HARLEY: Sasha let us know that he’s coming back tomorrow, and that he wants to talk to everyone.
WYNTER: What do I do?!
HARLEY: What do you want to do?
WYNTER: I love him but he can’t pull shit like this. Either I’m his person, his partner, or I’m not.
HARLEY: I totally get it. You need to tell him that.
WYNTER: I plan to. He’s been sitting in that loud, germy waiting room for hours. I feel bad, but I also feel like it’s a good punishment.
HARLEY: LOL I mean, don’t let him get super sick—he’s headed our way next and I don’t need any of those germs. The band definitely doesn’t.
WYNTER: Good point. Okay, I’m going to go talk to him. Maybe send him to my apartment because you’re right—if he gets sick, he’ll get all of you sick.
HARLEY: Keep me updated!
WYNTER: I will.
I take a moment to compose myself, wash my hands even though I didn’t use the bathroom. Then I take a deep breath and walk to the back where my purse is locked up. I pull out my key—I only have the one—and stick it in my pocket before walking back out to the waiting room.
Ross is still there, in the same seat, still on his phone.
“You should wait for me at my apartment,” I say, proffering the key. “You don’t need to get sick and then get the band sick.”
He frowns. “You’re not worried about getting sick.”
“My immune system is pretty tough after all my years working in the E.R. I’ll be fine. But you should go. I’ll text you the address.”
He stands up slowly, eyes never leaving mine. “I’m not going anywhere until we leave together.”
The last two hours of the day drag, despite how busy it is.
And Ross sits there until I’ve finally got my jacket on and my keys in my hand.
“How did you get here?” I ask when the only cars in the lot belong to me and the two remaining doctors.
“Uber.”
“That’s a long haul from the airport.”
“You’re worth it.”
“Come on.”
We get into my car without saying anything and the ride to my apartment is quiet too.
“So, how mad are you?” he asks as he walks into my apartment.
”Honestly, I’m more frustrated than mad.” I kick off my shoes and sink onto the love seat. “Why would you just disappear like that? I get that you were pissed at Tommy and the band. I understand that you had a knee-jerk reaction to upsetting news…but why would you take it out on me?”
He sighs and sits beside me. “It wasn’t taking it out on you so much as needing space so I could clear my head.”
“And it was too much to ask for you to send me a quick text saying that? I mean, that’s all I needed. So I would know you’re okay. That we’re okay.” I pause. “Unless we’re not.”
“Well, from my end, we’re fine, but you have every right to tell me to fuck off.”
“That’s not how love works,” I say, turning my head so I can fully look at him.
