Page 7 of You Loved Me Once
“Good. You have to believe it’ll work because it’ll carry you through. And just know,” he runs his thumb across my lip, “I’ll be here every step of the way.”
Sometimes, he does something and I don’t know how to respond, and this would be one of those times. He says things that scare me, and I know he sees it. There are no steps for us. The next level doesn’t exist. This is all I’ve got to give.
A long time ago, I learned that love doesn’t guarantee happiness.
I will never love Westin.
I will never love anyone again. Not after finding out what losing love feels like.
“Westin,” I say as a warning.
He takes a step back with his hands up. “I know, I know. I’m just saying as a doctor. If you need a consult, and of course, any kind of testing, to ensure it’s working the way you hope.”
That’s not what he meant, but I’ll give him the out because he gives me mine. “Right, sorry. I should’ve known that was it . . . I’m being stupid with all this. I’m sorry to think it was something else.” I shake my head as though I’m embarrassed. Westin may be amazing, but he still needs to be a man. My father was the one who taught me about the need to preserve a man’s delicate ego—or my mother did, actually.
My mother walked on water, but the real miracle was how she handled him. Mom was able to make him believe she needed him when we all know she could’ve done anything on her own, and probably better than he could.
She would tell me that men like having their feelings fluffed, and by doing so, they fluffed your own.
My mother was a smart woman. I miss her every day.
Westin needs me to fluff him a bit.
“Stop,” he chuckles and wraps his arms around me. “You’re overthinking things with the trial today. I wasn’t clear. Speaking of the trial,” he trails off and looks at his watch. “You better get moving.”
If this combination doesn’t work, then everything I’ve been working for is a waste. All the lonely nights, late hours, and faces of patients I’ve had to tell they can’t have children have led to this moment. Right now, I can try to save women and give them time, but the cancer still robs them of something. It always does.
And my mind goes back to the one person from whom it took everything.
My mother.
I want to make her proud and prove that her trust in me wasn’t for naught.
“Okay,” I nod and rest my arms on his shoulders.
“Want breakfast?” he asks.
“I can’t eat.”
“Get ready and I’ll go make something.” He grips my cheeks and gives me a searing kiss. “You need to eat.”
I stand here with my head resting on the wall as he leaves the bathroom. He’s really perfect. There are times when I hate myself, and right now is one. I wish I were a bright-eyed girl who believed that love could save your soul. Rose-colored glasses may be stupid to own, but they make things beautiful.
I close my eyes as the steam floats around me, hating the hurt in my heart that I know won’t ever heal.
“Ren,” Westin knocks on the door, causing me to jump. “I got a call and need to head to the hospital now. I have a patient coming in for an emergency. I’ll see you later?”
“Sure, see you at work.”
“Dinner tonight and then stay the night at my place?” he asks.
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
I hear his chuckle at my response and then silence.
“What iswrongwith me?” I ask myself. Maybe I should’ve gone for therapy, I could use some help here. “Focus. No time to debate your ridiculous issues today. This works for now. No need to muddle it.”
I finish my shower and rummage through my closet. Dear Lord, I need a wardrobe makeover. Everything in here is drab and probably too big. It’s not as if I have all that many reasons to dress up. My clothes consist of green scrubs and a white coat. On the rare occasion I’m not at the hospital, I’m usually in sweats or naked—either works for me.
