Champagne and Lemon Drops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance (13 page)

"What if this is the REAL
Oz now?" he pointed to his chest. He looked to the group. "Have any
of you thought of that? That this might be the
real
me?"

"No," she whispered. She shook her head and
leaned away. This wasn't the real Oz. Not even close. Unable to
stop shaking her head, she barely felt the next blow.

"I can't give you what you need, Beth." Oz's
voice grew weak and he swayed, his eyes closed. "You need to move
on. We're over."

The room spun, the light fading in and out
as she turned and fled, her heart on fire.

***

Ten minutes later, Beth was sobbing into
Nash's crisp Polo shirt. She'd fled on foot, his place being only a
couple of blocks away. He'd greeted her at the door and had
wordlessly drawn her into the safety of his condo as well as his
arms. He asked nothing as he let her cry it out until she could
speak.

"He doesn't want me. He's turned into
a-a-a..." she hiccupped, her chest aching like something inside had
torn free. "He told me to move on. It-it's over!"

"Shh, shh." Nash rocked her gently, his
cotton shirt fresh against her skin.

When her crying subsided, he gently pulled
her off his leather couch. "Come." He led her past the kitchen
island that separated the living room from his immaculate kitchen.
Despite being friends, it was the first time she'd been in his
condo. She knew where it was, of course. Everyone knew where
everyone was in a small town such as Blueberry Springs. And while
she'd expected his place to be well lovely and neat, she hadn't
been prepared for how modern and put together it truly was. He'd
obviously done more than hung a few pictures when he moved in. The
kitchen looked like he'd gutted it and replaced it with something
from one of Katie's design magazines.

"I take it you don't remodel locally," she
joked, trying to crack a smile as she wiped her nose on a tissue.
She gestured to the marble counter tops, and track lights aimed at
sculptures and smooth pieces of pottery. She'd never met anyone
with art in their kitchen that couldn't be held in place with a
magnet.

Nash smiled. "I have specific tastes. Do you
like it?"

"It's very sleek."

"Modern."

"Katie would go gaga for this place." She
ran her fingers lightly over the solid wood cupboard doors, testing
a small glass knob. "Why would you spend money redoing a condo you
plan on leaving in a few years?" Nash didn't seem like the type to
waste tens of thousands of dollars redoing a kitchen when he'd only
get a partial return from the condo's increased resale value.

"Why live somewhere that isn't your own
personal haven?" He opened a cupboard and, to Beth's surprise, fog
billowed out as he pulled out a small tub of ice cream. "Why not
surround yourself with things that make you content? After all,
there's no place like home."

Beth rubbed her eyelids which felt as though
they had swollen to four times their normal size. He had a point.
There was nothing like having a cozy, comforting cave to curl up
in. Something she was missing more and more with each night she
spent in the open living room at Katie's. She needed a home. And
now it seemed like there was no reasonable way to delude herself
into waiting any longer.

They were officially broken up. As official
as the ring burning a hole in her pocket.

She blinked back tears as Nash held up the
small container. "Nothing but the best. It's organic,
old-fashioned, homemade ice cream from this great little place in
Dakota. Very expensive."

"Obviously doctors earn way too much. Ice
cream is ice cream." In the mood she was in, she could sit down and
eat the whole thing. Three times over.

"It's very rich. You couldn't handle eating
more than a few spoonfuls. I have them double the flavoring and
it's pure cream, straight from the cow. Well, a little
pasteurization first. There are no guarantees in life, but we can
always improve our odds a little."

He peeled off the lid, pulled out a spoon
that looked like it was made of blue glass, and fed Beth a
nibble.

"Oh. My. God." She closed her eyes, letting
the rich chocolate delight all 10,000 of her taste buds. "I think
my taste buds are having an orgy!"

Nash laughed and pulled out a second spoon
and two tiny bowls. She sat attentively at the island, waiting for
more. She would seriously follow Nash to the ends of the earth for
more of this stuff. There was a month's worth of healing in each
spoonful. She needed more. A lot more. And she needed it now.

"Come. Let's feed your soul." He led her
back to the living room, tucked them shoulder-to-shoulder under a
cashmere throw, and flipped to a cheesy comedy on his large TV. She
never wanted to leave the sanctuary of his condo. Everything
matched. Everything was deliberately chosen. It was like a show
home, only absent of salesmen, and she could put her feet up on the
couch. And yet, it all somehow still felt like a home. Nash's home.
His little haven where he was sheltering her from the storm.

A few hours later, and feeling a bit better
about life, Beth slipped into her sandals, knowing it was time to
go, but for some reason wanting to stay.

Nash ran a hand through his hair and asked,
"So, are you, uh, seeing other men?"

Beth shrugged and heaved a huge sigh. "I
guess. Eventually."

Her chest ached at the thought of kissing
someone who wasn't Oz. Letting someone else into her heart. Into
her bed. The very idea felt as wrong as Cheez Whiz and peanut
butter smeared together on a piece of celery.

She gave Nash a big hug. "Thanks for putting
me back together."

He held her close. "Is it okay?" He tilted
her head back with a gentle finger placed under her chin. "If I do
this?" He softly kissed her lips. "If it's too soon," he said,
watching her with calm blue eyes, "I can wait."

She didn't know what it
was. All she knew was her head was screaming
run
while her legs were calmly
replying
leave a
message
.

***

Beth turned from her patients, put a mixed
CD in the hospital stereo, and hit shuffle. "Okay everyone, partner
up! Let's get this dance show on the road!"

She glanced at the doorway to the common
room as she often found herself doing since Nash's kiss last week.
For whatever reason, she kept expecting him to appear in the
doorway even though they hadn't spoken since. She'd spent the week
curled up with her wounded heart on Katie's stupid pullout bed and
coming out only for work. Which meant she had to get out of bed a
lot more often than she wanted to.

Her breath wedged somewhere deep in her
chest as the first notes of "A Kiss to Build a Dream On" floated
from the speakers. Oz used to put their song on repeat and they
would dance around and around the living room until their feet grew
tired. Happy and blissful. Before he felt lost. Before he told her
to move on. Before. Before. Before.

Despite the bravado, men were actually
scared little wimps inside.

She ignored the stabbing in her heart and
turned to face the group. A few residents had begun shuffling
around in their slippered feet, their geriatric version of dancing.
The outnumbered men were already being coaxed from their chairs,
creaking, moaning and groaning. To Gran's disapproval, a pleased
looking Reggie was already swaying to the rhythm with Lauretta.

Beth turned to the closest woman. "Mable,
would you care to da—" Her jaw dropped, her words forgotten as a
familiar form filled the common room's doorway.

It worked. He was here. He wanted more than
he'd admitted at the intervention. He wanted her back in his life.
And she didn't care that her ring was buried in a pile of crumpled
tissues beside the pullout bed, her answer was YES!

Oz stood clutching a rose. His scruffy hair
had been washed and cut by someone who obviously didn't know what
they were doing and an endearing amount of razor burn speckled his
neck. His mom knew him better than she did. Thank God.

She smiled, her shoulders relaxing. Happily
ever after.

She was barely able to resist the urge to
tear across the room and launch herself into his strong arms and
never, ever let go.

The rectangular doorway swayed. Beth blinked
and looked again.

Disappointment and anger
fell across her and she stomped across the room. "Oz," she hissed,
"are you
drunk
?"
What was he thinking? She would get put on probation for letting
him dance with her patients while intoxicated. She had to get him
out of here.

His smile faltered and he looked momentarily
lost before stating, "Nope. I..." He lowered his voice to a whisper
when it became obvious that everyone had stopped dancing, other
than Elsie,—but she never stopped—and was listening eagerly. "I
know what I want."

He proudly held his arms out at his sides, a
confident grin gracing his face.

"What is it?" she asked. She braced herself
in case he stabbed another needle in his Beth voodoo doll and his
next sentence didn't include her.

"Dancing. Katie told me I needed
exercise."

"What?" She placed her hands on her hips and
tried not to cry. "This isn't the gym, Oz. I can't let you dance.
You're drunk."

"What? No, here..." He briefly grasped her
upper arms and leveled his best, honest look. "You're getting it
wrong. I can save you."

Her voice thickened. "You need saving, not
me." Other than from a broken heart, of course, because she was
fairly certain this wasn't going to end well for her heart. Again.
Although, come to think of it, she wasn't sure how much more of it
there was for him to smash. "I need a sober you, Oz. You have to
stop destroying yourself. You're a good man. People will still love
you if you sell the business."

His tired eyes roamed her face. Slowly he
said, "This is my first step."

"Your first step to what, Oz?" Hope lifted
the pain in her chest and she tried not to act too eager in case
she scared him away. She had to play it cool.

He spread his arms out wide and his brow
furrowed. "I'm not sure. But you were right. I wasn't doing
anything. Nothing real or meaningful. I was wallowing because it's
hard. I need to explore more. I need to dance and see where my feet
take me."

She wanted to pummel his chest and scream at
him, but instead she quietly said, "You can't dance today. Maybe
next week."

"My father told me to smarten up and that I
was losing out. I am here. To dance."

Beth closed her eyes and
said slowly, "We can't get back together unless it is
your
idea, Oz. If that's
what you're saying." She met his eyes which were filled with panic.
Shit. Her voice grew thick. "You have to make the decision from
your heart. It has to be for the right reasons. It has to be what
you want." She blinked back tears, knowing if she played her cards
right she could go home with him tonight.
Home
. But she also knew she had to
let him do it on his terms if they ever wanted to truly make
it.

He clipped the rose between his teeth and
whirled around, storming across the room. Beth stepped after him.
Oh, God. What if he left? What if she just blew off her only
chance?

Oz whisked Gran out of her chair before Beth
could raise a protest and Gran let out a delighted, "Oooo!" She
beamed at Oz and patted his shoulder affectionately as he began to
dance her around the room.

"What makes me the lucky gal?" she
asked.

Beth hurried after the fast dancing couple.
"Oz! Stop. You can't. Not today."

"We're fine," he snapped over his shoulder
as he swiftly dipped Gran.

"Oh, would you look at that move!" Elsie
exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Beth squealed and covered her eyes as Oz
snatched his dance partner back upright. "She's elderly! You can't
do that! She'll break something."

"Who are you calling
elderly?" Gran waved her off, laughing. "Quit your fussing. We're
fine. Nobody's danced me around like this in quite some time! And I
must say I
like
it."

Beth paused. She was raised to listen and
respect her gran and she trusted her, but this kind of spirited
activity was most definitely not in any recreation plan her doctor
would sign off on. Something bad was going to happen. And it would
be her fault. She'd lose her job and her outreach. She'd have
nothing. She grabbed Oz's shoulder. "Oz, really. Not today."

"Listen to your beautiful grandmother and
quit fussing." He beamed at Gran and picked up the pace to dance
them across the room, leaving Beth behind.

"Gran? You have to stop.
He's
drunk
." Beth
ran her hands through her hair and visually checked up on her other
patients. Everyone was smiling, watching Oz spin his partner around
with confidence and grace.

"It's lovely watching him move," Lauretta
said, her hands clasped over her chest. She remembered when her
patients watched her and Oz dance like that, and how lucky she felt
to be his chosen one. "Such ability."

Oz mumbled "Shit!" and a crack ruptured
through K.D. Lang's deep crooning.

Beth whirled to check on the couple. Gran
lay awkwardly on her back: evidence of a deep dip gone terribly
wrong.

Beth rushed to her side. "Gran! Oh my God,
Gran! Are you okay?" She snapped her head up to look at Oz. "Get
the hell out of here you... you... GET OUT!" She blinked back tears
and took Gran's hand.

Oz backed up a step, his eyes glued to Gran.
Face pale, he turned and fled.

"Gran, can you move? Oh, God. Call a doctor.
Someone, call a doctor."