This is for the better.
At least that’s what I repeat to myself as I shove the tears off my cheeks determined to remain unfazed.
Or to want to call him back.
Within seconds the phone dings an alert.
Don’t look.
Don’t look.
I look.
And my heart falls to my feet.
Slade: Ivy woke tonight. I was called to the hospital STAT. I accidentally left my phone in my locker so I couldn’t reply to your text. This whole ordeal is over. I’ve been reinstated, but more importantly, she asked to see me. She wanted me to sit with her and hold her hand. That’s where I’ve been. Do you really think I would have canceled for something that wasn’t important?
I reread the text a dozen times as dread and embarrassment filters through every fiber of my being. My hands start to tremble as the gamut of emotions I’ve been through this evening take their toll. The most prominent one being shame.
Here I am, the whole night thinking about me, me, me. Not once did I stop to consider that Slade wasn’t screwing me over. Not a single time did I think that maybe Ivy had woken or there was some kind of emergency he had to tend to.
All I could focus on was the woman’s laugh and him canceling on me.
Talk about being a selfish bitch.
I’m still staring at his text, wondering how exactly I should answer when his next text comes through.
Slade: I love that you’re being the new, strong Blakely, but can’t you cut a guy some slack? I promise to make it up to you.
I should be the one saying that. I should be the one texting frantically to ask for his forgiveness because I’d assumed the worst when I should have given him the benefit of the doubt.
Slade: I can give you proof that I was where I said I was if that’s what you need.
And that statement is like a dagger in my chest. It solidifies my chickenshit train of thought that I’m not ready for a relationship. At least not one with a man as deserving as Slade Henderson. I’m nowhere near where I need to be emotionally to do this. I’m the one who’s almost forty. I’m supposed to be the mature one. And here he is, looking after my needs and assuming I need proof because of what Paul did to me.
I’m the jealous psycho, and he’s the freaking saint.
He deserves so much better than that. Than me.
I struggle with what to text back. With what to say.
An apology would be what he deserves, but how do I tell him I’m sorry for assuming he was with another woman when there isn’t even an us to begin with? How do I explain that I’m obviously not one hundred percent over the hurt Paul caused when I clearly thought I was? How do I say that I’m not exactly sure how I’d go about accepting all of the date nights, special events, and family moments in our lives that he would undoubtedly miss time and again because of someone else’s medical emergency? I’d never want him to be feel like he has to choose between his love for his work and upsetting me or letting me down.
On top of all that, when one of those medical emergencies happened, would I be left wondering if he is in fact telling the truth?
Didn’t I just prove I can’t handle it?
Didn’t I just validate how much I need to work on me so that I don’t bring others down?
I type and delete and type and delete a million things but none of them express any of the jumbled and confused emotions owning me.
So, I don’t type an apology. I don’t even address the issue. Who’s the mature one now?
Not me.
Me: Congratulations on both fronts. I’m glad she is awake.
Slade: When can I make it up to you?
Me: No need to. You deserve so much better than me. Thank you for everything.
Slade: What is that supposed to mean?
Me: Congratulations again.
I turn my phone on do not disturb and toss it on my dresser before falling face down onto my bed, knowing I just pushed the best thing that ever happened to me away because I’m not the best thing that could ever be for him.
And I want to be. God how I want to be.
But my reaction tonight tells me I don’t deserve him or his kindness and huge heart.
I need some time to think.
To sort my own emotions out.
To figure out if I can be the woman he deserves when I full well know he deserves the whole freaking world.
Slade
“You on again tonight, man?”
I look up from the chart I’m reviewing at the nurse’s station and over to John. I’m so exhausted my bones are tired. “This is my second thirty-hour shift in a row,” I murmur before taking a sip of scalding hot coffee. “So, yes. The answer would be yes.”
“Ahh, your body forgot what it was like to be pulling these kinds of hours, didn’t it?”
“You could say that.” I scrub a hand over my face and stifle a yawn.
“What’s up with What’s-Her-Face? Blakely. How was dinner?”
I give a partial chuckle. “We didn’t go. It was the night Ivy came to.”
“Oh shit.”
“You can say that again.”
“Oh shit,” he repeats with a smart-ass grin.
“Funny.”
“You going to make it up to her?” he asks just as a nurse from across the floor calls his name. He takes a step back. “I mean, if you don’t fall asleep during the middle of it.”
I flip him off but shake my head.
That’s the big question, isn’t it? Am I going to make it up to her?
How can I when I can’t get her to answer my calls or texts?
If I knew where she lived, I’d try to
