I want her, desperately in fact, and I can’t have her. Ever.
Unrequited love seems to be my thing. It was with Alanna, a woman I was a resident with down in Virginia Beach. I was crazy about her for four years and then by the time I actually made a play for her, I was too late. She had met someone else.
I was stupid and arrogant, thinking I had all the time in the world to finish my residency and enjoy the last vestiges of being a bachelor before wanting to get serious and settle down.
Then I moved back here, a little heartsick, and found Grace. No longer the teenager I remembered, but the woman. The doctor. The spitfire. And during this past year, after spending eighty hours a week together…
Yes, I most certainly am a fool.
But what else can I do?
Her fiancé cheated on her. Oliver is living with his Amelia, and her little sister Layla, and they are starting a life together. They’d take Grace in in a second, but I know that’s not what Grace desires. No one wants to be around a happy couple when you’re miserable. All of her other friends are all in serious relationships.
And she’s here.
“You’re serious?” she questions. “I can’t… Carter, how on earth?”
“You’ll stay here,” I tell her again, more certain of it now. “For as long as you need to.”
A tear tracks down her face as her eyes continue to hold mine. “We’ll kill each other.”
I chuckle at that. “Possibly. But isn’t that half the fun?”
“Carter—”
“It’s done. I have three extra bedrooms and it’s not like we’re not used to being around each other. Even when we’re not at work. You’re always around, Grace. It’ll be fine. Here,” I say, walking over to the oven and pulling out the tray of chicken enchiladas I made for my date. “We are going to eat and then I’m going to run over to your place and pack up your stuff.”
I plate the enchiladas, some beans and rice, and set the whole thing in front of her, complete with a napkin and silverware. I pour her a glass of water because she’s right about the alcohol, and then I point to the seat.
She’s eyeing the food like she’s not sure if she wants to eat it or not, though I know for a fact she loves my enchiladas. It’s one of three dishes I make exceptionally well and it’s also Oliver’s favorite, so I make it a lot when they’re around.
“You’re very controlling.”
“Only when the situation fits.”
“I like to fight back.”
I grin. “I know. I like that about you. Keeps the game interesting. Now come eat so I can go get your things.”
“You can’t go to my place,” she tells me, finally crossing the room to sit down. “I know you. If you see Tony, you’ll hurt him, and while I might not care so much about him at the moment, I do care about your hands.”
I hold up said hands in surrender. “I can control myself.”
She raises an eyebrow, but I don’t waver. I can. I won’t actually kill her fiancé. I probably won’t even rough him up too bad because he’s a lawyer and who wants that headache.
“I’ll just threaten him until he pisses his pants.”
“I’ll go over there tomorrow morning after he leaves for work.”
“Tomorrow is Sunday, Grace. He’ll be home and waiting for you.”
“Shit,” she mutters, picking at the food with her fork. “You’re right. He will be and I… I can’t see him, Carter. I can’t. If I see him, I might kill him.” She blinks up at me. “You really wouldn’t mind going there to get some things for me?”
“I’m on it.” Honestly, I’m looking forward to it.
“And you’re truly okay with me staying here? Just until I can figure something else out?”
Her crystalline blue eyes, so guileless, hold mine, her expression impossibly sweet and hopeful. How could anyone ever cheat on her? She is so perfect. But if she’s staying here, in my home, I need to get myself in better control. No more thinking about her beyond work. No more fantasizing. No more pushing the line, the line I love to push.
Can I do that?
It seems I don’t have a choice.
“I’m positive.”
I’m also fucked.
5
All through dinner, I’m forcing down bites when what I really want to do is go gangbusters into Grace’s house and kick some serious ass. I’ve dreamed of this girl. Fantasized until my cock was sore and my mind restless. Unsatisfied.
I hated Tony when I thought he was a good guy.
Now I want to pulverize him for taking for granted what I should have had all along.
I wonder what Oliver would do.
In the year I’ve been her attending, I never allowed my thoughts to get this far. I brushed them off as sexual desire. A basic need never sated by other women. They weren’t smart enough. Beautiful enough. Funny enough. Ball-busting enough. Whatever the fuck you want to throw at them, they weren’t enough. They weren’t her.
But now, Tony is a stupid motherfucker.
And Grace is staying at my place.
And I swore I wouldn’t do this—not even fifteen minutes ago, I swore that.
But I don’t know how to stop now that things are in motion. I have to try though. These thoughts, they’re going to torture me unless I can learn how to control them. Lock it down, man. She’s a no-go on every possible level.
“He went down on her,” Grace says out of nowhere and I freeze mid chew and mid thought and stare at her. Her blue eyes catch mine and I frown. “I know you’re a man and I’m a woman. I know you’re my attending and not my best friend. But you’re all I’ve got right now, and I need to talk about it.”
I swallow, practically choking it down, and manage, “I’m listening.”
“The girl, the one he cheated with, was beautiful. Young.” Grace leans back in her chair, staring out at the cabinets, her food forgotten. “My God, so young! Early twenties at best. She started talking about her hot one-nighter and ever the moron, I listened like a creep. She said he ripped off her dress and then went down on her for so long and did it so well that she came twice. Twice.” She repeats with emphasis. “Do you know the last time he went down on me?” Her head swivels in my direction and I can only shake my head. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with her. “My birthday, two years ago. I had to think about it. Not once since then.”
I have no words for that. How can you be with a woman like Grace and not live inside her pussy?
“She also said that they had sex three times. And he would have spent the night with her had he not needed to work today. Or, well, come home to his fiancée, I suppose. We’ve never done it three times. Never, Carter. Not even when we were new and dating. We never had the, I can’t keep my hands off you, stage.” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip to try and hide its quivering.
I’m tempted to say something like then it must not have been right or you’re better off without him, but that’s not what she needs to hear from me now. Platitudes are bullshit and comfortless. No one wants to hear that when they’re hurting. It’s condescending.