Page 78 of Tulips and Lost Time

“I heard we’re rostered on for the same shifts next week. Surely that’s plenty of time spent together.”

“Fun coincidence.” I cut the engine, so we don’t have to speak louder than necessary, but I remain on my bike and continue to roll it. “The fact is, you’ll be working the ER floor, and I’ll be in the bus. So even if we get to flirt during handover, our time will be limited.”

“Such tragic news.” She cuts across in front of my bike, so I brake, or risk running her down. Then she crosses the street and forces me to do the same. “I don’t want to do this with you, Luc. I don’t want the push and pull drama. This isn’t my attempt to convince you to chase me. Hell,” she glances back and seethes when she finds me on her heels again, my bike positioned so she’s sandwiched between it and the curb. “I’m not playing a game. I’m not asking for attention. I just want to be left alone.”

“I believe you when you say you’re not playing a game.” I press my feet to the ground and roll the bike a little faster, then cutting her off and turning my front wheel to trap her, I grab her arm and bring her around until our eyes meet. “I understand that I hurt you, Bear. More than once.”

“Too much time has passed.” Her eyes glitter and dance, not with glee, but with the kind of heartache that makes my stomach hurt. “We’re completely different people now.”

“Which makes this better.” I tug her closer, her knee hitting my thigh and her breath bathing my lips. “We’re different now, Bear. We’re older. Wiser. Braver.”

“I’m not braver. I used up all my bravery when I was eighteen and begged my brother’s best friend to kiss me. Then I scraped a little more together over the next three years and followed you back to town that one Thanksgiving. All I got for my time was the realization that you didn’t love me at all.”

“Bear, I?—”

“A man who loves a woman doesn’t sleep with someone else.”

“I thought you were dating that other fucker!” I squeeze her arm and feel that mild stab of guilt because I know I hurt her. “I hadn’t seen you in three fucking years, Kari! Three. I didn’t touch a single woman in all that time. Then I do see you, and from where I was sitting, it looked like you were cozied up with that other dude.”

“So you slept with my best friend!? Who does that, Luc? Who the hell acts that way and calls it love?”

“It was a mistake.” I swap hands, taking hers in my left, and bringing my right up to cup her delicate neck. “It was something that happened after a fuck ton of liquor and a heart filled with pain. It doesn’t make it better,” I push on when she opens her mouth to speak, “I know it doesn’t excuse it. I feel like shit, and there isn’t a single second of any day I don’t wish I could go back and make different choices. But you have to allow us room for the fact you and I were not together. We had not been in the same fucking room for three years. And I was under the impression you were in a relationship with someone else. You can consider me a bastard, Bear. But you don’t get to call me a cheat or a liar.”

“You broke my heart.” She brings her free hand up, sliding her palm over my arm until goosebumps sprint along my skin and pebble my flesh. “Twice.”

“I know.”

“You sent me away. And then you went to bed with my sister.”

I nod in acknowledgment. “I know.”

“There’s nothing left for me and you,” she whimpers, her voice crackling with pain. “Even if I want there to be. Even if I wish things could be different. Even if,” she drags my hand off her neck, bringing it down to rest over her pounding chest. “Even if my heart still beats for yours. There’s nothing left. Because there isn’t a single moment where I can look into your eyes and not think of you and Britt together.” She drops my hands and takes a step back. “It takes everything I have to not let Britt know that I know. By the time I’m done salvaging that relationship, there’s nothing left for you.”

“Kari—”

“Please don’t make things worse. I’m seeing Blake now, and it’s taken me years to reach a point where I don’t feel like I’ll fold over and die when I think of you.”

“I know you’re not actually dating him, Bear. I know it’s a front, so you can protect yourself.”

“So let me.” She moves onto a corner block, to cut around and shave off a minute from her walk. “Let me protect myself. It’s the least you could do.”

“Hey Kari?” I sit tall on my bike, swallowing as I watch her back and wait for her to decide: stop and turn, or walk away and leave me behind. “Babe? Look at me.”

She pauses in the dirt, shaking her head. But she doesn’t turn. She doesn’t give me that gift.

“Then look at the ground beneath your feet. It’s September, so the season is wrong, and the summer is too damn hot. But come back here in May, and you’ll be standing in a field of tulips.”

Stunned, her head comes up again and around, her glistening green eyes destroying my heart and yet, restoring hope. Slowly. Painfully.

“What?”

“Maybe what we need is more time.” I gulp the dust from my mouth, swallowing my spit and lubricating my dry throat. “And tulips.”

“What we need is a time machine,” she sighs. “We need to go back and choose differently. Because we picked wrong back then. And now we can’t fix this.”

23

LUC

---