Page 25 of We Were Something
Which is why this situation with Paige leaves me feeling so unsure of myself.
I’ve always listened to my gut, to that internal compass about right and wrong. And for the first time ever, my mind and my gut are not looking at things the same.
My mind tells me all the logical things any sane man could observe: she’s 16 years younger than me, she’s friends with one of my patients, she grew up in acompletelydifferent kind of world than I did, and it’s too soon post-divorce to consider anything with anyone.
My mind tells me Paige is the kind of trouble I’m not ready to mess with.
But my gut? It’s telling me the biggest mistake I could make is missing out on whatever this thing is that connects us. It says this explosive chemistry I can feel lifting the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck isn’t something I should ignore.
So what do I listen to?
The intuition that has guided me through almost every up and down and every difficult situation? Or the mind that has assisted me with identifying logical, rational, thoughtful next steps?
I’ve never had the two fail to be on the same page, so I feel at a loss for what kind of decision I should make. Which decision isright.
“Hey, man.”
The words are a bit muffled by the music thrumming through my headphones, but when I turn my head, I smile at the sight of Ben Calloway standing next to my machine.
Slowing to a stop, I press the end button on the screen and yank off the straps from where my shoes rest on the footplates.
“Hey, Ben,” I say, tugging out one of my headphones and standing, extending a hand that he takes with a firm grip of his own.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says.
I shake my head. “No, no. I was about done anyway so it’s perfect timing. How are things?”
Ben was my mentee back when he was a student at Roth Prep, and I’ve served as a reference for him a few times during his life with various applications to college and grad school. Now that he’s in his late twenties and owns a successful restaurant, he feels much more like a peer. Maybe even a friend, if I can allow myself that for once.
“Good, things are good,” he says. “Meeting with some potential investors next week about expanding.”
My eyebrows rise, though more in congratulations than surprise. “That’s great,” I tell him. “Finally deciding to get back to those primary goals, huh?”
He nods and gives me a smile that’s less guarded than normal for him. “Remembering what matters and focusing on new priorities,” he tells me, a statement that is both awash with information and cryptic as hell at the same time.
“Well, I’m happy for you,” I say, giving his shoulder a pat. “I know how hard you’ve worked, so I’m sure only good things are on the horizon.”
His smile grows. “Here’s hoping.”
“Remmy at home growing that baby tonight?” I ask, bending to pick up the water bottle resting on the ground next to my phone.
Ben chuckles. “Yup. Pregnancy looks good on my girl.”
I grin. “How far along is she now?”
“Just shy of twenty weeks, so the little guy is about the size of a banana.” He shakes his head. “It’s crazy.”
“So you’re having a boy?”
“Oh,” he says, then chuckles. “Sorry. I say little guy because I want a boy, but we actually don’t know yet what we’re having. Remmy doesn’t want to know until she gives birth, so…” He shrugs.
“As long as it’s healthy, you’re happy, right?”
Ben nods again. “Exactly.”
I take a swig of my water and glance down at my watch, realizing I’ve been here far too long and need to head home if I want to have any chance of getting enough sleep before my on-call shift begins tomorrow morning.
“Listen, I don’t want to keep you,” Ben says suddenly, and my eyes snap back to his. “But I actually came over because…”
