Prologue
Alex’s Journal
I never cared much for the number three.
It isn’t a number I consider lucky, nor has it held any significance in my life before.
I mean, it’s a prime number, but other than that who cares?
The Holy Trinity. The Three Musketeers. Alvin, Simon and Theodore. Snap, Crackle, and Pop. The original Star Wars. Hmm… That’s a good one.
Three was never a big deal in my world.
Until today.
Today is March 3rd, 2003. Three three oh-three.
And today I met the man of my dreams.
I know what you’re thinking, Barnaby. Alex, you’re seventeen. How could you have possibly met the man of your dreams?? All the dudes you know spend their free time smoking pot out of various carved-fruits and pantsing freshmen.
Well, you’d be right. But today, on three three three, I met a man.
I was at the hospital for my volunteer job. Candy-striping is barely even a thing anymore, but Mom was insistent that I spend my after-school hours doing something completely lame and ridiculous. She’s convinced if I’m not constantly preoccupied with performing mundane tasks I’ll turn into a drug-addict. So it was either this or walking the neighborhood dogs. And you know how I feel about dogs…
Anyway, I was at the hospital in my stupid uniform, heading down to Mr. Preston’s room to read him the next couple chapters of Misery, when I bumped into him.
And I mean literally bumped into. I ran right into the guy. Smack into his chest.
He’s so tall I was momentarily frightened that I had stumbled upon a secret wing of the hospital that housed giants. I’m short, as you know, but this guy is like six-four.
He steadied me with his hands on my arms as I nervously gazed up at his face. Blue eyes brighter than the sky shone down at me, stealing every last breath from inside my lungs. I couldn’t move or speak. I just stood there, dumbfounded, while this man held onto me and looked me over.
He’s really gorgeous. Did I mention that?
Probably the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in real life. Like a mixture of Justin Timberlake and Luke Wilson. His nose slightly crooked - not as bad as the other Wilson brother - but clearly from some kind of impact at one point in his life. But I like it. It gives his face character.
He smiled down at me and finally released my arms, slowly, as if his fingers didn’t want to stop touching.
“That’s quite the outfit, young lady,” he said, grinning to reveal the straightest, whitest teeth I’ve ever seen. “Where are you off to in such a hurry looking like that?”
“I’m um… a candy-striper…” I murmured, struggling to find my voice. He was just so tall and hot as hell. It was very intimidating.
“Hmm… And what exactly does a candy-striper do?” He lifted an interested brow.
I shrugged as my cheeks burned a flush under his intense gaze. “I just help out the nurses. I was going to read to Mr. Preston downstairs… He has early onset dementia, so sometimes he gets scared. My reading seems to keep him calm.”
Tall guy regarded me with an intrigued look, blinking a few times. I had no idea why he was even talking to me, but I really liked that I had his attention. I found myself craving it already, and I didn’t even know him. Like if I, Alex Mackenzie, the shy, awkward artist girl from Bay Ridge could manage to captivate someone like him, it gave me purpose.
“That’s very selfless, little one.” His voice was deep and rough. I wasn’t a huge fan of the nickname, but anything to keep him looking at me the way he was.
I chose not to tell him my mom is forcing me to do this selfless thing, and nodded along.
“I’m Alex,” I spoke softly, reaching out to shake his hand.
“Roger.” His giant hand engulfed mine and as soon as it did, sparks sprinkled across my body.
I’ve never felt anything like that before with a boy. I never knew I could feel something like that…
“Are you visiting someone here?” I asked, prying; desperate for more information and more of his words.
“Yes, a patient of mine.” He cocked his head to the side, regarding me with a curious look. It sent a surprising shiver below my waist.
He was a doctor. But I had never seen him there before…
So I asked, “Who’s your patient?”
“Kamal James,” he told me. “He sprained his ankle today at practice.”
The basketball player? Everyone had been all excited, and nervous, about his presence in the hospital today. He’s a pretty famous NBA star, though I wouldn’t know. I’m not the biggest sports fan.
“I’m in sports medicine,” Roger filled in the blanks from what must have been a confused look on my face.
“Oh…”
I really didn’t know how to respond or what I was doing standing around talking to this sexy doctor. He was obviously much older than me, and I had two more hours of work to do. No good could come from continuing this conversation.
But I didn’t want to leave yet…
“Well, I should probably let you get back to your duties, Miss Alex,” he said, somehow reading my thoughts. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”
He winked at me and then turned to leave.
I watched him walk away until he was out of sight, and even then, I couldn’t bring myself to move. My feet were glued to the floor.
All sorts of new feelings rushed through me, and I didn’t have the time to identify or obsess about them. So I forced myself to get going, and went downstairs to read to Mr. Preston.
If you’re feeling like this story is anti-climactic, Barnaby, let me tell you now… It’s not over.
Two hours later, my shift ended. I got changed into my regular clothes and left the hospital, walking toward the bus stop. But before I could get there, a black Mercedes pulled up right in front of me. I stopped abruptly, ready to dive out of the way in case this rich asshole was trying to run me over. And then the window rolled down.
“Need a ride, candy girl?”
It was Doctor Roger.
My jaw went slack as I considered myself. Getting into a car with this strange man was certainly not the best decision. Mom watches Dateline all the time, and a lot of the scary missing person episodes start just like this.
But then again my toes were already curling just from looking at him.
Dad often calls me reckless and too adventurous for my own good. And he’s absolutely right.
“Fine, but I’m texting my mom to let her know I’m in a black Mercedes just in case you decide to abduct me,” I quipped as I rounded the vehicle and hopped into the passenger side.
Roger chuckled and I internally cheered for my wittiness. And of course I didn’t text Mom because what would that get me? Other than a thirty-minute lecture when I got home about how irresponsible I am.
His car was so nice and comfortable, and the interior smelled like wealth and masculinity. I felt insanely cool sitting in this fancy car with him, though I was becoming more fidgety than I could stand. I had to keep pinching my thigh to remember to keep calm.
I told Roger where I lived, which again probably wasn’t the smartest of ideas. But for some reason I trusted him. He seemed like a nice guy, and he’s super sexy, a factor that was certainly clouding my judgement just a tad.