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But instead of being happy for her, for the fact that she’s starting a family with some lucky bastard, all I feel is numb and drained. And scared.
Moving back home, I knew I’d bump into Marissa sooner or later. My greatest fear was that she’d be indifferent. But it’s worse. Marissa hates me. How can I live knowing I’m nothing more to her than a bad memory?
I was an idiot when I was younger. Still am.
I should have been more professional. I should have focused on the exam, instead of looking at her face, trying to guess what she was thinking while doing my best to keep my hands from shaking.
I push my emotions aside and head toward the personnel lounge. My wobbly steps take me to the door just as the elevator pings behind me. It’s empty. On a whim, I change my mind and get in, heading for the safety of my office.
I can’t face human interactions. Not yet.
I need a minute.
In my office, I sit in my chair and put my head in my hands. My heart is still racing. I need to lie down, and since there’s no couch, I use the floor.
The tiles are cool against my back, helping the world to stop swaying. I spread my arms and legs to get more grounded.
That’s how Amada finds me some time—I couldn’t tell how much—later.
“Dr. Raikes,” she gasps as she walks toward me.
“Hi, Dr. Gonzales.” I try to smile, but it’s a feeble attempt.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
Interesting question. Am I okay? “I’m not sure,” I say out loud.
Amada crouches next to me. “What happened?”
“I just had to give a physical exam to my high school sweetheart.”
My mentee raises an eyebrow. “Okay, we need coffee for this conversation.”
Amada stands up and brews a fresh pot on my machine, offering me a paper cup. I pull up from the floor and lean my back against the desk, taking the cup.
“Did she break your heart all those years ago?” Amada asks.
“Worse.” I take a sip of coffee. “I broke hers and mine at the same time.”
“Why?”
“Because I loved her too much.”
“That seems like a weird reason.”
“Yep, I contest my decision-making process to this day.”
“You still love her?”
I look at Amada. “How can you love a person you don’t know? It’s been sixteen years.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Amada dismisses my affirmation. “Did your heart stop when you saw her?”
“Sort of.”
“Were your palms sweaty, your hands shaking?”
Check and check.
