“Okay, fine. You’re just a dumbass that will die friendless and alone.” Luke flicks a finger at my head in emphasis.
I slap away his hand. “Tough love, eh?” I say, but without bitterness.
“Always,” Luke says. Then he smirks again. “So. Does Lucy haveany hot friends?”
I stand up. “Hands off, Luke. Donotscrew around with any of Lucy’s friends. If you do, I swear I’ll kick your ass!”
Luke chuckles and puts his hands up in surrender. “I couldn’t help myself. You are just so easy to jerk around.”
I sigh. “You suck.”
“That’s why you love me, bro.”
Chapter ten
Jake
After I return home from talking to Luke, I drift to the piano keyboard in the corner of my living room, which I’ve been doing almost every night since meeting Lucy. Thankfully, my apartment is reasonably-sized, so the keyboard can fit in my living room along with a comfortable couch and coffee table.
Immediately, I launch into “Your Song” by Elton John. The words hit me even harder than usual after the talk with my mom. I don’t have fancy degrees or a prestigiousresume, but if I had a chance, I’d love to sing Lucy a simple melody. Maybe she’d even understand what I was saying.
As the notes fade, the next song that flows from my fingertips is “The Way You Look Tonight” by Frank Sinatra. My heart snags. Why is it that being around this woman that I barely know feels reminiscent of home?
And then my hands are forming the beginning arpeggios for “On My Own,” fromLes Miserables.
Jesus. Apparently, now I’m playing the unrequited love song track. Despite what Luke said earlier, I still feel like Lucy is an impossible dream out of my reach. She’s going places, and I’m standing still. She’s a fourth-year medical student that will be jetting off soon to her next opportunity, and I’ll be here.
All it took was a couple of days in Lucy’s presence to completely discombobulate me. What will happen once I spend even more time with her? I’m starting to think this staged relationship is a huge mistake.
The next day, I return to the ER for another shift. There’s a steady flow of patients to keep me occupied, which is good, because to my utter disappointment, there’s no sign of Lucy.
After losing myself in work for several hours, my stomach growls. I guess it’s time for a fuel break. “Hey, Alicia!”
The charge nurse lifts her ruddy face from her charting. I pantomime eating, and she nods once and returns her notes. She’stalkative, that one, but I don’t mind her. She’s efficient and fair, and the ER flows well whenever she’s in charge. There are other gas bags that take the reins and want to gossip nonstop. Things tend to back up on those nights.
My thoughts still full of Lucy, I make my way to the break room where there's a kitchenette, a couple of long plastic tables, a microwave, two large fridges, and a sink. Removing my Tupperware from the fridge, I glance at the contents: grilled chicken and broccoli. This meal is my standard during ER shifts—it’s easy to prep, and it's pretty healthy. But right now, even though I need to eat to survive the next few hours, my routine meal looks unappetizing.
As I stick my meal in the microwave, I hear the door open behind me and a chair scuffing against the floor as someone sits down.
Before I even turn around, I know it’s Lucy. I’m not sure if it’s the whiff of lavender or the gentle tread of her walk that gives her away, but my body is reacting to hers in the most primitive of ways.
Slowly pivoting towards her, I feel the hairs on my arms prickle with anticipation.
As Lucy meets my eyes, she lifts a hand and smiles at me tentatively as she sets her sandwich in front of her. “Hey, Jake.”
Whatever my brain has stored as “Lucy” does not even come close to the reality of her. Seeing her again hits me deep in the gut—I’m stunned to find myself reeling from an unnerving combination of desire, protectiveness, and longing. What do I even say to a woman that has adjusted my internal landscape in just two days?
“Sorry I haven’t called you yet. I was going to do that tonight,” I say, managing to get out a couple of coherent sentences.
And then I think…whydidn’tI just contact her? I know part of it was that I didn’t know what to say—or maybe I was worried I’d say too much.
Lucy nods, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. “It’s okay. You aren’t obligated to help me. I mean, you barely know me! You can bow out if you want.”
Goddammit. This gorgeous woman thought that I was standing her up. Hell no. Quickly, the words tumble out. “There’s no way I’d miss out on a fake date with you.”
Lucy laughs. “Well, when you put it that way…”
At her response, I relax—it seems my fuckup was only minor. The microwave beeps, and I open it to remove my unappealing lunch. Before I can control myself, I add, “Is it okay if I join you?”
