Page 9 of The Fall

I filled out the paperwork, handed it over, then took a seat for the entire thirty seconds they made me wait and quickly scrambled to my feet when my name was called. I scanned the tiny room they placed me in and was met by my new doctor as he opened the door, reading what I assumed was my chart, and looked up. I blinked, and so did he as we both froze in place.

No fucking way.

“Dallas.”

The room shrank by half its size, and I suddenly needed air. There was no air. A thousand emotions ran through me as I pushed out my usual greeting.

“Dean! Dean Martin!” I laughed as I threw my arms around him. He chuckled at my usual poking at his name.

“Dally.” He lifted me off the floor in a long hug, then stood back, taking in my appearance. “How long has it been?”

“Seven years, and there is no way you’re looking at my vagina. I need to be reassigned.” I laughed through my request, as did he.

“I’ve seen it all, baby.” He took his stethoscope off his neck and arrogantly circled it through the air like a lasso.

“Very funny. Last time I checked, you were getting married,” I said randomly.

My mini-me took a gun out and shot me.

That seemed to sober him completely. “Yeah.” He lifted an eyebrow at me, and I quickly soaked him in. He wore a black three-piece suit and a blood-red tie underneath his jacket. He was a full foot taller than me and had the most ridiculous set of perfect white teeth that shone in contrast with his naturally olive skin and crystal blue eyes. His black hair was combed back—not a hair out of place—and I could see he was perfectly fit.

Oh, God.

I couldn’t shake the images of our past flooding my brain as his smell invaded my senses. We stood stunned for a moment until I broke the silence.

“Seriously, Dean, is there someone else? This is too weird, even for us professionals.”

“Yeah, I will go get Margaret. She’s great. So, you’re here at Dallas Memorial?”

“Yep, just started my second year. Rose is almost done, and she is going to start a surgical program while I start our practice. I can’t believe this. Why haven’t I seen you?”

“I just moved back from New York last month and started this week. Hey, congrats on the baby. Who is the lucky guy?”

“I’m not pregnant,” I told him quickly, and could see his visible exhale. “Though from the looks of the waiting room, you will be a very busy man,” I joked, absently straightening the thin disposable table cover as I avoided his gaze. His eyes were covering me, and I couldn’t help the slight tremble that started at the weight of his stare. The initial excitement of seeing him for the first time in so long was over, and I couldn’t stop replaying the memory of the last time we had seen each other. I looked up, noting that my bravery in doing so was stupid. It seemed he was thinking the same.

“Let me take you out tonight to eat?”

“I’m exhausted, Dean. How about a rain check?” I said, making a lame excuse—anything to get myself together before we were forced to make more small talk.

“Sure, it’s so good to see you, and you’ll be a wonderful mom someday.” I felt the change in the air as we stared at each other. I felt both the familiarity and the distance between us. It was odd and uncomfortable, yet I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I felt a stir from a place I had long ago forgotten and cleared my throat quickly to keep myself from entertaining it.

“How about you? Any kids?” I asked, desperately trying to draw in air as slowly and inaudibly as I could. He reluctantly let go of our connection, his perfect full lips turning up at the corners in a knowing smirk.

“None. Are you kidding? I’m not falling for this crap.” His eyes twinkled with his chuckle. I grabbed the plastic pillow from the exam table and threw it at him.

“It’s so good to see you, Dally,” he whispered as he closed the small distance between us and kissed my cheek, pulling back an inch away from my mouth. I stood stunned at his proximity. He traced my jawline with his thumbs and pecked my lips softly. I jumped at his kiss, and he quickly came to, seeming to catch himself.

“Sorry, horrible bedside manner. I do it with all my patients.” His joke fell on deaf ears. He noticed my demeanor had changed and quickly spoke up.

“I will go get Margaret, but I can stick around to ensure she is thorough,” he joked.

Still unable to shake his soft kiss, I looked up at him but couldn’t utter a word. Dean knew every look I had. He had touched every inch of my body. He was so familiar, and yet so much time had passed. I knew nothing about his life now. He was engaged, though his kiss tried to deem that fact unimportant. I felt the burn in my throat as I made a joke to keep things light.

“Yeah, why not? Bring in the other doctors, too, and a bucket with butter.”

“Still a sarcastic, sassy spitfire, huh, Dallas?”

“Still just the way you like me, Dean,” I said without thinking through my words.

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