“Uh, yeah, you can say that again. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that fast in my life.”
“I would ask if date three was better but since you called me from the bathroom, I’m gonna say no.”
“Yeah, no,” I reply and begin telling them all about Blake. When I’m done, both of their mouths are hanging open, and they’re silent.
“Je-sus,” Izzy draws out before finishing off her glass of wine.
“I honestly have no words,” Carly says, staring dumbly at the table, and I nod. That was about how I felt last night after I snuck out of the restaurant and came home. It was like a nightmare, and I started to question if it really happened.
“Who even does shit like that on a date and where the hell did you find these guys? I mean, how short do you have to be on brain cells to call a woman a breeding machine? Just give me their names and I’ll make their lives a living hell, I swear to god,” Izzy rants, and I just shake my head, knowing she needs to get it out of her system.
“Honestly, it doesn’t matter now. I need to decide if I’m gonna play Mr. Klein’s game or tell him to go screw himself.”
“Did you already write the article?” Carly asks, and I nod.
“Yeah, but I don’t know if I’m gonna send it in.”
“Let me see it.”
I grab my computer and open it up, the Word document still pulled up on the screen as I slide it over to her. She leans in closer to the screen and starts reading.
“And you,” Izzy says, pointing at me as she narrows her eyes. “What the hell were you thinking going out with three fucking strangers without telling anyone? What if one of them had cut you up and put you in their freezer? How would we have known?”
I know she’s got a point but I just wanted to get the whole damn thing over with, and I knew if I talked to them about it, I would be even more negative on my dates.
“I was careful,” I tell her. I never let any of them know where I lived and always met them somewhere. They don’t even have my phone number. The only way they can contact me is through the dating website.
“Um… no, you were the exact opposite of careful. You didn’t tell either of us about this. You could have disappeared without a trace and we would have had no way of knowing where to start looking for you.”
“Does it matter now, Iz? It’s done and over with. Look. Here I am, safe and sound, in one piece.”
“You got lucky,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest for a second before uncrossing them and pouring herself some more wine.
“I really like it, Ali,” Carly says, pushing the computer away, and I smile. Whenever someone tells me they like what I wrote, I can’t help but grin. “But you’re right. Mr. Klein is not gonna be happy with it.”
“I’m trying to decide if I even care anymore,” I say as I bring my glass to my lips.
“I hear you, Hon, but what the hell are you gonna do if you leave the paper?”
“And that right there is why I haven’t sent it in yet.”
She sighs and looks back to the computer for a second. “You know what, you’ll find something. And if you quit or he fires you, you’ll get scooped up quick.”
I set my glass down and spin the stem between my fingers, focusing on the reflection of the glass on the table. “You really think I should do this?”
“Do you want to write something else?” she asks, arching a brow, and I know she already knows the answer to that. Even if I tried, I don’t think I could. I’ve never lied to my readers, and I’m not going to start now.
“No.”
“Then what other choice do you have?”
Taking a deep breath, I push the glass away and pull my computer toward me. With shaky hands, I pull up my email and quickly send the article off to my boss. After I push send, I grab my glass of wine again and drain it.
“I’m proud of you, Ali,” Carly says, and I smile at her. “It’s disgusting that he even suggested this for the two of you. Even at her best, Chelsea isn’t half the writer that you are, and she shouldn’t even be in the running for the job.”
“Yeah, but you know why she is, right?” I ask, making a motion with my hand and mouth that gets the message across. Carly nods, and they both start laughing.
“Man, if I realized that was all it took, I would have become a partner years ago,” Izzy says, referring to her job as a paralegal at a law office downtown, and we all laugh again.
“Maybe I should just quit,” I say, feeling a little bolder than I did moments ago.
“And do what?” Izzy asks.
“I don’t know what I want to do, I just know that I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“If it’s meant to be,” Carly says, quoting the article I just sent in, and I smile as I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Chapter Four
Storm
I fucking hate hospitals.
My boots squeak on the linoleum floor as I stare down the hallway and make my way to her room, doing my best to push back the deluge of memories frantically trying to take over my mind. After that night, I swore I would never be back here, but for her, I would do just about anything. Everything about this place haunts me, from the sound of monitors beeping and loved ones crying to the smell of antiseptic. Each little thing like a demon hiding in the shadows, laying in wait to reach out and pull me back into that night and everything I lost.
The memories start to overwhelm me, and I have to stop, leaning back against the wall, and closing my eyes as I try to pull air into my body. Flashes of images, like a horror movie, roll through my brain, and I lean over, squeezing my eyes shut tighter like that might make them stop as I fist my hands on my knees.
“Sir, are you okay?” someone asks, and I snap back up into a standing position. The only thing worse than losing my shit is someone watching me do it. The woman in blue scrubs standing behind the nurses’ station offers me a reassuring smile, and I clear my throat.
“Can you tell me which room Emma West is in?” I ask, and she nods, looking down at her computer.
“Are you family?”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation.
She looks up and smiles at me, her gaze trailing down my body. “Room 116.”
“Thanks.”
The sign at the end of the hallway instructs me to go left, and I walk off without another word, ready to see Emma and the babies so I can get the fuck out of here. I love that girl but I don’t want to spend more time than I have to in this place. Once I find her room, I pause, taking a deep breath to push all my shit back down before I walk in there to see her. Emma’s got eyes like a hawk, and if I go in there even a little bit upset, she’ll fucking know it.
When I feel in control, I push the door open and close it quietly behind me. Emma’s in the bed with a little bundle in each arm, and when I walk in, she looks up and grins at me. Nix is passed out in the chair next to her bed, his arms crossed over his chest, and his legs kicked out in front of him. I grimace at the awkward angle his neck is bent in, glad that I’m not him. That’s gonna be one hell of a headache when he wakes up.
“Hey, stranger,” Emma whispers and beams at me, happiness just rolling off of her in waves. My chest aches as I remember a time in my life when I knew what it was like to be that happy but I smile through it as I shove those feelings back down. I’m so used to this routine. Feel and shove it back down again and again. Over and over until maybe one day, it won’t hurt so fucking bad just to be alive.