The Mind (The Reluctant Romantics #1.5) (14 page)

Anything for her, always for her...my something to look forward to.

“Merry Christmas, Jennifer!”

I threw the bags filled with presents inside our apartment then started wrapping as fast as I could. Grant was due back from work any minute and I didn’t want him to see what I’d gotten him. We had set a date to marry on New Year’s Eve and our apartment was flooded with packed boxes. Jennifer was moving to California after our graduation ceremony next month, but I couldn’t justify moving my husband in with us. We had found a rental home close to ground zero of our ranch home. The foundation had already been poured and most of the framing was done. I was beside myself with my excitement. Our wedding would be a small intimate ceremony at my parents’ house. I’d never wanted a huge wedding and Grant seemed to only want the title of husband. I’d spent a majority of the day finalizing all the details with my mother that was just as excited and spent way too much money on pre-wedding pampering. I was anxious to share the details with Grant, but more so about the bow covered negligee I had purchased today. Being with Grant had released the vixen in me. Not only that, the woman I’d sworn I’d be someday. I’d never felt more feminine, more beautiful, or more cherished. I couldn’t wait to wear the dress I’d dreaded picking out for him.

I had also gotten a ton of food and booze for a private little Christmas Eve feast. Not only did I have a wedding to look forward to, but I had also earned the interview with Dr. McGuire.

“Merry Christmas, you happy bitch,” Jennifer said, rolling her eyes when I cued up the Christmas tunes.

“I know. It’s totally annoying, isn’t it?” I said, taping my first box throwing it to the side to start the next.

“Wow am I glad I let that guy in!” she noted as I sang along to the Drifters’
“
White Christmas”.

“I know. I am, too. That’s why I got you this.” I threw the gift at her, smacking her in the head on accident and wincing as she gave me the evil eye.

“Sorry!”

She hastily opened the tiny box and smiled.

“You really are doing this?” She took the bridesmaid necklace from the box and put it around her neck.

“Four months is crazy, I know, but I can’t live without him.”

“He is your match, Rose. I’ve been your best friend for years and you have never been this happy, even with what’s his face.”

“Don’t even say it,” I warned. “That wasn’t even love.”

My phone rang and I saw the picture of Grant and me in front of our tree the day the foundation was poured.

“Hi, my love. Are you on your way?”

“Yes, and I’m about to lose it thinking about what you did to me last night.” I giggled like an idiot as Jennifer rolled her eyes and headed to the kitchen, mumbling about something to do with her being excited about privacy. I ignored her to tell my fiancé about the night I had planned for us.

“I got eggnog, champagne, and shrimp. Enough for us both to eat.”

“A boat full?” he teased.

“Shut up and hurry up. I love you.”

“I love you, baby. See you in a minute.”

“One week left, Mr. Foster. You sure you don’t want to back out?”

“One week and forever, baby. I promise.”

I waited for Grant for two hours in my negligee-clad body, surrounded by candles burning before the sinking feeling took over. I started calling hospitals, starting with the ones I knew were on his route. It only took two calls to find him.

The doctor in me listened to Grant’s attending objectively. He was pronounced dead at the scene. I knew that though the doctor didn’t say it. I was certain by the extent of his injuries that he hadn’t felt much or anything at all. He was on his way to me and the idea that he might not make it there had probably never crossed his mind. He’d had no time to process. It was too sudden. I knew that. And it was the only thing holding me together as Jennifer sobbed by my side.

It had been a freak accident.

That was what they said to me.

A freak accident had stolen my whole life from me.

I hoped I was pregnant.

That was my first clear thought and I couldn’t even justify how unreasonable it was. I sat on the toilet in my parents’ bathroom hours after losing Grant, hoping that we had somehow fucked up our plans to wait.

I wanted a piece of him to live and grow inside me, a piece of us. I prayed then for every possible imaginable failure in birth control. Scenarios of being a mother raced through my mind as I thought of what he or she would look like. I hoped it was a boy and had Grant’s beautiful locks. I would never cut his hair. He would be a replica of his father. I would decorate his room in planes and we would talk about him every day. We would live in our ranch home and he would grow up tall and strong like his dad, with a heart just as golden. It was the first time I’d actually imagined a child with him. I’d been so sure I had time to daydream about that once we were married and I’d met my career goals.

We would have kids as soon as I finished my surgical program. We’d decided that together. Well, actually, Grant had wanted them sooner. We’d even fought about it once, but he relented so easily when I insisted we wait a little longer.
Everything
we’d decided revolved around
my
life’s plans. Grant just wanted to give me everything I wanted, and now
all
I wanted was him and a different reality.

For the first time in my life, I no longer wanted to be a surgeon because a surgeon was selfish.

I stared at the urine-covered stick hiding in my parents’ bathroom and prayed like I’d never prayed in my life for that word to appear...and it did with a big fat fucking NOT in front of it. I grabbed a hand towel and gripped it between my teeth and bit down, screaming in agony, as if being pregnant with his child would save me in any way from the hurt that was stretching my chest so painfully. And suddenly breathing was a chore.

Breathing is an involuntary movement. You learn that in basic science in grade school. I say that fact turned false for me the minute I lost him. I was no longer breathing without doing it for myself. I had no help. It was up to me.

As I threw the useless stick of devastation away, I had a new and sudden list of the things I didn’t care about: I didn’t care that I was still young and had a promising career ahead of me. I no longer cared that I had a long list of people that loved me and would still be there for me through thick or thin. I no longer cared for the interview I’d worked my whole life for. I no longer cared about any of it. None of it brought me any happiness. None of it could replace or even come close to what I’d just lost.

“If you would have only left
one
minute sooner,” I whispered to him. “Why couldn’t you have just left sooner?”

Timing, that’s the last thing I had thought about before I stood, body and mind giving out in perfect unison.

****

I regained consciousness on the floor sometime later as my father knocked softly on the door, my face planted on the carpet and my body twisted unnaturally. I’d never fainted before and was still unsure of my faculties when he spoke.

“Rose, do you need anything?” I turned on my back to stare at the ceiling and cursed the carpeted bathroom for saving me. I wanted to feel physical pain in the worst way at that moment, to blanket the unbearable pain in my chest as the realization hit me again.

Grant’s dead.

My throat was dry and I could barely get the words out. “Daddy...I’m...okay...Daddy.”

“Come out when you’re ready.” I sensed his hesitation at the door before he walked away and swallowed hard at his words because I knew that I wouldn’t ever be...ready. I didn’t want to see my family stare at me for my reaction to what just happened and cater to my tears because they would be endless. I gasped as my mind came more into focus and his face flashed across it, along with his words after our first kiss.

“Did you feel that?”

Of course I had felt it. It was lightning. We were a sudden anomaly in a sea of lost people. We’d found it right then. The thing that everyone wants. The thing that everyone should experience in their lifetime. It was real. The romantic in me believed him in an instant. It was if he had awakened her with his conviction, and I’d initially ignored her.

Why couldn’t I have acknowledged more quickly that I was right there with him in every moment? Why did I have to try so hard to deny what was instantly between us? The recognition? The connection? I was such a bitch to him at first, so eager to prove him wrong. I lost a month of reveling in our love by denying it was possible. A month, a second, a minute, a breath, I had no idea how precious our time was.

He’s gone.

No, he’s
dead
. Gone would indicate that he would be back again one day. And that fact was the razor blade that cut endlessly through my aching soul again and again as I pulled in another breath and held it.

I felt a colossal lump in my throat as my tears streamed down my face. Still staring up at the ceiling, I ignored the sting on my cheeks. I had no will to move from that spot. I was comfortable, warm, and had absolutely no intention of leaving. There was nothing outside that door that I wanted. Behind it represented the future, and I was more than happy to pretend it didn’t exist.

I was a widow. God, I didn’t even have to time to earn that title. Oh and God, where were you and why didn’t you save him!

I gripped the carpet in my hands, pulling at it as the burn overtook me and I lost myself again to my grief, my sobs uncontrollable. I didn’t want to be there at my parents’ house. I didn’t want them to hear me cry. I felt like I needed to scream over and over but I didn’t because I knew what it would do to my parents, to my brother and sister. No, I couldn’t even grieve the way my soul was begging me to.

Grief, what a shitty word for what this feels like. They should rename it.

Agony wasn’t even a decent enough word.

Hell couldn’t even touch this.

And still the word death fit perfectly.

“You took me with you,” I whispered to him again. “I can’t do this, Grant. I can’t.”

As a child, I had conjured an amazing story in my mind. It was a story I could retell about a man that would move me like no other; a story about the way we met and how he had swept me off my feet. But, the ending to that fairytale was so far from the reality. It involved years of a happy marriage and endless memories...not months. No one will want to hear our story now.

Grant and I fell in love in a lightning strike. It dissipated just as quickly as it struck, gone in a blink of an eye. Life had given us a great big period at the beginning of our sentence, and now I had a life sentence to serve without him.

No, no one will want to hear the end of our story. It will sadden them, make them come up with awkward words of half-assed condolence because they don’t have any fucking idea how bad this feels. Or maybe they do and they won’t want to relive it when they look at me. Either way, it was too short. There isn’t much to tell. But my heart and mind protested in that instant because I’d felt full with him. And as I lay on my parents’ bathroom floor, my mind swirled as I gripped and clung to every memory that flashed past me, pulling it close to my aching chest.

“Please, stop beating,” I begged my heart then addressed my mind. “Shut it off. Please, just shut it off.”

“Rose?”

It was Dallas. I turned my head to look at the door but remained silent. I was sure she’d heard me, and I was almost positive she’d been sitting outside the door the whole time.

“Rose, you’ve been in there for six hours. I swear to God I want to leave you alone, but I can’t. I can’t. Please open the door.”

Ignoring her plea, I lifted my hands and stared at them. These hands would eventually be able to reattach pieces of human flesh in the intricate way of a skilled surgeon. They would repair damage to vital organs. They could eventually fix the heart so it beat rhythmically. That would be my gift. At one point, I thought it was the only one I would get. I was fine with it. My heart didn’t know any differently. It needed no repair. I could laugh now at the pain I thought loving David caused. It was completely insignificant in that moment. I’d mourned nothing.

But this...this was what it was truly supposed to feel like, the finality, the loss of the largest piece of yourself.
This
was what it meant to have your heart broken.

No, the damage to my heart was done by the second gift I’d been given, and now, no matter how skilled my scalpel became or how sharp I remained in mind, I couldn’t do a damn thing about the damage to my own heart. My hands were useless.

No, I was never leaving this room.

****

“Mrs. Parker,” I heard Dallas sob. I knew she was trying her best to make sure I didn’t hear her hushed conversations, but I did. Thankfully, I was numb to them. “This is Dallas Whitaker...there’s been an accident.” Dallas’s voice cracked as she tried her best to remain strong as she went through my guest list to inform each and every person that expected to attend our wedding in a few days that the groom had passed. And instead of a wedding, they would have to attend a funeral. I loved Dallas more in those moments because I could hear the heartbreak in her voice for Grant. She was feeling his loss deeply, not only because she loved him, but because she loved me. It brought me a strange comfort to hear her strangled conversations. “Grant’s passed and, of course, the wedding . . .” There was a pause as shock registered to the caller, followed by what I was sure was the inevitable plea to pass on condolences.