Checked (28 page)

“I know what happened with, um, what happened before. And I know what you needed him to do before you…I’ll do that for you, I mean, if you even want to—”

“Stop.” I raise my head up so my chin rests on his chest. If we had any sort of power, I would probably be able to see into his eyes right now.

I continue. “Yes. Yes—I want to do this. But you don’t have to—”

“I want to do it for you.”

“But I know that it’s crazy. That I’m crazy.”

I wish I could see his eyes during the silence that follows.

Eventually, his hand begins moving through my hair again, and I hear his mouth open to speak.

“I understand. And I’m starting to love your crazy.”

Wow.
All of a sudden, I’m unbelievably indebted to the storm for the power outage. Since I can’t really see his face, I’m pretty sure he can’t see mine right now.
Did he just say—

“Now, Callie, let’s get you to sleep.”

He softly moves my head back to its sideways position on his chest as he manages to pull the covers up around me, around us. Once he’s tucked us both in, he loses his hands once again in my hair.

“Tonight, we will be preparing a baked macaroni and cheese dish,” he begins.

I close my eyes and find myself drifting off rather quickly.

“To begin, we need to preheat the oven to…”

Chapter 20

another weekend

WHEN I AWAKEN, IT IS light outside. I am still in the same position, tucked comfortably in his arms, on his bare chest. Judging from his heavy breathing, I’m pretty sure he is still asleep so I nuzzle my head further into his chest and plant three kisses on his warm skin.

A slight gasp comes from above me. Guess he’s awake now. I lift my head to look at him, and he gives me a lazy, boyish smile before starting to talk.

“And that is how you make a delicious dish of baked macaroni and cheese. Simple as that.”

After playfully swatting him on the arm, words start spilling out of my mouth.

“You really get me. The food thing with the sleeping.” He nods and a somewhat distant look comes to his eyes.

“Mom did it too.”

Oh.

“But with her, it was sports. A sports channel had to be on every night all night so she could sleep. But when people asked her about her favorite teams, they were met with a blank stare.”

I just nod. Sounds about right.

He is looking at me, but his mind is far away.

“I’m so sorry about your mom. I didn’t mean to bring her—”

“No—it’s fine.” He’s coming back. “There are a lot of similarities…” He blinks his eyes, shakes his head, and flashes me a smile. “So, should I make you some real breakfast or what?”

Sure. If you want to make something out of crackers and ketchup packets.

“Well, you might have trouble creating something from the contents of my fridge.”

“Right—the not cooking thing. I guess you only buy prepackaged-type foods.”

I nod. “Yeah.” But he won’t find many of those right now either.

In a bold move, I decide to come clean. “My fridge is pretty empty right now in general.” I look down at his chest. “I skipped grocery shopping this week.”

“Guess I’m not the only one completely sucking at our therapy.” He laughs as he says it, and I meet his amused eyes.

“Completely sucking, huh? Is that a technical term, Doctor?”

He manages a pseudo-serious face before firmly saying, “Yes, it is.”

Charming. He’s freaking charming lying here in my bed. Under me. Making me feel more carefree than I have felt in…forever. Who says he’s not good at this therapy stuff?

Just as I begin to reach up to him for a kiss, my cell phone rings.
AARRGGHH
. Giving him a frustrated smile, I get up and grab my phone.

Melanie.

“Hey, Melanie. How is your trip going?”

She talks for a couple of minutes about hanging out with her in-laws and about shopping in Ohio. It sounds like she’s having a good time, like she’s not actually working every second for once.

While she talks, I notice that my alarm clock is blinking and wonder when the power came back on. I also begin to feel self-conscious about my lack of clothing so I slip into bed and pull the covers up over my legs. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer. It feels perfect.

Melanie brings up my trip to Pittsburgh. Of course. She makes me tell her exactly what roads I’ll be taking and when I intend to leave. I tell her, mainly because I know she’ll just keep calling and asking until I do (if she doesn’t make Mandy do it).

She must be at least temporarily satisfied with my answers because she tells me she has to go get Abby dressed. We say our goodbyes and hang up.

“Do you always recite MapQuest directions so early in the morning?” I can hear the smile in his voice.

“If Melanie calls, you never know.”

“It sounds like she must be pretty nervous about your trip.”

“Yeah. She knows that driving is not my most favorite activity. It will be fine though. For Mom’s birthday dinner, I can manage some time in the car.”

He runs a finger up and down the exposed part of my arm. It’s dizzying. It’s even hard to remember how much I despise driving while he does that.

“So the dinner is tomorrow evening?”

“Yep.”

His finger moves up and down, up and down, up and down…

“Okay. I have a proposition for you.”

“This ought to be good.” I can only imagine that this will involve some sort of evil therapy session tomorrow morning or afternoon. Unfortunately, I can also imagine myself going along with whatever it is just so I can see him.

“I want to drive you to Pittsburgh.”

What?

“No—did Mandy put you up to this?”

“She didn’t. So you don’t need to say no. Let me do this. Think of it as an apology for all of the rough stuff you’ve gone through this week.”

Oh, the irony.

He continues. “Or maybe as a thank you for trying. However you want to think of it is fine. Just let me take you. I can drop you off and hang out in Pittsburgh a little until you are ready to go home. Unless you would rather go home with Mandy, of course.”

“No, no, no.” I shake my head forcefully, bumping into his shoulder as I do. “I will be fine. Really, I’m not even that worried about it.”

Guess I’ll have to add lying to today’s confession list.

“Well, I’m worried about it.”

“Ah…so you have no faith in my driving, and you’ve never really even seen me behind the wheel.”

“No, that isn’t it. I am concerned about your anxiety levels, your worrying.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll be fine. New topic.”

Nestling my head into his shoulder, I focus on his finger still caressing my arm.

“I’m not ready to change subjects. I told you that I have a proposition—there’s something in it for you too. Something that won’t be easy to turn down.”

“What is it?” I say it with as much irritation as I can muster, considering the fact that I am resting in complete comfort pressed up beside him.

“Well, my guess is that you have something to do this morning. Something that will probably take, I don’t know, approximately three hours. Something pretty structured and, I’d imagine, kind of personal.” His finger stops moving on my arm. “If you don’t let me take you tomorrow, I’ll stick around and watch every second of your little morning activity.”

Raising my head in surprise, I see his self-satisfied grin.

“Wow, Dr. Blake. Look at you making light of a highly serious, very rational medical condition.” I stop to smile. “I’m rather pleased with your progress—two weeks ago, you couldn’t see any humor in it.”

“Well, I’m trying my best. Especially when it works to my advantage.”

As he raises his eyebrows in amusement, his eyes twinkle. They actually twinkle, these eyes that occasionally seem to hold all the sorrow in the world.

He knows that he has me stuck. Obviously, I don’t want him to watch my mortifyingly lengthy and precise morning routine. And it’s pretty clear that I’m not physically or mentally capable of just skipping it. So it looks like he’ll be driving me to Pittsburgh.

“Fine. You can take me. But you can’t just drop me off—Mom would kill me for my bad manners. You’ll have to sit through dinner.”
So there. This won’t be all Patty Cake and Go Fish for you either.

“That sounds nice, if you don’t think I’ll be imposing. I can’t remember the last time I was at a family dinner.”

That’s right. No relatives for miles and miles. I can’t imagine…

“No—you’ll have to stay to eat. They’d be pissed if you didn’t.”

“Well, I don’t want to piss off your family before I even get to meet them.” Get to? “So I will keep up my end of the bargain and leave you to your morning festivities.”

He squeezes my shoulder, plants a soft kiss on my lips, and takes himself out of my bed.

“I really wish you’d go to the grocery store today, but I know to ask you to do that would be futile. If you want, I can pick up some—”

As I step out of bed, I shake my head to stop him. No, he is not picking up my groceries. Even though it would be nice to avoid going to the store for another week…

We begin walking out of my room.

“All right, well, I’ll talk to you later so we can make plans for tomorrow,” he says as we go down the stairs.

Nod number 1,263,966.

At my front door, he pulls me in for one more kiss.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you, Callie.”

“Thanks for cooking me to sleep.”

He smiles and goes. Once I see his car pull away, I close the door, lock it, twist the handle three times, and run to the hallway bathroom to look at my smile in the mirror.

So this is what my face will look like if I’m ever cured of my anxiety. I’m not sure that I’m on a path to a cure though…I think this is something different altogether. With that thought in mind and the smile still on my mouth, l launch my morning preparations.

DESPITE THE FACT THAT I can’t stop replaying last night in my mind, I have a rather productive day. My paper on
The Scarlet Letter
is typed and printed. I’ve played several words in the games on my phone. (I’m still beating him, but Melanie is destroying me.) Another week’s worth of sins have been forgiven. (I hope—I’m still not entirely convinced that the slate is wiped after confessing each sin only once.) I’ve somehow managed to scrounge up enough granola bars, fruit snacks, and cups of yogurt to eat a full day’s worth of calories. If I could just knock out some poems for my portfolio, I’d be set.

While I’m trying to focus on inspirational things to say about rainbows, Melanie calls again. She has found a bus that I can take to Pittsburgh tomorrow, and she knows I hate public transportation, but she thinks that maybe this will be better than having to drive, blah, blah, blah. Considering my recent bus trip, I highly doubt I’d rate driving as the greater of the two evils. She doesn’t really give me the chance to say that, though, as she’s already started to talk prices and departure times.

Even though I don’t want to bring it up, I do want her to stop talking (and I don’t want her to go ahead and buy me a bus ticket) so I tell her about my new plans for tomorrow. She reacts more maturely than I would have expected. I’m sure that will change once she talks to Mandy.

Using a polite flight attendant or perhaps gala hostess voice, she tells me how kind that is, how nice it is that I’ve found such a dedicated doctor. I pretend to buy this as real conversation, as her honest thoughts, so the discussion will end already. Might as well let her go so she can call Mandy and Mom and maybe even Jared.

It’s probably better this way—if they know in advance, maybe they can get their jokes over with and manage game faces by the time tomorrow night arrives.
Here’s hoping.

We say goodbye, and I go back to my pointless poetry writing attempts.

9:00 P.M. HIS FIRST TEXT COMES after I’ve already started my night preparations.

Hey—stop playing such big words! You are killing me here.

Smiling, I reply.

Sorry—I find it relaxing to beat you unmercifully. Isn’t relaxation the whole point of our game, Doctor?

My phone buzzes again seconds later.

So you would say I am succeeding in the relaxation portion of your treatment?

Reply.

Something like that.

Carrying my phone with me in my pocket, I continue my routine. My hip starts vibrating as I begin scrubbing the microwave. It only takes me a few moments to rip off my gloves, throw them in the trash, and wash my hands in the kitchen sink. After I towel dry my hands, I pull out my phone.

Another text.

So…how was your day?

I threw out a pair of gloves for that?

Reply.

Good. Busy. And yours?

While waiting for his response, I grab a new pair of gloves and finish the microwave. My phone vibrates again as I’m cleaning the front of the dishwasher. I force myself to wait to check his next text until I’m finished with the kitchen and this pair of gloves.

9:33 p.m. Gloves trashed. Hands cleaned. Phone out.

Well, my day started rather nicely. It’s been pretty boring since then…