Lance,
Thank you for last night. I spent so long falsely romanticizing our relationship and making it into something it’s not. Last night showed me the truth. I paid attention to the way you reluctantly touch me and the way you robotically went through the motions, as though making love to me was a task.
You’re right. I do deserve someone who wants every part of me.
I’ve gone to my parents’ house for the week. I ask that when I get home, you’re not here. I don’t know what your plans are or where you’re going, and I don’t want to. At least not right away. For now, the only contact I want is through our lawyers. I hope you understand.
I love you and I hope you’re able to find happiness.
Maisy
Chapter One
Ten months later
Lance
“Dr. Miller, Mrs. Porter is requesting your presence.”
I remove my reading glasses, set them on my desk, and look up from my computer to see Boaz, a nurse at Beacon Island Hospital, standing in the doorway. He’s a beautiful man. Statuesque, full of hard lines and soft curves. Like the way his sharp jawline meets his tender neck. Or his delicate caregiving hands meet his veiny and muscled forearms. Past me would shy away from recognizing these things about a man, but current me has come to some realizations about myself. Mainly that I’m gay. Not asexual or bisexual. Flaming gay.
“What now?” I ask, digging my fingers into my tired eyes.
“She thinks she’s having a heart attack. I showed her that the monitor would alert us, but according to her”—he air quotes—“only a doctor would know for sure.”
“That woman is going to be the death of me. Can’t we release her already?”
“Sorry, doc. That woman refuses to pass gas, or at least admit to it.” He strolls further into the room and plops down on the couch I keep for the nights I’m too swamped to go home. “But if you sign off on it—”
“Fuck that. Can you imagine if she developed a POI? We’d be stuck with her for weeks.”
His chuckle is deep and throaty. “Yeah, you’re right. I’d have to plan a vacation to get out of being her little bitch again.”
Boaz leans back, resting his arms behind his head on the back cushion and throwing his long legs open wide. He has a casual and relaxed air around him. It’s what attracts me most to him. He’s the polar opposite of myself.
I know he’s gay. I’ve heard him talking to other nurses. If I were further along on my self-discovery and we didn’t work so closely together, I might ask him out. It’s a recurring fantasy I have that will stay firmly in the illusory section of my mind, but it’s fun to pretend sometimes. Especially when you’re a lonely man in a new city.
“Tired?” I ask.
“Yeah, man. My brother had an algebra test today and I was up all night teaching him linear equations”
“If he’s related to you, he must be smart,” I compliment.
“Apparently, I got all the smarts in the family. That idiot’s brain is fried from too many video games.” He sits upright and meets my gaze with his light brown eyes that are kind and soulful.
“Your parents couldn’t help him? Your job is life or death, after all.”
He jumps up abruptly and holds his hands out defensively. “My home life would never get in the way of my job, doc.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. You’re the epitome of professional and prepared. I’m sorry.” I close my mouth and shake my head to stop my word vomit. Then I try again. “I only meant you seem to take on a lot of responsibility.”
“Yeah, well, my dad works long hours as a mechanic. It’s a taxing job for a man in his sixties, so by the time he gets home, he’s not good for much.”
“And your mom?” I pry. I’ve worked with him for a year, but we aren’t friends. What I do know about him is said in passing.
“She died giving birth to Elijah. I was a seventeen at the time and stepped in to help raise him.” He lifts his chin in pride.
“That’s commendable.” I put my glasses back on and stand. “Better go see to Mrs. Porter. If we’re both in here, there’s only one person she could be bothering right now.”
Boaz’s eyes widen. “I’m never going to hear the end of this.”
We both rush down the hallway. Sidney, the other nurse working today, is nothing short of a bitch. She’s very good at what she does, but she has no people skills. If she’s left alone with a patient, I’ll no doubt be hearing from the hospital administration about her cussing out yet another patient.
I collapse onto my bed, exhausted after another long day. I don’t regret moving here, I’m more settled than I’ve ever been in my life. But the job is exhausting and I’m becoming a shut-in. My time is spent at the hospital or at home in bed. I haven’t made friends and my social life is nil.
Despite all that, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. It was scary to dig deep and admit my truths to myself. I get panicky and sweaty thinking about the day I admit them to someone else, but there’s also a twinge of excitement. I want to explore the side of me I’ve ignored for so long.
After I packed my meager belongings and filed for divorce, I spent two weeks road tripping from New York to my new home. I took the time coming to peace with my decision and forgiving myself for all the hurt I caused. I can’t change who I am, and if I’d stayed, I would’ve prevented myself from the living the life I was meant to have.
After arriving in Brigs Ferry Bay, I purchased a penthouse in the Wolffish Luxury Condos. I love it almost as much as the one I had in New York. It’s smaller and isn’t decorated as immaculately, but it’s brand new and modern with a gorgeous view of Wolffish Bay. The real estate here is dirt cheap and it barely made a dent in my savings.
I’m still a short walk from the hospital, but everything here is a short walk. The townspeople are nosy and gossip, but since I’m a recluse, there isn’t much for them to say.
Eventually, I’ll get out and meet people. If I have it my way, a second hospitalist will be joining the team soon. The blossoming developments have increased the population, making the job too big for one person. I found the money in the budget and wrote up a proposal I’ll present to the board next week.
My cell phone rings from where I left it in the kitchen. I groan. It must be the hospital. I was hoping for a much deserved and necessary night off. Every bone in my body is screaming for a full eight hours of sleep. It was wishful thinking.
The ringing stops abruptly, then immediately resumes.
“I’m coming. I’m coming.” I hoist myself up and amble back to the kitchen, answering without looking at the caller I.D. “Hello?”
“Is this Lance Miller?” an unfamiliar voice asks in a professional tone.
“This is.”
“Hi, Mr. Miller. My name is Claire Fremont. I’m your ex-wife’s attorney.”
It’s been a while since I’ve thought about Maisy. I respected her wishes and haven’t contacted her since I left the city. At first, it was difficult. We went from speaking daily to radio silence. It was an adjustment I struggled my way through. Occasionally, she pops into my mind and I spend a moment or two hoping she’s doing well, but mostly I’ve tucked her and everyone else from my previous life into a neat folder in the back of my mind.