Denying the burning sensation in my heart, I marched to the backyard, dropping the basket in the grass by the clothes line, the late afternoon rays glinting off my diamond ring.
I stared down at it, feeling hollow, broken, lost.
I wanted so badly to feel Ben’s arms slide around me, for him to nuzzle my ear, making me feel safe, happy, and content.
Now I was none of those things. Scattered into a million broken pieces, and no matter how much crazy glue there was, I’d never be whole again.
I was non-fixable.
Chapter 10
Emery
“Oh girl, my feet are screaming for a massage.” Marcie plopped back in a chair, putting her feet up on another one. The staff lounge was empty except for the two of us. “Just need some young, hot man giving me a foot massage.” She wiggled, humming like she was picturing this fantasy. “With a glass of wine and a come-to-Jesus kind of orgasm that puts me right to sleep.”
“Sounds good.” I took a sip of my coffee, hoping the caffeine would kick in soon. I hadn’t slept well last night, tossing and turning, my mind not letting me rest. Because he kept popping into my head every time I dozed off, making me hot, sticky, and agitated. The feeling seemed to follow me into my day.
Marcie shot me a look, her attention dropping to the ring on my hand. They all knew I was widowed, but not much else.
“Looks as if you might need the same.”
The idea of a hot young man giving me an orgasm shifted me in my chair, causing me to down more caffeine because now he wasn’t faceless.
“How long have you been wearin’ that?” She nodded at my wedding ring. “After his death?”
My attention went to the diamond, flicking at the band. “Three years.” I cleared my throat, feeling my own judgment and defense rising.
Marcie nodded her head. “Do you want my advice?”
“Feels as if I’m going to get it anyway.”
“It’s as if you already know me so well.” She snorted, sitting up and turning toward me at the table. “You know I was married once.” She flipped her hand. “Many moons ago. He cheated on me from the start.”
“It’s sounding very close to my sister’s story.”
“Sadly, it’s too many women’s stories.” Marcie tucked back her naturally kinky hair, which was falling from the clip. “Each time he left, I continued to wear his ring, giving him chance after chance. Thinking I was some self-sacrificing saint for putting up with his shit.”
“Now, you’re just plagiarizing my sister’s story.”
“You know why you, your sister, me, and so many others keep wearing our ring, even though we know it’s been over for a long time?” It was a rhetorical question, so I stayed quiet. “It isn’t self-sacrificing. It’s fear. The ring, good and bad, symbolizes security. Safety. Commitment. That you are off the market. Someone has you. Loves you. And when we lose that, we continue wearing it as a symbol, for all the wrong reasons. To protect ourselves from commitment, from love. We are still off the market. Someone still has us because we are too afraid to try again.”
I stared blankly at the table, her speech causing tears to spring behind my lids.
“I’m not telling you when you should be ready, though I think there is a very cute doctor here who hopes you are. I’m just saying don’t waste so much time in the past, hiding from the future. I wish I didn’t let Darrell rob me of so much of my life.” She stood up, straightening out her purple scrubs. “I know our situations are different. Your husband died, but at the end of the day, it’s up to us how much we let our own fears dictate the rest of our lives.” She picked up her cell, walking to the door. “Food for thought. Okay, back to sucking out saliva, scraping plague, and drillin’ in peoples’ mouths. Oh goody.” She sighed, going out the door.
Marcie left the staff room in a silent loudness, the buzz from the fluorescent lights humming in my ears sounding like mosquitos, the beat of my heart strumming in cadence as the ring on my finger screamed out every insecurity and truth she uttered.
Taking it off meant I was ready to move on. I somehow accepted Ben’s death, and I was okay without him. It felt wrong to be okay. To want to move on… to fall in love with another.
He was supposed to be it. The love of my life. Life was ripped from me, and the question was, did I acknowledge the terror and step forward into the future? Or stay in the shadows and memories of the past, where it was safe?
“Emery.” My name jarred me to the entrance. Dr. Ramirez walked in, a warm smile taking over his face, lighting up his eyes.
“Dr. Ramirez.” I went to my feet, feeling my stomach tie up.
“Daniel, please.” He spoke softly.
I nodded, swiping up my coffee and snack wrapper, throwing them in the bin, pointing for the exit.
“Oh, you don’t have to leave.” A slight disappointment hinted in his timbre, his eyes watching me.
“Break time’s over. Last patient for the day.” I shrugged, my hand twisting my ring around my finger, calling his attention to it.
His mouth pressed together, staring at my ring.
“Right.” His chin dipped slightly, his shoulders going down. “Of course. Well, if I don’t see you, have a good night.”
“You too,” I replied, backing out the door.
I stopped a few yards down the hall, my hand pressing against my stomach.
Marcie was right. I was using my ring to keep me safe. To keep myself protected from life. From experiencing pain and loss again.
But the thought of Daniel asking me out?
There were no butterflies or jitters.
Only fear.
“Addy, I got us pizza!” I called out, stepping in the front door and kicking off my shoes. I brought home a large margarita pizza, thinking the leftovers could be our lunch tomorrow. Pizza was becoming too much of a staple in this house. I really needed to cook occasionally.
The giggly, girly voice she never used around me unless it was about a boy resounded from the kitchen. A prickle shot down my spine, intuition turning my lungs into a butterfly cage.
Swallowing, I strode across the cozy living room, coming into the kitchen, where my eyes landed on a jean-clad ass bending far over into the dishwasher. Holy shit, his ass was round and taut. Something you’d want naked so you could fully appreciate it. Worship it. Mason’s shirt hitched up, showing off the lower portion of his broad, muscular back, looking as though he worked out every day. For a guy who didn’t play football anymore, he sure appeared as if he did.
Realizing I was standing there ogling him with my mouth open, I jerked myself away, clearing my throat.
“Hey, Aunt Emery.” Addy sat on the counter near him, her legs swinging. “Mason stopped by to look at the dishwasher.”
“I can see that.” Did my voice sound rough? Clearing it, I kept my eyes off him as I moved around, setting the pizza on the counter.
Mason sat back, wiping a line of sweat off his forehead with his arm, his attention turning to me. His t-shirt was slightly soaked in places, sticking to his chiseled abs.
I found myself staring again. It was the first time I had seen him without a hat. His soft, black hair was rumpled in an alarming sexy way, like he had just climbed out of bed and had not been alone. It was long enough you wanted to rake your fingers through it.