Second Opinion (18 page)

CHAPTER 15

PRESENT TIME

Memories overwhelmed me as everything I’d been feeling for Avery collided with the past.

I was in love with Avery. I’d finally admitted it.

I had only felt that way about one other woman in my entire life. As promising as things had looked for Rachelle and me, what we had ended in utter destruction.

But how could I possibly say no to her? She was in town. She wanted to see me. Maybe she wanted to finally apologize for the way she ended things. Somehow I doubted that, even though I deserved much more than an apology.

I knew I was a complete idiot for even thinking about seeing her.

But I was pulled to her. I always had been. And I wasn’t sure whether what I’d formed with Avery was strong enough to compete with that.

I wanted it to be, but I was plagued with confusion. I was thrust back in time to that week we’d spent together, to the perfection we’d shared until it all blew up in my face.

And I still bore the scars from that explosion. Debris still cut me. I had moved on as best as I could, but it had taken four years for me to believe I was going to be okay. It had taken the past month with Avery for me to see there was a new light that burned despite the darkness.

And then Rachelle had to send me a fucking text. She had this uncanny ability to step into my life and fuck me over every time I was ready to forge ahead and forget about her.

I had a second chance at love. I was looking toward a future with Avery.

I wondered if Rachelle’s words to me when she’d denied my proposal had really been true. For the first time since her rejection, I’d started looking toward the future. I started to think I really needed that second opinion on her diagnosis that I wasn’t marriage material. She was a Physician’s Assistant—practically a doctor—but that didn’t make her an expert on me.

CHAPTER 16

FOUR YEARS EARLIER

I was grateful for vacation time.

It had been easy to build up vacation time when I had a broken heart. I didn’t want to sit at home, alone with my thoughts, and some days I didn’t want the complications that came with women. So I threw myself into my work, avoiding taking days off and building up my reputation within the company as a hard worker and a go-getter with ambition. I was young, the youngest project manager by nearly ten years, but I’d managed to move into the position when George retired the year before because of my work ethic and my dedication to seeing projects through to completion.

Rachelle was supposed to be at a work conference the week we were together, but she attended a few mandatory sessions and otherwise stayed with me. I had taken off the entire week in order to spend as much time as possible with her.

We spent days naked, holding each other, regretful when she had to leave for a few hours for a meeting.

We’d fallen back into exactly what we’d had three years before, and it had only been three days.

“What’s this session about?” I asked as she pulled on a pair of heels. I was lying naked on my bed, and she was getting ready to leave my place to head out for a meeting. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun, and she was wearing glasses. A few wisps of hair escaped, and she tucked them behind her ear. She looked like an intelligent doctor, a woman in control of the world in a dark suit paired with a pink shirt underneath.

She could give me a hernia exam any day of the week.

She’d long abandoned her hotel room, and her suitcase stood open on the floor of my bedroom. She kicked it closed.

“Toxicology.”

“Do you deal much with that?”

She shrugged. “I deal mostly in non-emergencies, but I get a lot of emergency calls.”

“How do you respond to those?”

“I tell them to hang up and dial 9-1-1.”

“Smart and gorgeous. How do you do it?”

“Good genes.” She leaned over and kissed me and then ran her fingertips from my chest to my abdomen. “I’ll only be a few hours.”

I wanted to tell her I loved her, because I did. That hadn’t stopped. Feelings don’t just go away, but when a person steps out of your life and back into it, feelings I thought had faded sure managed to reappear quickly.

But I didn’t know if the “L” word was appropriate yet.

“I’ll miss you.”

“Ditto,” she said, grabbing a portfolio from the dresser and slinging her purse on her shoulder. “See you soon.”

She left, and I lay in my bed thinking about her, thinking about how we got to this place.

Thinking about the future.

It had taken me exactly twelve hours to know this time we were going to make it the distance. It was seven o’clock in the morning after we’d first met in the restaurant, and I woke up to her naked body climbing up over my own. I opened my eyes just as she guided herself onto my dick, and I lazily grabbed her hips as she started moving over me.

Everything about her stirred profound feelings in me. She was my first and only love, the only woman who knew how to control my heart, the only woman who I wanted to give my heart to. Even after what we’d been through, I was still certain she and I would end up together, and now more than ever I knew we were destined to be together.

We’d been too young the last time, but now I was twenty-eight. She was thirty. We were old enough to know what we wanted out of life, and I wanted a family with her. I had never felt the urge to have children, but when I held her in my arms, I felt this strong need to procreate. Maybe it was just the utter horniness she stirred in me, but I tended to think it was something much more than that. Sure, she made me horny; but more importantly, she made me see the future. She made me look ahead rather than behind.

She made me look forward to every single moment we’d get to spend together, and that was what sealed it for me. I wanted a future with her. I didn’t want this to end after a few short days. I wanted to find a way for the two of us to be together again.

I didn’t want to give up my job or my house, but for her, I would. I’d do anything.

We hadn’t spent much time talking about her situation, whether she owned a house or if she’d be willing to move from her life in Riverside back to Phoenix, but we’d figure it out. We had all the time in the world ahead of us, and I was thrilled for what awaited us in the future.

I made the decision to talk to her about it when she got back.

I went to the grocery store for wine and steaks. I set up candles on the kitchen table. When she arrived back home, the steaks were almost ready and she pulled together a salad while I poured the wine.

“How was your day, dear?” I asked, and she chuckled.

“Fine.”

“Learn anything new about poison?”

“Oh, all kinds of fun facts.”

“Are you enjoying the conference?” I asked, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

“Not as much as I’m enjoying my time with you. I’m not sure I want this week to end.”

I handed her a glass of wine, and we clinked glasses. “There’s actually a few things I want to talk about,” I said, setting my glass on the table after a sip.

“Oh?” she asked, her eyes not meeting mine.

“Let me just get the steaks and we can talk over dinner.”

Once we were seated, I initiated the conversation. “We’ve skirted the issue, but I’ve have two topics I want to discuss. One’s about the past, and one’s about the future.”

She looked uncomfortable, averting her eyes to her plate.

“I know it’s difficult,” I said, trying to be placating. These conversations were awkward, but we needed to have them.

She cut into her steak, and her fork slid across her plate. A harsh, grating clang interrupted our conversation.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“Can we start with the past?” I took a bite of my salad and she shrugged, so I continued. “Can you look at me?”

Dark eyes met mine. Hers looked pained. This was clearly a conversation she didn’t want to have, but she didn’t have a choice.

I’d always allowed her to take control of our relationship, but I’d grown up some since we’d been apart. I wasn’t going to let her get away with avoiding something that needed to be addressed. And maybe that was part of why things had ended between us before. Maybe it was my laziness and inattention to the little things that made her say no the first time.

I wasn’t trying to be a dick; I was trying to get the things I deserved this time around.

“Rachelle, why didn’t you want to marry me?”

She cleared her throat, and then she took a deep breath. She set down her fork and knife, and then she picked up her wineglass and took a big gulp. When she set down the glass, she took another breath.

And finally, after all of that, her eyes met mine.

“I was young, Grant. I was twenty-seven. I’d barely gotten established as a PA. I wasn’t ready for marriage and kids. Shit, I hadn’t even met your family yet.”

“But we had been together for almost six years at that point.”

“Exactly. Six years, and you never thought to introduce me to your parents. We’d become crutches for each other because we’d been such good friends first. I was terrified I’d marry you and I’d never know what else was out there.”

That hurt. It was one of those incisions that would never fully heal despite the optimism I had now that she was back.

I had been so in love with her I hadn’t cared what else was out there.

Even now, I knew I’d sampled enough of the pool to be positive Rachelle was the one woman put on this earth for me to find.

But she hadn’t felt the same, at least not at the time. The only hope I had left was that maybe she’d sampled enough of the pool to realize what else was out there, to realize we were right together. I had to hope whatever else was out there wasn’t good enough for her, but I was.

“I’m sorry, Grant,” she said. “That sounded harsher than I meant it to. But when you dropped down to your knee and asked me to marry you, I knew it wasn’t right. I knew I couldn’t say yes to you. I’d thought about ending things a million times, but I was so content with everything we had. It wasn’t earth-shattering, but it was good. But good wasn’t what I wanted for my future. I wanted earth-shattering.”

She had thought about ending things a
million
times?

Why hadn’t she ever just fucking talked to me about it?

I asked her. “If you were so miserable, why didn’t you ever let me know?”

“Here’s how I think about it. Think of your bed. Your sheets are comfortable, right? And the longer they’re on your bed, the more comfortable they become. But you know you have to wash them at some point. Do you see where I’m going?”

“You’re comparing our relationship to
sheets
?”

She chuckled. “Okay, it sounds stupid when you say it like that. But what we had was comfortable. I didn’t want comfortable for the rest of my life. I wanted to be challenged, to be so in love I saw fireworks every time you walked into the room.”

“You didn’t?” I was bewildered. I thought that was what we had.

“I felt sparks when you kissed me when we first started dating.”

“But they faded.”

She nodded.

“So why did you want to see me again? It should’ve been easy for you. You bowed out and cut off all contact for three years after we’d become a permanent part of each other’s lives.”

“I had to know if I’d made the wrong decision.”

“And?” I asked, nervous for her answer.

“And…” Her voice faltered, and she took another deep breath. “And I know it’s been wonderful being with you again.”

“That’s it? That’s all I get?”

“For now, that’s the best I can do. I’m sorry.”

“So you’re here for the week and it’s going to end like it did last time.”

“I don’t know.” I saw tears fill her eyes. I knew she was confused, and I knew I was putting her on the spot. I wanted to feel bad about it, but instead I just felt bad about our entire conversation. Not
bad
as in sympathetic;
bad
as in hurt and angry and confused.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get over you again,” I said softly.

“I don’t want you to. I want this to work this time. I just can’t rush into decisions or promises or even ultimatums. I need time.”

I nodded. “I can give you time. But I need something. It doesn’t have to be a decision or a promise, but I need something to hold onto. I can’t go into this full throttle only to be destroyed like the last time.”

“I really fucked you up, didn’t I?”

“More than you know.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice sincere. “We should’ve spoken again. To clear the air, at least. But things happened quickly. I interviewed for a job in California and they needed me to start a week later. I didn’t
want
to hurt you, but I knew I had. I knew my words to you had been hurtful, and for that I apologize. There were too many reminders here. I needed to get away; it’s cliché, but I needed a change. And suddenly it’s three years later.”

“Time may have gone quickly for you, Rachelle, but it’s been three years of hell for me.”

She closed her eyes, and when they reopened, I saw remorse. “I’m sorry.”

“Look, that’s four times you have apologized to me during this conversation, and not once has it taken any of the pain away. So please stop. I get it. Let’s move on.”

She looked hurt by my harsh words, but I didn’t know what else to say. It was difficult to hear I had loved her more than she had loved me, but at least I had a reason. I’d suffered through three long years with no reason other than her telling me I wasn’t “marriage material.”

“I wanted to talk about the future, too, but you already touched on that when you said you couldn’t make any promises,” I said, trying to change the subject from the past.

She shrugged. “I don’t know, Grant. Talking beyond this week scares the life out of me.”

“Well talking about the past does the same thing to me,” I muttered, popping my last piece of steak into my mouth.

“Then let’s just live in the present. Let’s just be happy we’ve got this time, and we’ll figure it out on my last day. Can we just do that?” She was pleading, and I was weak.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “We can do that.”

I wasn’t sure what made me agree to it. Call it intuition.

Guess what? Men aren’t known for their intuition.

There’s a reason why the phrase is “woman’s intuition,” not “man’s intuition.”