One Night with the CEO (17 page)

T
he Saturday after Karen’s first med school exam, she sprang an impromptu gathering on him. “A few students from my study group are getting together tonight,” she told him. “To celebrate the end of the first exam period. I made plans to catch up with them at Bourbon in Adams Morgan. Want to join me?”

The idea of hanging out with a bunch of medical students—in a bar, no less—held zero appeal for him. “I’ll pass.”

Karen snuggled into him and rested her chin on his chest. “Come on. Just an hour or two,” she said, her voice playful. When he didn’t respond, she shook him and pretended to pout. “Pretty please? It’ll be fun.”

“Your idea of fun is very different from mine. I’m a little too old to be hanging out with a bunch of med students.”

She backed up and pursed her lips. “Wow. Sorry I asked. I didn’t realize wanting to grab a drink with friends and, oh, I don’t know,
talking with them
, would make us star-crossed lovers. It’s not like I was suggesting we hang out at a frat house. And for your information, some of them are your age.”

He pulled her back into his arms. “I’m not in the mood to go out tonight. It’s as simple as that. That’s what I should have said when you asked.”

“Fine,” she said in a clipped tone.

He’d averted a crisis. Next time he would choose his words more carefully. He rested his chin on her head and rubbed her back. Arms at her side—and still pissed, apparently—Karen stood in the circle of his arms like deadweight. He stepped back and lifted her chin. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

She shifted in place, her dim eyes staring back at him. “I have to head back to my place. To change.” She pasted on a smile. “Have fun doing”—she waved her hands in the air—“whatever it is rich single men do on a Saturday night.”

She grabbed her purse and walked out the door, closing it softly. He would have preferred for her to slam the door shut instead. A slammed door meant he’d angered her, but a soft click of the lock was much worse in his mind; it meant he’d hurt her.

An hour later, he ran at a brisk pace along Connecticut Avenue. To clear his head, he told himself. But his thoughts centered on Karen, and he couldn’t outrun them no matter how much he tried. He pictured her at Bourbon, chatting with friends and enjoying herself. He wanted that for her.

Mark ran over a mile before he realized he’d crossed into Adams Morgan, a neighborhood dubbed “quirky” and “eclectic” by travel guides. A hotspot for weekend activities, the area attracted a diverse crowd, from hipsters to suits to college students, but a single man running through the streets at sunset still raised a few brows. As if such a man were suspicious by virtue of the fact that he had no plans to frequent a bar or dine in a restaurant. Why else would one be here after all?

He asked himself the same question when he found himself in front of Bourbon’s entrance. Yes, he might regret showing up unannounced, but the possibility that he’d hurt her feelings earlier propelled him up the steps anyway.

The silver-suited bouncer, a beefy guy with a blond Mohawk, greeted him at the top of the steps. Thor eyed Mark’s running attire and raised a hand like a crossing guard. “Not going to happen, buddy. We have a dress code.”

“I’m not staying,” Mark said as he reached inside the pocket of his shorts for his billfold. “I just need to check on someone and then I’m gone.” He held up a hundred-dollar bill. “Are we cool?”

The bouncer looked at the bill and waved him through. “I expect to see you soon,” he said as he plucked the money from Mark’s hand.

“No worries. You will.”

Mark surveyed the main level but didn’t spot her. He’d been here before, years ago, so he knew there were two other levels where she could be. Two minutes into his search, he found her on the second floor, where, unlike the other levels, an actual bar dominated the loft space. Steel chairs and tables were crammed together for maximum occupancy.

Several members of her group chatted with one another. Karen sat in the dim corner, however, smiling at her friends but not quite engaging with them. He’d done this to her. Put her in a bad headspace such that she couldn’t have fun with her peers. A few poorly chosen words had caused her to withdraw into herself, and he suspected her mind spun with so many thoughts, she couldn’t both process them and be sociable.

He spun around and headed back downstairs. He’d just hit the first step when a finger tapped his shoulder. Karen’s finger.

He held on to the stair rail and looked up at her.

“Going somewhere?” she asked with a soft smile.

“I didn’t want to interrupt. Bad idea on my part.” He gestured at his legs. “And I’m obviously not dressed to hang out.”

She eyed his running outfit. “No, definitely not the suave businessman look I’ve come to know and love. Hang on. I could call it a night and come with you. Let me just get my purse.”

She turned, but he tugged on her arm to stop her. “Karen. Stay.”

She tilted her head to the side and squished her eyebrows together. “You don’t want me to come home with you?”

“I’m headed out of town on business early tomorrow morning. A last-minute trip that couldn’t be avoided.”

“Oh, okay. When will you be back?”

“In about a week.”

“Oh.”

“It’ll go by quickly. And when I get back, we’ll have dinner. And talk. About us.” He climbed the steps to reach the landing and kissed her on the forehead. “Take care of yourself.”

He didn’t look at her. Instead, he raced down the stairs and rushed out of the bar. The night air cooled his face as he gulped in air. Funny. He felt more winded now than he did after his run.

K
aren rushed down the main hall of the Fidler Building, eager to get to her human gross anatomy lecture. The entire first-year class of over two hundred students took the class, so getting a decent seat in the lecture hall proved to be a significant challenge.

She hovered near the door and scanned the room for a seat near the front. Pasha, a student in her study group, waved her over, pointing to the empty seat beside her.

“Hey, Pasha, thanks for saving me a seat,” she said as she pulled her laptop from her backpack.

Pasha gave her a warm smile. “No problem.”

During the first week of classes, she and Pasha had bonded over their mutual disdain for Henry Winslow, another student who’d weaseled his way into their study group. At their first meeting, Henry had claimed not to need a study group, explaining that he still wanted to join them because he thought the rest of the group might benefit from his input.

Pasha had wrapped her hands around her neck as though she were being choked, and Karen had pretended to bang her head against the table, after which the women had shared conspiratorial smiles. Later, they’d entered into a pact to ignore Henry altogether.

“So today’s the day, right?” she asked Pasha.

Pasha widened her eyes and nodded vigorously. “I hope we’re in the same group. And I hope Henry gets booted off the island. I couldn’t imagine having to be his lab partner.”

The minute their professor entered the lecture hall, the boisterous chatter lowered to hushed whispers. Dressed in a lab jacket and gray slacks, with a pair of eyeglasses hanging from a silver chain around her neck, Professor Haines looked like she’d been plucked right out of central casting. She completed her professorial look with a perpetual scowl.

Their professor approached the podium and tapped on the mic. “Good morning, everyone. My teaching assistants will be posting the results of the first exam at the end of the class. Those of you who scored eighty percent or better will be e-mailed this afternoon with your lab group assignments and should report to the lab for the next class. The rest of you should report to the lecture hall. One of my TAs will be here to answer any questions. Bear in mind the retest will be a new set of questions. Okay, let’s proceed with today’s lecture.”

At the end of the class, Karen sprinted to the back of the room and scanned the test results posted on the wall. The pages listed nothing but numbers: each student’s personal identification number and their grade. She found her number and gasped: 58.
Shit.
Not only had she failed to make it into the first lab group but she’d bombed her first medical school exam, too. And if she didn’t ace her remaining exams, she’d find herself on probation. Though tears threatened to fall, she blinked them away, smiling through the disappointment because Henry Winslow was staring at her.

“How’d you do?” he asked.

Henry knew asking that question was rude—the unwritten rule of med school was that people discussed grades only when that information was volunteered—but she was sure he didn’t care. If an opportunity to gloat presented itself, the competitive jerk would take it.

Karen grimaced. “Didn’t make it. Guess I’ll be taking the retest in two weeks.”

“Bummer,” he said with a smile. “Better luck next time.”

Still stunned by the exam result, she didn’t bother to show her annoyance at Henry’s obvious pleasure in her disappointing exam score. “Yeah. I’ve got some work to do.”

Henry trotted away, an irritating spring in his step prompting her to picture him being attacked by a swarm of bees.

Pasha joined her, her face impassive.

Karen answered her silent question. “I didn’t make it.”

Pasha threw her hand around her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Karen. But you’ll take the retest in two weeks and join us then. No big deal.”

“Do you mind if I ask you how you did?”

Pasha hesitated. “Um. Ninety?”

Karen grinned. “Is that a question or an answer?”

Pasha blushed in response. “I scored a ninety,” she said, this time with more confidence in her voice.

Pasha had two small children and a husband who worked irregular hours as a physician’s assistant. How did
she
do it? “Congrats. That’s fantastic. And I’m super impressed that you’re able to keep your head on straight despite your personal responsibilities. What’s your secret?”

Pasha covered her mouth and leaned in. “I totally ignore my kids and husband when I need to. In fact, it’s a wonder my kids go to school with clothes on. And most days I make questionable fashion choices. I used to consider sending the kids to school with mismatched shoes a mistake. Now I’ve tricked them into thinking it’s a style choice. There’s no magic, Karen. It’s all about priorities.” Pasha paused. “My unsolicited advice? Don’t get too caught up in that grade. It’s your first exam. You’ll rock the next one.”

Karen nodded, mentally acknowledging what she’d been ignoring these past few weeks: She’d lost sight of her priorities. What medical student took a weekend trip to wine country just days before a major exam? Even her decision to hang out with her classmates at Bourbon had been out of character for her. The old Karen would have declined her classmates’ invitation and spent the entire weekend studying instead. But she’d wanted to relax and get to know her classmates, something she’d never let herself do in college.

Karen had spent too much time with Mark and not enough time focused on her studies. But she would easily change that—because she had no other choice.

Mark rang the bell for Karen’s apartment. He hadn’t seen or heard from her for a week. They hadn’t parted on the best terms the last time they’d seen each other at Bourbon so he wasn’t surprised by her radio silence. Still, he wanted to check on her and make sure everything was okay.

Her soft voice crackled through the intercom. “Yes?”

“Karen, it’s Mark.”

She didn’t respond.

“Karen?”

“Sorry. Let me buzz you in.”

When he reached the second-floor landing, she stood at the threshold of her apartment, holding the door ajar. One bare foot covered the other, and dark circles rimmed her eyes. She looked so vulnerable standing there.

He wanted to hug her, but he placed his hands in his pockets instead. “Hey.”

She swung open the apartment door and stepped aside to let him in. He followed her inside. She plopped onto the couch and gestured for him to take a seat, too. Books and papers covered her kitchen table, and a stack of dishes, one plate away from toppling over, sat in the sink. A pile of unfolded laundry partially hid the armchair in the far corner of the room.

“I haven’t heard from you. I figured you were busy with classes, so I thought I’d give you some space.”

“I appreciate that. And you’re right. I’ve been slammed with work, so I haven’t had a chance to call you. How have you been?”

He stared at her, trying to gauge her mood. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Mark. I’m just busy. Every day can’t be a fun fest. I assumed you of all people would understand. ”

He chewed on his bottom lip and jammed his hands in his pockets. Busy was one thing, pissed off was quite another, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing a critical piece of information. “Did something happen, Karen?”

Her cell phone rang before she could answer.

“Hello?” she said to the caller. “Oh, hey, Pasha.” She rose from the couch and raised a single finger to let him know she’d need a minute.

He took the opportunity to survey her work space. Her anatomy book lay open on the table, and two stapled pages rested next to it with
58
written in red on the top sheet. She’d gotten a 58 on an exam. Mark sighed. It all made sense now. She’d gotten a poor grade, and she was upset about it. And given her distant demeanor, she blamed him for it, too.

What the hell was he doing messing around with her? She deserved better than this. She was embarking on a demanding journey to become a doctor. She didn’t need him screwing with her head, and she deserved the freedom to do what she wanted, when she wanted, with whom she wanted. She needed to embrace these years, the ones in which she had no responsibility to anyone other than herself. So he would let her go. For her own good. And for his.

She ended the call and crossed the room, stopping a foot away from him. “Pasha’s in my study group.”

“And a friend?” he asked.

She furrowed her brows as though the idea were foreign to her. “Yes. Yes, I guess she is.”

“Look, I came over to talk. I don’t know how to say this…”

She stared at him, a resigned expression on her face. “Just say it, Mark.”

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”