Chapter Thirty-Three

Trivia Facts of Life

The next morning, I woke up in my underwear, the little spoon to Dax’s big spoon in my bed. He pulled me closer, his lips tickling the outside of my ear.

“Hey.” I flipped over and kissed his lips, slowly, luxuriously, not at all concerned about morning breath, since the two of us had just had sex for the second time—I squinted at my bedside clock—about two-and-a-half hours ago. My breath was his breath.

Something cold and wet nudged my arm, shocking me from the moment. Joanne. She was in my bed, too.

Dax and Joanne had spent the night with me in my room, a place where no one but me had slept in…a very long time.

Though we’d agreed to have sex once and go our separate ways, that hadn’t exactly panned out. After we did it in the shower—reaffirming my decision to build a massive walk-in spa with seating and lots of showerheads—Dax cuddled up with me in my bed, and we watched The Proposal on my tablet until we were kissing and pawing at each other again. And then he fell asleep next to me, and I, despite my best intentions, didn’t kick him out.

He kissed my collarbone. “Let’s stay here all day.”

That comment and the sliver of daylight hitting my eye simultaneously set off an alarm bell in my mind, and the urge to look at my phone overcame me. It was still downstairs. How many messages did I have waiting for me? I sat up. I didn’t live the kind of existence that allowed for much more than eight hours in bed. I wasn’t twenty-seven, like some people.

Dax propped himself up next to me, resting his back against the headboard. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I forced a smile. “Just thinking about work.”

He winced. “Ugh. That’s not a ringing endorsement for my sexual prowess.”

“It is, though.” I kissed his lips quickly. “This is the first time I’ve even thought about work in way too many hours. I don’t think you appreciate how remarkable that fact is.”

He smiled. “So you’re saying we can’t stay in bed all day?”

“We?” I said. “No. You can feel free…to stay in your bed all day.” I didn’t want him sticking around in here, looking through my personal stuff. He already lived in my house; we needed some boundaries. I reached over him, fumbling for my glasses, and then rolled myself across his body and off the bed. I shrugged my arms into a robe.

He rested his hands behind his head, highlighting the tattoos across his broad, muscular chest and on his arms. I learned somewhere around four a.m. that the flower on his wrist was for Muriel, since her last name was Rose. That was why he planned to cover it up.

“I know we said this was a one-time thing,” he started, “but since we’ve already technically broken that rule…maybe we can do this again sometime?”

My responsibility gene kicked in. One…well, two…times was one thing. Any more than that and we’d be forming a pattern. I’d gotten Dax out of my system, which had been my plan going in, and now it was time to get back to reality—i.e., Darius and Rob. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” And I was dead right about that, because just looking at him lying there all stretched out, petting his dog, made me want to shed my robe and join them for the rest of the day.

“You’re right,” he said. “We agreed to one time. Plus, you’ve got your current romantic situation, and I’m not looking for anything complicated…” He raised his bisected eyebrow. He’d gotten the scar at age eight when he was hit in the eye playing a very dangerous game of rock baseball, which was something he told me while he was kneeling in front of me in the shower.

My breath quickened, remembering that little moment. The two of us spent, he rested his head on my thigh while I ran my fingers through his soft, dark hair, the warm water sluicing over us.

The now-familiar warmth coursed through my body at that memory. He was like a roller-coaster ride. Now that I’d had a taste, I kept wanting to get back in line for more every time I got off.

I straightened my shoulders. “I’ve got to get to work.”

Smiling, Dax scratched Joanne’s head. “Good.”

“You should…” I nodded toward the door.

“Of course.” He lifted the covers and rolled out of bed, revealing his toned, tattooed, and fully naked body.

My mouth watered as he scanned the floor, hunting for his clothes.

“They’re in the bathroom.”

“Right.” He grinned, standing and stretching.

Fuck it. Resistance was futile. One more time, and then that’s it. Full stop. End of story. Time to leave the amusement park for good.

I shed my robe.

“What are you doing?”

I shrugged. “I have to take a shower. If anyone is interested in joining me…to save water, then that’s their decision.”

I headed toward the bathroom, and seconds later I heard Dax’s footsteps padding behind me.

…

What the hell is going on with me? I kept asking myself as I drove out to the hospital later that morning.

I had to chalk it up to pure, basic, pathetic lust. I’d never been someone who had to have it. Kelly had always been the one, when we were out together, who’d spot a guy at the bar and immediately announce, “I want him.” For me, it took a little more time, a little more knowledge, and a little more context than a hot body and an engaging scent. Even my thing for Timothy Olyphant was really more of a ha-ha joke. He was very attractive, but it wasn’t like I’d immediately jump his bones if the real deal showed up on my doorstep.

Restraint and decorum had always been my middle names, and they had served me well.

With Dax, for some reason, all that flew out the window. It had to be circumstantial. The fact that he lived in my house plus the musician effect, coupled with the fact that I had one proposal on the table and suspected there might be a second in the offing, all added up to me needing to sow those final oats—one last ride—before I settled down for good.

That had to be it.

And nothing against Dax. He was charming and sweet and talented and serious and sexy, and he knew tons of useless trivia. But he was twenty-seven, barely old enough for me to respectfully screw, and he was a musician who could pick up and leave at any moment. He was not the one.

I banished all the personal drama from my mind as I headed up to Gayle’s hospital room. I’d gotten all the frivolousness out last night, and it was time to be Dr. Responsibility again.

“How are you?” I said, shaking her hand. She was sitting up and had replaced her hospital gown with a silky blue pajama set from home. “You look strong and healthy.” I checked her chart. Everything seemed to be going well so far.

“I got out of bed today.” She spoke slowly, methodically. Her smile looked a bit lopsided.

“I’m very glad to hear that. How’d it go?”

“Made it to the bathroom, but my—” Her right hand hit her left leg.

“Your left side is weak?”

She nodded.

I proceeded to check her out, listening to her heart and lungs, checking her reflexes. After I’d convinced myself she was doing as well as the chart said she was, I wrapped my stethoscope around my neck and pulled the visitor’s chair up next to her bed.

“Has the doctor given you a timeline on rehab?” I asked.

“Nothing…concrete,” she said. “But that’s…okay. I have time.”

I squeezed her hand. “The news broadcast is suffering without you.”

She laughed. “I don’t know about that. They’re trying on some new…for size.” She skipped over the word “anchors.”

I patted her leg. “You have nothing to worry about. They can’t hold a candle to the great Gayle Gale.”

Gayle shook her head. “I hope…they find someone…”

I frowned. “What are you… You’re going back to work, right?”

A hint of a smile played on her lips. “Husband and I discussed it. Time to”—her right hand mimed taking off in flight—“retire.”

“This”—I mimicked her flight action—“are you saying you’re leaving Chicago?”

“Probably. Time for new sights, better weather.”

I’d always admired and looked incredulously at people who could take off and leave like that—move to a new state or country, up and go to a completely foreign environment. My brother did it when he moved to Texas after college. Heck, Kelly’s parents had done it when they moved out to Galena, and now she was picking up her entire career and transplanting it to the other side of the state. I couldn’t imagine doing any of that, even for a little while, even for a weekend. I had too many responsibilities here. What would my mom do without me around? How would my practice survive?

“I’ll miss you,” I told Gayle.

“You’ll forget all about me.”

“Not possible.” Gayle had never displayed anything less than full confidence in my abilities. She was the patient who made me believe I could actually do the job.

She reached for my hand. “What about you…Annie?”

Even when she was in the hospital recovering from a stroke, she still thought to ask me how I was doing. Gayle Gale was a straight-up legend—professionally and personally. “What about me?”

“You need to remember…work isn’t everything.”

“I know that.” I squeezed her hand and set it back on her leg.

“Did you know Jim—husband—and I were high school sweethearts?”

“I didn’t.” Grinning, I leaned back in my chair. “Tell me about it.”

Her eyes moistened. “He stayed in our town. Couldn’t go to college because…family.”

“He had to help them out?”

She nodded, and a tear trickled down her cheek. I grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and wiped it away. “We lost touch. I married once…I married twice…then I saw Jim on Facebook.” Her lips curled into an awkward grin. “I slid into his DMs.”

I cracked up at this sixty-something woman knowing the lingo. But that was Gayle Gale. She stayed on top of everything.

“We’ve only been together five years.”

“And you’ll be together a whole lot more.” I patted her shin.

“Don’t waste time. All…they say is true.” She looked me right in the eye. “I wish I’d had more time with Jim.”

I forced a smile. I remembered my grandfather talking like this when he got older, too, waxing nostalgic about everything. It was one thing for a woman in her sixties to make the broad pronouncement that she was going to retire and go off on some great adventure with her love, but my career was just getting off the ground. I was finally starting to see the fruits of so many years of school and training. For the first time, I was my own boss. This was what I’d worked my entire life for. It was my passion.

When I tried to envision myself at seventy, looking back on my own life, I knew I’d regret not giving my all to my career. That was what mattered to me. It was what I had built. Yes, it had cost me things—possibly even my friendship with Kelly—but it was my baby.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Gayle.” I stood.

“I mean it, Annie,” she said. “Don’t—”

I reached for my phone, pretending to check it. She meant well, but I’d heard it all before. For my entire childhood, people—my parents, teachers, whoever—told me to work hard and be the best. And now, right when I could see the pinnacle of success in front of me, they were telling me to slow down and smell the roses? I didn’t think so. I smiled at her. “I will check back in on you soon. Take care, Gayle.”