She was so incredibly sexy in that dress that I was hard for her from the first time I saw her coming toward us in the wedding party processional. When she took hold of my arm to walk down the aisle after the happy couple said, “I do,” her touch sending a charge through me, all I wanted was to get to know her. We had the best time that day, dancing, talking and laughing.
My phone chimes with a text from my mom. Saw you landed. Hope you’re safe.
For God’s sake. She kills me. I know how she worries and why she worries, but sometimes her hovering is just too much. I’m a thirty-four-year-old surgeon, and my mom still checks on me like she did when I was a sick teenager. Wait until she hears I’m thinking of relocating to Miami. She’ll lose her shit—and probably come with me. She’d live with me if I’d allow it. That is not going to happen.
Did you remember your meds?
Yes, Mother. Relax. All is well.
I want to remind her I’m a doctor who knows all too well what’ll happen if I don’t stay on top of my meds. But I don’t remind her of that. She went through hell with me and never left my side through the worst of it. I’d never say anything other than “thank you” to her, even when she’s driving me to drink with her hovering.
She tells me that someday I’ll understand when I have kids of my own, but that’s not going to happen. I’m not bringing kids into this world when I won’t be around to raise them. The thought of them losing me in some dramatic, traumatizing way makes me shudder. But that’s not something I’ve come right out and told my parents. I walk such a fine line where they’re concerned.
“Hey, man,” the Uber driver says. “We’re here.”
I realize I zoned out and had no idea the car had come to a stop. “Thanks so much.” I grab my bag from the seat next to me and get out of the vehicle. Standing on the curb, I text Jay. Here. What’s the secret to getting in there?
Coming down.
I’m waiting outside the main doors when I see Jay come off the elevator, smiling widely. He’s wearing basketball shorts and a tank top and looks nothing at all like a world-class neurosurgeon. After giving me a one-armed bro hug, he takes my bag as we head for the elevator.
I want to tell him he doesn’t have to carry my bag, but old habits die hard.
“Glad to see you, buddy,” Jay says. “I was so stoked when I heard a cardiothoracic spot is opening up at Miami-Dade. I said to Carmen, I’ve got to get Wyatt back here, stat.”
“Thanks for thinking of me.”
“Of course I thought of you. You’re the best of the best, and we’d love to have you here with us.”
“Well, you would, but Carmen might not be too happy if we get up to our old ways.”
“Ha! She knows I’m thoroughly domesticated these days.”
We get off on the seventh floor, and he leads the way to his place, where the door is propped open.
“Carmen, Wyatt’s here!”
Jason’s pretty wife comes out to hug me. “Great to see you.” She has the same dark hair and eyes, olive-toned skin and curvy body that Dee has. Dee is taller than Carmen but not as tall as her sister, Maria.
“You, too. Thanks for letting me crash on your sofa this weekend.”
“We’re happy to have you anytime. Can I get you a drink?”
“I got you some of that lemon seltzer you like,” Jay says. “I’ll get it for you.”
“We have stronger stuff than that,” Carmen says.
“Thank you, sweetheart, but I don’t drink.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry.”
“No worries.” I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t eat red meat. I don’t do caffeine or anything that might endanger my fragile health. The good news is I never got the chance to develop a taste for booze before my doctors put it on the list of forbidden substances.
Jay pours the seltzer for me, a glass of wine for Carmen and mixes a cocktail for himself. We take our drinks outside to their awesome patio that overlooks Biscayne Bay. The spring air is warm but not oppressive like it is in the summer, or so Jason told me.
Carmen goes back inside and comes out with a charcuterie platter that the three of us enjoy while we catch up. I stick to the cheese, crackers and fruit, while they enjoy the salami.
“How was the honeymoon?” I ask, even though I already know they had a blast in Turks and Caicos because I’m friends with them on Facebook.
“It was awful.” Jason grins at his wife. “We hated it.”
“Worst trip ever,” Carmen adds. “So bad we’re already planning to go back for our first anniversary.”
“You have to get to one of the all-inclusive resorts,” Jay says. “You’d love it.”
“I’m sure I would,” I tell him, even though I have a lot of other things ahead of that on my bucket list. And yes, I have a list. You would, too, if your life expectancy was as shitty as mine is. I want to drive cross-country. I want to go to Paris. I want to spend a month in Italy and travel from north to south to see as much of it as possible. I want to spend a month each in London and Dublin. I want to go to Australia and New Zealand. I want to write a book about being a heart patient who becomes a cardiothoracic surgeon. I’m well aware I might not get to do any of it, but I do have a list.
Carmen’s phone chimes with a text. “Maria is asking what we’re up to and if we’d like to come over for drinks and takeout.”
“I’d be up for that if you are, Wyatt. You probably remember from the wedding that Carmen’s cousin Maria lives with Austin Jacobs, the pitcher who recently signed with the Marlins. Their house is sick.”
“Sicker than this?” I gesture to their stunning view.
“Way sicker than this,” Jay says.
Of course, I want to go. Dee will be there. But I try to play it cool. “I’d be down with it. Whatever you guys want to do is fine with me. I just need to grab a quick shower.”
“I’ll get you some towels,” Carmen says.
Thirty minutes later, we’re on our way in Carmen’s car to Austin and Maria’s place. I’m looking forward to seeing this so-called sick house, but more than anything, I can’t wait to see Dee. I think about texting her to tell her we’re coming, but I figure she knows by now.
I wish I knew how she really feels about seeing me again, if she’s anywhere near as excited about it as I am, and then I again feel like a complete and total jerk for being so excited to see her. I remind myself over and over again of the rules I’ve set for my life. There’s no reason for me to take someone else down with me when I go—and I will go sooner rather than later. That’s just my reality.
“Oh shit,” Carmen says, reading something from her phone while Jay drives.
“What’s wrong?”
“Maria texted me. Dee’s ex, Marcus, is in the hospital. They think it could be a possible suicide attempt.”
I sit up taller, tuning in for intel about Dee.
“Is that the guy who married someone else?” Jay asks.
“Yeah, he’s the only guy she’s ever dated. They were together—on and off—for years.”
And he married someone else? What the fuck? I want to know more. I want to know everything, but I bite my tongue so I won’t pepper Carmen with questions. Thankfully, Jay is curious, too.