She's Out of Control (15 page)

“Ashley, it's me. I'm really sorry, but I unexpectedly had to go to India this morning. I waited as long as I could, but it was the only flight I could catch before Wednesday. Rhett's at home with Kay, and Sam is going to pick you up. I'll call you as soon as I get in.” I'm trying to make this register.
Seth is in India
.
He went without me. Who says you need closure?

I drop my bags around my feet and look at the line of cabs. Hans is driving away in the company car as we speak, and I'm waiting for Sam. The big, mean, burrito-eating machine. I settle myself on my red suitcase, which substitutes as a camp seat, and I force myself not to think about my situation, but tears are coming unabated anyway. He left me. I've been under this delusion that I dumped him, but when all is said and done, Seth did the leaving.

A half an hour passes, and I'm still waiting without enough will of my own to get into a cab. Just as I'm about to force myself to stand up and move, Dr. Kevin Novak drives up in his Porsche Boxter. “I heard you needed a ride. Going my way?”

The sight of him causes more tears, and I rush toward him for a much-needed hug, but I halt in my tracks at the realization that I've been played
. Sam.
It wasn't enough for him that Seth was leaving the country. Sam had to do his best to thwart my chances for any future. Enter Kevin.

Still, I'm grateful for Kevin's appearance. I'm so desperately tired. And last time I had jet lag, I inadvertently hit a police officer with my Prada bag and ended up in the slammer. So I'm taking this ride, knowing that at least now I won't be headed for the pokey.

“Aren't you on call?” I ask him through the window.

“I worked all night instead. I thought I might have missed you. I got the call on my pager, but didn't check it until a half an hour ago. I guess Arin assumed I'd get the message.”

Arin?

“We should make a great pair then. Me with jet lag, you without sleep.”

“We'll stop for an espresso,” Kevin says as he gets out of the car.

“Music to my ears. So how did you end up here?”

Kevin takes my bag from me. “Well, Sam got held up so he called Arin, and Arin couldn't do it, so Arin called me.”

“Why didn't he just call Kay?”

“Something about a puppy and a torn rug. That's all I know.” Kevin gets out of the car and opens the trunk, placing my bags in what little there is of a trunk. “I visited your puppy this week.”

He opens the door for me, and I slide into what feels like a cockpit. “I appreciate this. Thanks, Kevin.”

“You don't sound like you appreciate it.” One eyebrow of his goes higher than the other, and I'm fascinated by his uncanny ability to mimic an actor's look.

I buckle my seat belt and stare straight ahead. “No, I really do appreciate it. It's just that I had other ideas in my head. Expectations and all that. So why did you visit my puppy?”

“One of my colleagues has this little cancer patient, and she loves dogs. Unfortunately, while she was in for chemo, her dog died at home. Her mom doesn't want to tell her, so I brought Rhett in to keep her spirits up. I didn't think you'd mind.”

“No, not at all. Did she like Rhett?”

“You should have seen it, Ashley. She loved Rhett, and Rhett didn't want to leave her side. I think he's a very intelligent dog, too, because he went sniffing right where her cancer incision was. It's like he knows where she's sick.”

“No kidding?” I nod my head. “I knew he was a great dog.”

“That's a beautiful ring.” Kevin grabs my hand. “Did you get that in Taiwan?”

I nod.

“I was going to say, I think I'd remember that.”

“You remember everything, like that I am on Atkins.”

“You're looking great, too. But it's my job to remember. I couldn't have gotten through med school without a memory. I remember everything, so be careful what you say. If, for example, you tell me those boots cost $400, don't try and tell me later they were $200.”

I lift my foot, laughing. “They're knockoffs—$75.”

“I didn't know you had it in you to bargain hunt.” His smile is absolutely gorgeous. I find myself utterly entranced by his profile as I turn and face him in the car.

“The secret is to never overwhelm with an outfit. You saw my Kenneth Cole suede jacket?”

“I saw your suede. I'm not much of a tag reader.”

“The designer jacket is the focus of today's outfit. If I go buying Prada boots with the jacket, then I'm like saying, ‘Look at me' instead of ‘Look at this great jacket, my focal point of the day.' Like any great room, a great outfit should have a focal point.”

Kevin's gripping the steering wheel while he laughs. “It's frightening how you say that like it's the most normal theory in the entire world. No wonder you're a lawyer, you have that ability to justify anything.”

“Justify? I'm not justifying. I'm merely saying that today the jacket is the star of the show. Tomorrow, it might be my great new handbag from Taiwan.”

He's still laughing. I love how he laughs. It's with his entire being, and the fact that he finds me so entertaining gives me a ripple of pleasure. My ego needed this today.

“So are you ever going to write these fascinating theories down?”

“Absolutely. If I could write a book about fashion overkill, I'd just be doing the world a favor. I mean, Paris Hilton? Complete fashion overkill on a daily basis. She's got a great body, but let's leave a bit to the imagination, you know? Overkill. Mariah Carey? Satin is just
so
over. And she needs to invest in some undergarments the world doesn't see.”

“Ashley, I have no idea who you're talking about, but my world is so much bigger with you in it.” He ventures a look my way, and I see he's not teasing me. He actually enjoys my ramblings on nothing. My mind started to wander. “Ashley, did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

“I asked you if you got the general counsel job.”

“Oh no. At least not yet, but Hans and I got a lot done in Taiwan. I think we're going to have a really solid team in Taipei. The better the engineers, the better the patents. The more foolproof.” I look out the window. “By the way, what were Arin and Sam doing that she was too busy to pick me up?”
Seeing as how they don't have jobs and you're, like, a surgeon.

“She's packing to go to India. Apparently, she's picturing herself the next Mother Teresa.”

I gasp so deeply that poor Kevin thinks I've choked, and he whacks me on the back.
Calm. Be calm
. India is an enormous country. She probably won't even see another Caucasian, much less Seth. “She's leaving the country again?”

“She needed to find a sponsor to join up with FoodVision, and she found one.”

“Only one?”

“Seth. I guess he's paying for it from his trust.” He sees my face and shakes his head. “I'm sorry, Ashley. I assumed you knew.”

My head is shaking of its own volition. “What trust?”

“Seth's trust fund.”

“Seth's trust. Where would Seth get a
trust?”

“I don't know. He told Arin he'd pay for it from his trust. Actually, he announced it during Bible study last week. They both seemed happy about the arrangement.”

His parents were missionaries in China. Where would he possibly get a trust?
Unless, he invented it.
I rub my temples.
I wonder if there's an award for being the most naive person on the planet? American Idiot.

Kevin pulls the car off the freeway at nearly the first exit, and we drive into downtown Burlingame, a wealthy, elitist suburb of San Francisco. He stops the car in front of a small roasting company, and the aroma of coffee fills my senses. “Are you hungry?”

I nod. “Yeah, I think I am.”

Kevin seems to sense that I'm not all here and his brows furrow. “Arin and Seth share a vision, so Arin tells me. He has the money. She has the heart for missions.” He speaks softly and covers his hand over mine. It's probably the same move he uses to tell someone a patient is dying. “It's a match made in heaven, and Ashley . . .” He looks straight into my eyes. “It's still going to be all right.”

Only it's not.
“I feel like such a stunningly fantastic idiot. I am a complete idiot, aren't I?”

He doesn't answer for a moment. “Did you not just relay the theory of focal point dressing?” He grins. “No one”—he turns to me, and uses both hands for emphasis—
“no one
who understands the intricacies of focal point dressing is an idiot. Seth wears the Mitel T-shirt and jeans nearly every day. It's just too obvious for my tastes.” Kevin shrugs and looks away with the utmost severity until he falls into laughter. “Those are the facts as we know them. I let you be the judge on where the idiocy lies.”

Kevin's ruggedly handsome exterior is just that. On the inside he's soft and chewy like a marshmallow. He feels things deeply, unlike most doctors I've met, but I don't trust myself any longer. “I just want God's will.” But that's not really true. I want what I want when I want it. And unfortunately for me, God's onto me.

“Seth's leaving you for a rat-infested country, Ashley.”

I wring my hands together. “I work too much anyway. It was wishful thinking to try a relationship in this town.”

“I work a lot too.” His expression softens, and I realize he's talking about being more than friends. But no. I just got dumped. I'm on the rebound. And Kevin is too stinkin' perfect, have I not mentioned that?

“Work's a good thing sometimes,” I say to avoid any relationship discussion.

He brings my hands together and clasps them in his own. “Can't you give me a moment's credit that maybe there's something here?”

But I don't want to face that. I don't want to jump off this precipice and start again. I want to hang back with Seth, where it's safe and comfortable, even though I know it's a lie. “Kevin, you could have any woman you wanted. There's not one thing settled in my life: not my job, my mortgage, my pet ownership. If you thought Arin was flaky, I'm a king-sized croissant.”

“You think I know what's happening? I don't know if Stanford will keep me on. I don't know if I want to stay a pediatric surgeon. Watching all these sick children every day hurts my heart like I never imagined. I'm too soft to be a doctor. Trust me, Ash, your life's dramas don't scare me.”

“Well, they should.”

We all have faults, and as I look at Kevin's gorgeous façade, none of his faults are readily apparent. But then, Seth seemed a little like that too at first, but now . . . . If I fall for someone else, will I have the same results? They say that's the sign of mental illness, when you do the same thing and expect a different result. What if I spray Kevin with Ashley-repellent, too? Then what?

14

A
s I look at the breakfast menu, I just get annoyed. California is such a freak show. It's ten dollars a plate for ingredients like feta, tarragon, tofu, and fresh baby greens. I just want eggs. Well, really I want pancakes, and they market them like they're Atkins-approved: high-protein, whole-wheat hotcakes served with a side of fresh strawberry yogurt. Really now, can yogurt actually be fresh?

“What are you having?” Kevin's sage-green eyes peer over the top of the menu, and I have to admit they give Seth's tanzanite eyes a run for their money in decadence.

“Pancakes,” I state with conviction. “With strawberries and whipped cream.”

“As a doctor . . .” he says deeply.

“As a doctor, you know when to keep your mouth shut, right?”

He laughs. “No, I learned that as a son of a vain mother. Besides the fact is that you don't need to lose weight. Do you want to look like Arin?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Arin looks emaciated, Ashley. You look healthy. And quite gorgeous, I might add. That's my professional opinion.”

I smile to myself. They did a survey on whether men liked Renee Zellweger's look when she ballooned up for a role, or when she is emaciated and toned as she normally is. The men voted for round, though it involves a difference in cleavage, so it may not be a fat/skinny thing. And Renee is gorgeous regardless of her weight, so I guess the study actually has no take-away for me.

Kevin is still smiling at me. He's so much like Greg Wilson—the ideal of my youth. I had a crush on the redheaded Greg in high school, but he was entirely out of reach. He went to Woodside Priory, an elite prep school, lived in a mansion in Atherton, and even wore Cole Haans to youth group, though I had no idea what they were called back then. Greg Wilson was so quiet and reserved. You just knew he had so much going on inside, and you wanted a key. Alas, he stayed in his tower, and I went out with the boys who wore Nikes. I sneak a look at Kevin's shoes:
nice, good quality loafers.

The waitress comes at this point, the point where I'm deliberating on my thighs and pancakes, and on the vision of wispy Arin on Seth's nickel in a foreign country. “Eggs over medium with a side of vegetables. Can you use olive oil for those?” I start to ask if the oil is cold-pressed, but realize I'm sounding more and more like Kay. And anal-retentive is not the direction I'm heading.

The waitress nods at me, but suddenly focuses on Kevin and seems to realize he looks like Hugh Jackman. She sputters for a moment, then recovers. “And for you?”

“Pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream.” He smiles. “Lots of whipped cream.”

“Do you want the high-protein whole-wheat pancakes?” the waitress asks, and Kevin looks to me. I nod slightly.

“I sure do,” he says, and the waitress goes off with a skip in her step.

“What's it like to have that effect on people?” I ask him.

“What do you mean?”