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Olga’s grin returns when her attention shifts back to me. “It’s so good to see you, Reagan. You come home more, okay?”
“See, even Olga thinks you don’t come home enough.”
Ignoring my mother’s constant nagging, I focus on Olga. “Good to see you too, Olga. Happy Thanksgiving.” Yeah, some Thanksgiving.
Nodding, Olga smiles one last time before she leaves the kitchen. Mom grabs a bottle of white wine out of the wine cooler and sets it on the kitchen island.
“Where’s Alice?”
“Looking at old family photos.” She retrieves a bottle opener from a drawer, places it on the marble counter next to the bottle, and stares at it.
“Honey…” She glances up at me and her expression softens. “She’s a sweet girl and I’m sure she’s got a bright future ahead of her, but she’s not for you.” She starts picking at the plastic seal with her nails. “Dammit,” she whispers less than a moment later and stops what she’s doing to inspect the damage done to her pale nail polish.
I take the bottle out of her hands and rip the seal off, set about uncorking it. “Relax, Dr. Reynolds. No need to plan a wedding…it’s casual.”
A self-satisfied smile replaces her carefully crafted neutral expression, the same one she wears every time she thinks she has the upper hand. “I see the way you look at her, Reagan. Give me a little credit for knowing my own son’s mind.”
Instinct kicks in, the pressing urge to protect Alice from my parents at all cost. Because I don’t trust them not to tear her apart. Quietly, patiently, with a million tiny cuts. That’s how they do it. The same way they did it to Brian. The same way they’ve been trying to do it to me.
“Then I guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do because I have no feelings for her and she’s got even less for me.”
The minute the words are out of my mouth I recognize them for the absolute bullshit lie that they are. Do I have feelings for Alice? I think so. The thought of her being with anybody else makes me break out in a cold sweat and want to kill someone. So, yeah, I’d say I have feelings for her.
But what do I do about them? My life is so complicated right now I can barely keep my head above water. And Alice…she’s the only good thing in it. I can’t risk losing her by asking for more and then not giving her what she deserves.
And that doesn’t even speak to the fact that she’s told me repeatedly that I’m not her type––whatever the fuck that means. Essentially, we’re both completely unavailable.
“You’ve got your entire life ahead of you. Medical school is hell on relationships and residency even worse. You’ll be in your mid thirties by the time you have a minute to spare. Do you really want to do that to her?”
“You and Dad survived it,” I find myself saying, defending a nonexistent relationship that I know for a fact Alice does not want.
“Barely. And only because I was just as busy.” My mother walks around the counter and brushes the hair off my forehead. “If you care about her at all you’ll put a stop to it now. Don’t string her along. It’s not fair to her.”
Chapter 22
Alice
That was fun. Heavy sarcasm. Only a few hours in the presence of the esteemed Dr. and Dr. Reynolds and the secondhand pressure nearly suffocated me to death. It’s impossible to breathe around those people. And it breaks my heart for Reagan and Brian. I can’t even imagine what it was like for them as children, growing up with all those expectations placed on them.
We drive back to Malibu in complete silence, the tension so thick you need garden shears to cut it. I guess it’s the observer in me that made me stop and listen when I heard Reagan talking with his mother. I should’ve kept walking to the bathroom. I should’ve stayed home and read my shitty book. But I did neither. Instead I came, I saw, I overheard. I have no one other than myself to blame.
After the “I have no feelings for her and she less for me” remark, I walked away. I know conviction when I hear it. There was force behind those words. And I have my pride. I’m not a complete glutton for punishment.
Speaking of Reagan, he has yet to look at me once since leaving Roxbury Drive. He’s definitely not one prone to broody moods. He’s naturally chatty and bordering on almost annoyingly upbeat. Our conversations have always had an easy rhythm, a steady flow. Which is why this behavior is throwing me for a loop. I don’t know how to handle this version of him. I’ve never seen him this shut down before with the exception of the night we saw Brian.
