Page 3 of It's Complicated

By the next class, we’d stolen three hideous lawn ornaments. We handed them in, got the bonus marks we were promised, and that was the beginning of our friendship. For shy, self-conscious me it felt inexplicably easy to hang out with them. I just fitted with Aiden and Jace in a way I’d never belonged with anyone before.

Probably because I hadn’t known them growing up. To them I was just Lori Archibald, the nerdy, rule-abider in their pre-med classes and never the “silent girl” I had been in Sarasota, the Florida town where I grew up.

I was born with a very small cleft palate that didn’t extend into a cleft lip and ironically, made the birth defect a hundred times more difficult to discover. Kids in pre-school made fun of me for my nasal voice and things got worse in grade school where I entered the first grade being practically mute for fear of being made fun of.

It was only when our old G.P. retired and we had to switch to a new general practitioner that I was diagnosed. That woman changed my life, she’s the reason I’ve always wanted to become a family doctor growing up. To change lives in return. I had a small surgery and solved the defect. But I still was made fun of as I was behind with my speech development and had a slight lisp, which turned me into an overly shy kid without many friends.And even years later, now my speech is perfectly normal, I sometimes feel like I still haven’t found my voice. At least if my fear of confrontation is any indication.

Anyway, the night of our gnome grand larceny made me feel for the first time like I belonged. Sadly, that’s also the night that stuck me in the friend zone forever. With Jace, it’s never been a problem. He’s always been too wild for me. But Aiden, poised, sweet, caring, fun, gorgeous Aiden, is my soulmate. Only he doesn’t know.

Palpitations make my heart throb again as my mind goes back to the ivory envelope adorning the hall floor. I can’t be alone in my apartment with the dispatch from heartbreak central. And I sure as hell can’t open it by myself.

I roll a finger inside the neck of my blouse. I need air. I need to get out.

I stand up, top the cats’ water and food, fill the hens’ feeder, collect their eggs that I’ll sell at Saturday’s farmers’ market, grab my keys, and get back out of the house merely twenty minutes after getting in.

2

JACE

Long day. I pull up into my building’s underground garage an hour later than I’d planned after having handled a last-minute walk-in with an upper respiratory tract infection. I kill the engine and debate if I can still squeeze in a quick workout in the 24/7 fitness center or if I should ditch the training for tonight and go for a run in the morning.

I get out of the car and take the elevator one floor up to the lobby, checking the weather forecast for tomorrow on my phone: 21 degrees with a chance of snow.

Oof.

Gym it is. Chicago’s winters and outdoor training don’t mix.

Before I can put the phone back in my pocket, it pings with a text.

From Zoe:

Want to hang out tonight?

The message is from Zoe. A woman I see occasionally. She’s often away for work, isn’t interested in a serious relationship, and doesn’t expect anything from me. In short, perfect. Still, theidea of another meaningless hookup feels as appealing as being stuck in trafficright now.

I shoot her a short text as I exit the elevator.

To Zoe:

Sorry, I’m busy

In the hall, Denzel, the night doorman, greets me with a polite, “Good evening, Dr. Barlow. I have your mail.”

He hands me a stack of envelopes and I shuffle through them on the ride up to my apartment. Utility bill. Credit card offer. Medical insurance renewal notice. Wedding invitation.

I low-whistle as I spot the fancy ivory envelope sealed with a pearly wax seal, the letters A and K monogrammed in the middle.

If Lori has seen this, she will have blown a gasket.

I enter my apartment, dropping my keys, wallet, and phone on the foyer console, then hang my coat in the small entrance closet. Next, I take off my shoes, stacking them in the built-in cabinet at the bottom of the closet—I hate to bring the dirt from outside into the house. I set down my unopened mail on the kitchen counter and walk down the hallway to my bedroom. I’ve just changed into basketball shorts and a T-shirt ready to hit the gym when my buzzer goes off.

What now?

With a groan, I throw my dirty clothes in the laundry basket and rush back toward the entrance to answer the intercom.

“Yeah?”

“Good evening again, Dr. Barlow.” Denzel’s voice comes distorted through the speaker. “Dr. Archibald is coming up to see you.”

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