to tell Derek about the hospital and the kids I worked with the other day. I tell him how much it opened my eyes to the things I have and take for granted. Dinner goes by quickly after that, and when we reach my brother’s house, the sun has gone down.

“Looks like you have company tonight,” Derek comments, as his headlights flash over the cars outside.

“Yeah, Victor loves having people over. It’s a shame he can’t remember to turn the porch light on,” I say, making him chuckle.

“I’ll walk you up and make sure you don’t trip.”

We reach the door and stand there awkwardly, not knowing what the right thing to do is.

“So . . . kiss or no kiss?” he asks. I can’t see his face, but the smile in his voice makes me feel comfortable.

I take a moment to think about it. I haven’t had a pair of lips on me since Wyatt, but I can’t say I’m not curious to know what it would be like to kiss someone else. Kissing Wyatt always felt easy. It felt comfortable, familiar. Taking a deep breath, I lean forward. Derek’s hands hold the upper part of my arms, and his lips press to mine. A moment later, the light turns on and the front door opens. My eyes pop open, and Derek and I jerk apart from one another like we’ve been caught doing a lot more than just kissing. It feels like ninth grade all over again. Our heads snap to Oliver, who’s holding the door open, arms crossed over his black t-shirt. His green eyes bounce from me to Derek and back again.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were out here,” he says, though he doesn’t look sorry at all.

“A gentleman walks his date to the door,” Derek says, smiling at me.

I return his smile. “Thanks for the date.”

“It was my pleasure. I’ll give you a call tomorrow. Maybe we can do it again soon?”

I glance at Oliver who’s brazenly watching our conversation, and I glare at him before looking back at Derek. “Sure. Call me.”

I wait until he’s halfway to his car before I face Oliver again, narrowing my eyes. “Well? Weren’t you leaving?”

“No, I just heard a noise outside and came to check it out.”

His eyes are glinting with mischief, and it fuels my anger. I move to brush past him, but he grabs my arm and leans into my ear, his whispered growl making me burn from the inside out.

“When do I get to take you on a date?” he asks.

My heart begins to beat frantically, and I tear my arm away. “Never.”

I hear him chuckling behind me as I run up the stairs like a scared little girl, and I realize I
am
scared. I’m fucking terrified of having Oliver in my life because the last time I let him in, I barely made it out with my heart intact. I wonder if he even knows it.

BEING ON THE phone with my realtor all morning made me realize something: You can try to steer your life in a certain direction all you want, but ultimately, the wind is in charge of your sail. It’s a sucky realization. I spend the rest of my morning painting the ocean from the balcony in my room, and then gather my stuff and head to the hospital. When I get there, I walk to Jen’s office and knock once, even though her door is slightly parted.

“Come in!” she calls, so I peek my head in. Unlike most of the people in the hospital, Jen wears slacks and a blouse to work—at least that’s what she’s worn every time I’ve seen her. She looks up and smiles at me as she continues to wipe a stain on her white blouse. “Sorry. Damn coffee.”

“That’s what happens when you wear a white shirt,” I say, as she laughs.

“Every single time. You would think I’d learn.”

I look down at my own white shirt and shrug. “I’m a painter, so I can get away with it. Anyway, I came by to ask you a question.”

“Of course. Take a seat.” She signals to the chairs in front of her, and I plop down in the nearest one.

“I know this is probably impossible to do, but I have to ask—is there any way I can repaint the halls in the pediatrics wing?”

Jen’s brown eyebrows pull into a thoughtful frown.

“I totally understand if it’s not a possibility, but I had to ask.”

“No, no, we actually have to move some patients to another wing temporarily to get some new equipment in, so I guess if you could take advantage of those days, it would be doable. I need to run it by my boss first, though.”