Heart Conditions (The Breakup Doctor Series Book 3) (19 page)

Michael interrupted before I could. “Hey, there—friends of yours, Brook?” He came up behind me, standing too close, but I couldn’t step away without practically throwing myself into Ben’s arms where he still stood in front of me just across the rope barrier.

There had been a half a dozen times that I’d considered telling Ben about Michael being back in town, but I hadn’t. I’d been afraid that mention of my former fiancé would bring up every doubt, every bit of mistrust I’d earned after the Chip Santana debacle.

Now that I was about to be forced to introduce the man I’d once loved to the man I still did, I would have given anything if I’d said something before.

“Adelaide…Ben,” I said, nearly choking on my own tongue. “This is Michael.” I muttered the name, but I saw from the way Ben furrowed his eyebrows and then blinked and recoiled slightly that he’d made the connection.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Ben said, not quite looking directly at me. “Mom wanted to grab a bite on the way home. I can take Jakie now, if you like, so you don’t have to cut your evening short.”

“No, I don’t mind bringing—”

“It’s all right. If I take him I can save you the trip.”

“This is your dog?” Michael asked behind me, and in the tight sound of his voice I heard his understanding of who Ben was. Who he was to me.

He stepped up next to me, but his eyes were glued on Ben, who met his stare with a direct one of his own. For a moment it was a strange little Mexican stand-off, Adelaide and me on either side as the two men seemed to be sussing each other out, each one clearly knowing exactly who the other was. I wanted to fix it—to assure Ben that nothing was going on with me and my ex, regardless of how it looked; to assuage the hurt I’d heard in Michael’s voice. But anything I said to either of them would only make things worse.

Adelaide gave me a long glance with none of the accusation or even disappointment I deserved. Just kindness and a gentle acceptance. “I’m awfully tired, dear,” she said to Ben, laying a hand on his arm, though her eyes stayed steady on mine. “I think I’d just like to go home.”

Ben seemed to remember she was there only when she touched him. He started, breaking eye contact with Michael and moving his gaze to me.

“I don’t mind bringing Jake over later. Really,” I said to him softly, but I heard the desperate edge to my tone. I needed a reason to come talk to him alone. To explain.

But he simply reached for the leash, his warm fingers brushing my wrist and then, to my surprise, giving a slight squeeze before he gently took the lead from my hand. “I’m only trying to make things easier on you, Brook,” he said quietly.

“We should go, dear,” Adelaide said to Ben, offering me a smile that didn’t match the sad look in her eyes.

I watched them turn and move along the sidewalk back the way they’d come, Jake not even glancing back in my direction, Adelaide’s thin, strong hand touching her son’s shoulder briefly before they turned a corner and were out of sight.

twenty-one

“That was him. The guy you wouldn’t talk about.”

We were sitting at our table, and Michael asked the question to my bent back as I leaned over to clean my cuts with a wet cocktail napkin and check for glass. He’d offered to do it, but the intimacy of that had made me recoil—and I needed something to focus on to avoid his searching gaze.

His question wasn’t accusatory—it sounded more like a statement, and I simply nodded, unwilling to raise my gaze and meet his eyes.

“You still care about him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said dully.

“You had his dog…obviously you’re still friends.” There was a long pause, and then: “Why are you here with me instead of him?”

I glanced up at him, confused. “You’re…you’re helping me. We’re friends.”

His lips tightened and he crossed his arms. “It’s more than that, Brook, and you know it.”

I shook my head. “No. We said—”

“I don’t care what we said! Are you really telling me you were totally unaware of what’s going on? All our banter, falling into all our old habits so easily? You ask me about my sex life since I blew things up with us…And then the way you hugged me in your office…And tonight? Honestly, Brook? Who are you trying to fool—me, or yourself?”

I stared at him, my mouth open, but nothing coming out of it.

“Um…would you like us to bring you more drinks, or should we release your table?”

Our server was standing beside us, our mess having been neatly tidied, and I realized the other patrons on the patio were now watching me and Michael like we were a dinner theater show.

Which we were being, with all the drama that had played out in the last five minutes. I swallowed, mortified. Public scenes weren’t my thing, and reminded me unpleasantly of my rock-bottom with Kendall.

“No…thank you,” I told the server. “We’re going.” I stood and reached toward my purse, still hanging on the back of my chair, but Michael had beaten me to the punch, throwing a twenty on the table and taking my elbow to lead me out.

I wasn’t processing what had happened—it had all gone too fast. Adelaide was back and Jake was gone and now I had no reason to see Ben except at our regular Sunday meeting at Dog Beach—and I had no way of knowing whether he’d show up for that again. What was the look in his eyes when he’d caught me from falling? Beneath his confusion I almost thought I’d seen hurt—but why? Just because the scene reminded him of the last time he’d happened upon me with someone else, before everything between us came to a crashing end?

I mindlessly let Michael walk us all the way to Hendry Street before I finally stopped to look at him.

Meanwhile here was another man I’d once cared about—wanting a new beginning. A desire I’d been pretending not to see so I didn’t have to make any choices…and risk making the wrong one.

“I’m sorry,” I said, looking up at him.

He looked confused, then cautious. “Why are you sorry?”

“You’re right. I knew there was more going on. With us. I just…” I blew out a long breath of air, looking up to the Cigar Bar, where Sasha and I used to swagger in once in a while and choose stogies from the chilled vault and sit at the bar smoking them like mafiosos. Back when you could still smoke inside. Back when we were younger. When the biggest choice we had to worry about was whether it was worth making ourselves nauseous from the cigar smoke.

I looked back to Michael, who was watching me with no trace of his usual levity. Waiting.

“I was trying not to…to rush into anything,” I finally finished, searching for a truth that wouldn’t hurt either one of us.

One corner of Michael’s mouth lifted in the grin I knew so well. “Brook, I was asking for a date, not a lifetime commitment. Not yet,” he added quickly. “But I mean, not necessarily either, unless that’s what we—”

Despite everything, I laughed. “It’s okay. I know what you mean.” I threw my hands out to the sides in a giant shrug. “Jesus, I’m so tired of this minefield between us.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

What had I been thinking? Michael had come all the way back across the country to make things right between us, to show me he’d changed…to ask for a second chance. And I’d been keeping him at arm’s length, in reserve, while I chased after someone who’d long since moved on. Making an idiot of myself.

Someone passed by too close, bumping my arm. “Sorry,” the girl called with a backward wave, shiny hair swaying behind her like a liquid curtain.

I turned to Michael. “Ask me out.”

“What?”

“Ask me on a date. Right now.”

His eyebrows lifted. “A little bossy, aren’t you, Veruca?”

“Come on,” I said, filled with a strange urgency. “Do it.”

He looked to the sky as if for divine intervention. “You know, I’m only feeding the demon if I cave to your demands. This kind of thing has to be organic.”

I just faced him, hands behind my back.

He crossed his arms and leveled an implacable look at me, but I could see he wasn’t trying that hard to outwait me. “Fine,” he said. “Brook. Will you please go out with me?”

I rolled my eyes. “That sucks. You have to be specific.”

“I don’t remember you being this high-maintenance.”

“Come on.”

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Brook…will you please accompany me this Friday night, March fourth, at seven in the evening, for dinner and cocktails?” He raised one eyebrow. “Do I need to specify the menu?”

I swayed into him, bumping his shoulder with mine. “No. That was really good. Yes, Michael,” I said fiercely. “I’d like to have dinner with you.”

“Good God. That was harder than the Israeli-Palestinian peace talks.” But he was smiling at me, his eyes warm.

We walked side by side back to our cars, and I managed to keep the smile on my face until I waved goodbye and pulled away.

twenty-two

With one major exception last year during the most mortifying of my breakup breakdown, there hasn’t been a single decision, piece of news, or life development that I haven’t shared with Sasha.

Except this one.

It wasn’t that I didn’t
want
to. Partly I just felt stupid—I’d done exactly what she told me not to in pursuing a friendship with Michael, and it had wound up backfiring, exactly as she said it would: I couldn’t imagine there was any reason for me to hold out hope with Ben after he’d seen us together. And if I told her that afterward I’d finally agreed to an actual date with Michael…well…I knew what she’d say. And I didn’t want to hear all the reasons my decision was foolish.

I already suspected it was.

But I had the rest of the week to worry about that. For now, I could focus instead on work—always my comfort when my personal life was overwhelming. Michael had tasked me with asking Lisa Albrecht for a raise, and that was a battle I needed my loins well and truly girded for.

“I have four things on fire and exactly three and a half minutes for you, Brook, so enter talking,” Lisa said without looking up from her monitor as I walked into her office at lunch on Wednesday afternoon for our appointment.

“And hello to you too, Lisa.”

She let out a long-suffering sigh, but finally glanced at me. “Really? Every single time?”

“It’s a social nicety. And it makes people feel as if they matter to you.”

She made a dismissive gesture in the air. “Why would I lie to them?”

I crossed my arms and leaned against her cubicle opening, perfectly willing to wait the abrasive woman out.

Another gusty sigh, and then: “Fine. Hello, Brook. How are you today?” She said each word woodenly, as if it were a memorized script, but I considered it progress that Lisa actually made an effort.

“I’m good, thanks for asking. Sounds like you’re having a tough day.”

She leaned back in her upholstered seat, motioning for me to sit on the chrome-and-fabric chair opposite her desk that took up most of the rest of her cubicle. “A sick photographer. A reporter who’s lost somewhere in Cape Coral and missing the ridiculously non-newsworthy dog parade that we nonetheless are supposed to be covering. A story that’s such a mess, I’m wondering whether my reporter actually understands English. The usual. Tell me you have something good for me.”

This was not going to fall under that category. But if I waited for Lisa Albrecht to have a good day before asking for my raise, I’d never make an additional dime.

I led with: “I wanted to thank you for running my article.”

“What article?”

“The one you came to my office about? Two weeks ago?” Her expression was still blank as a whiteboard, and my eyebrows rose to my hairline. Lisa was truly hectic if she’d overlooked a chance to lord her largesse of spirit over me in reconsidering something. “About forgiveness?” I tacked on.

“Oh, shit. Did you actually keep that in?”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out of it, and then Lisa’s poker face hairline-fractured into the trace of a smile, the equivalent, for her, of a loud guffaw. “I’m just crapping you. Yeah, whatever.” She waved a hand. “I thought about what you said. I can forgive that jackass.” She fixed me with a hard glare, raising one warning finger. “I do
not
forget. But I can forgive. And as far as columns go, it wasn’t total shit.”

“Aw, Lisa, you say the sweetest things.” She just rolled her eyes, unamused by me. “Actually, my column is the reason I’m here.”

“Let me guess. You want a raise.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted to talk about. How did you—”

“Please. As soon as your little Bobbsey twin asked for one, I knew you weren’t going to be far behind. Why don’t you two just make out already? You’re not fooling anyone.”

I knew Lisa wasn’t serious about me and Sasha; sarcasm was just part of her natural reaction to stress.

“I didn’t know Sasha asked for a raise, actually,” I confessed. “But she deserves one, don’t you think?” I knew she was one of Lisa’s best reporters—a terrific writer who dug deep for the story and never missed a deadline.

Lisa kicked away from her desk, sending her chair wheeling back against the wall with a thunk. “Deserving or not, I can’t compete with the
Tribune
.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Trust me, she’s one of the few semi-competent reporters I have—if I could meet her asking price, I’d do it, even though in this economy I could get three reporters to fill her shoes for the same salary. But the
Tropic Times
doesn’t have the kind of budget a big-city paper does. I suppose you’re going to threaten to jump ship for Tampa too?”

I just stared at her blankly until finally I came up with, “What?”

“Don’t tell me your girlfriend hasn’t mentioned this to you?” Lisa smiled and crossed her arms over her chest, looking infuriatingly smug. “Well, that changes things. I’m calling her bluff. If she hasn’t told
you
about it, then she’s not really going.”

Except the sick feeling in my stomach filled in the rest of the story that Lisa didn’t know—if Sasha hadn’t told me about this, then it more likely meant she was considering career advancement and relocation—over marriage and motherhood.

Did Stu know?

I reached blindly to my feet until my hand found my purse, and rose. “I have to go,” I whispered numbly.

“What, did you accidentally tip your buddy’s hand?” Lisa crowed. “If she can’t have her raise, you’re not going to push for yours? Come on, Brook—don’t be a total patsy. I’ll throw you an extra fifty a week. Brook? Brook! This is a onetime offer!”

But I was already halfway down the hall toward Sasha’s end of the building, and Lisa’s words fell away behind my retreating back.

Fifty feet later I stopped, leaning against the wall and breathing hard.

I wanted to confront my best friend. To charge into her cubicle and demand to know why she’d been keeping to herself such a monumental decision—one that had potentially life-altering repercussions for her—for my brother, my family…and me.

Except…it didn’t, a voice spoke up inside my head. For all that we were deeply involved, deeply invested in Sasha and Stu and whatever future they might have, it was Sasha who would bear the greatest weight. Stu had built his landscaping business up over years of networking—he wasn’t about to move to Tampa and start from scratch. It was Sasha who would have to turn down a job that could take her career to levels that would never be possible here in Fort Myers. And though I had no doubt my brother would be an involved, hands-on daddy, Sasha would carry this child for nine months, would be the one breast feeding for who knew how long, would probably, realistically, wind up being the prime caregiver for a child she feared she wasn’t ready for.

I’d told her that everything she was getting was everything I wanted. But was it? At least at the moment?

I tried to put myself in her shoes. How would I feel if right now, overnight, I were facing all the responsibilities and demands she was? If, in the middle of my career’s seemingly steady upward trajectory, I had to put everything on hold and completely switch gears?

I couldn’t imagine it. I wasn’t ready to. I couldn’t even fathom getting a dog.

Of
course
I could understand Sasha’s reactions.

Yet it didn’t change my feeling of hurt.

But right now, freshly stung from it, wasn’t the time to confront her. And the offices of the
Tropic Times
certainly weren’t the place. I straightened, took a deep breath, and made myself turn around and head toward the exit.

The thought didn’t strike me until I was in the parking lot and climbing into my Honda: Was I angry and upset because my best friend had apparently decided that marriage to my brother and motherhood weren’t for her?

Or because she’d made this decision without me?

Despite the fact that the sun was low in the sky and shadows filled the car, I kept my sunglasses on when I got to Ben’s. I didn’t want him to see my eyes, still red and sunken and bleak when I’d checked them in the rearview mirror. I wasn’t entirely sure why I was here…or even when I’d decided to come. After seeing Lisa, I’d gone home to finish out the rest of the client appointments I had scheduled, but as the day wore into early evening, with no Paige, no Jake, no one in the house except me and my agitated thoughts, I couldn’t bear to be there alone anymore. I got in my car and drove—and as if from muscle memory from the last week dropping off Jake, I’d ended up in Ben’s driveway.

But I couldn’t make myself get out of the car. I didn’t have his dog anymore. I hadn’t even remembered to grab Jake’s things, so I’d have at least the excuse of dropping them off. Not that there was much to return—the dregs of a bag of dog food and a couple of chew toys I knew Ben cycled through on a regular basis. There was no reason for me to be here.

Except I wanted to be. I wanted to talk to Ben about what he’d seen downtown, with me and Michael—clarify things. And I needed to talk to someone about what I was feeling about Sasha—and the only person besides my best friend who I wanted to confide in…was Ben.

I looked up at the house, the lit front porch light telling me he was home. I could knock on the door and tell him…what? That I hadn’t been dating Michael when he ran into us, but apparently I was now? That my best friend and my brother were pregnant, and I had no idea what was going to happen? I couldn’t say any of those things. And I couldn’t imagine why he’d want to hear any of it anyway.

I didn’t belong here.

I jammed the car into reverse and turned to back out of the driveway, when a knock on my driver’s-side window startled me so badly I mashed the gas and shot backward almost into his mailbox.

“Jesus!” I stomped on the brake and came to a screeching halt, my head jerking back, my hands shaking on the wheel.

Ben stood a few feet in front of me, Jake on a leash at his side, Jake’s panting and the dark spots dotting Ben’s shirt telling me they’d obviously just come back from a walk. My heart still thudding, I lowered the window. “You scared me.”

Jake’s tail started swishing so fast it blurred, and he pulled toward my car, but Ben kept him firmly at his side. “Brook?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

I shook my head and gave a weak smile, waving away the question. “Oh, I just…I meant to bring back Jake’s stuff, but I forgot it…Silly. It’s not much anyway. I can just bring it over another…Or not. It doesn’t really matter. I…” I ran out of words, blinking. I wanted to put up the window and speed away, but Ben had moved closer, dipping his head to peer directly at me.

“What’s wrong, Brook?”

Hot tears speared into my eyes and spilled over.

“Hey…Hey,” he said, face creasing with concern, and then my door was opening and he was kneeling beside me, Jake’s wet nose pressing against my shoulder as Ben released my seat belt and took me in his arms.

It was so exactly where I’d wanted to be again for so long. It felt so comfortable and familiar and
right
. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and buried my head in the crook between his neck and shoulder as if by muscle memory, breathing in his familiar scent, the slight smell of sweat, and finally let myself cry.

The tears came from more than Sasha’s secret. I cried for all lost things—the happy future I’d envisioned for my best friend and my brother. The easy threesome we’d been all our lives, which had morphed with their couplehood into my being a little bit on the periphery, and now might morph again. I cried for the little niece or nephew I might never know, and for the pain a decision like that would cause all of us.

I cried for me and Ben, and the past we’d lost, and the future we’d never have.

He held me all through it, not talking, not doing anything except offering me the warmth and comfort of a human embrace, while Jake—big, goofy Jake, somehow sensing that something was wrong—sat quietly beside him and pressed his head into my armpit.

Ben didn’t let go until my sobs finally slowed, and then he only pulled back, not away. “Come inside,” he said gently, wiping at my cheeks with his thumbs. “Come inside and talk.”

I didn’t even try to resist, just followed him as obediently as Jake into the kitchen, where he poured me a glass of ice water and we sat at his breakfast table, across from each other.

“What happened?” he asked.

I shook my head, mute. I wanted so badly to let out all the things I’d been tamping down—my fears for Sasha and how she’d feel years from now if she made a choice she couldn’t live with. About whether she and Stu could weather it. No, I realized…I wanted to tell
Ben
. But I was silenced by my loyalty to my best friend, and to my brother.

Yet Ben was sitting across from me with his eyes on mine—steady, strong, sure, the way he used to look at me when we were together that made me feel as if I were the most important thing happening at that moment. The most important thing in his world, period. And I couldn’t help unburdening at least part of it.