Page 113 of Baby, One More Time

I chuckle at that. “Guess that cab driver really is having the ride of a lifetime.” Then I turn serious. “Why doesn’t it matter?”

“Because if you make me fall in love with you anyway, I’m toast all the same.”

My heart pounds in my chest at her admission that she’s falling for me again. Still, I keep my reply light. “Are you accusing me of being irresistible?”

“And sneaky. You’ve wiggled back into my life without me even realizing and now you’re everywhere.”

“And that’s a bad thing.”

“Horrible.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m still scared. Whenever I imagine going back all in with you, all I can see is your pickup skidding away into the night, leaving me behind with no explanation.”

The skin on my face turns to pins and needles as shame for my past actions washes over me. “I’m sorry, Mari, I know it doesn’t matter how many times I say it, but I am. Back then, I wasn’t brave enough to fight for us. But I’m fighting now. I’m here, whatever you need. But you’re going to have to make a decision at some point… about us… about what you want, either way.”

“I know.” Her voice sounds small. “It’s why I need to not see you for a while. To sort my feelings, and Nora will be fine, right?”

“Yeah, her mother is in town, she’s distracted.”

“Right.” Marissa’s voice sounds a notch colder. “Anyway, you can have your mom bring her over to read to her brother or I can stop by your parents’ house. I just need a break from…”

“From me, I get it. You just don’t want us to see each other or is this a total break, no texts, no phone calls?”

“A total break might be best.”

My instinct is to beg her to reconsider. But maybe space is what we both need. I purse my lips to stop the wrong words from coming out. “Can I just ask one thing?”

“Sure.”

“Send me a text every night, just to let me know you’re home safe and feeling okay.”

“I can do that.” Another long pause. “Bye, John.”

“Take care.”

As the call ends, I hug the phone to my chest. I knew this moment was coming. One way or another, we had to come out of the limbo we’ve been living in. How we’re going to emerge on the other side is anyone’s guess.

After a radio silence weekend where Marissa only sends me short, efficient “I’m okay, going to bed” texts at night, my mood on Monday morning isn’t the best. Amada doesn’t seem to mind my broodiness. My research associate is nonchalantly sitting on my desk, data reports in one hand, half-eaten Mars bar in the other, happily chatting away as if we were discussing the latest Knicks game instead of diverse statistic approaches to sorting data.

I’m about to gauge my eyes out—data analysis was never my forte—when a young pregnant woman barges inside my office, interrupting us.

“Dr. Dishy,” the woman announces. “We finally meet.”

For a moment I’m at a loss for what to say. I’m not sure if she means “Dishy” as an actual surname and she’s looking for a colleague I’ve never heard of, or if she means the appellative as some kind of pun.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe you’re one of my patients…”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry.” She leans on the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m the reason you’re being ghosted.”

My frown deepens, while Amada asks, “Who’s ghosting you, boss?”

“No one’s ghosting me.” Turning to the strange woman, I add, “Have we met?”

“No, but that’s what I’m trying to remedy.” At my even more confused expression, she adds, “Let’s back-pedal a minute. I should’ve probably started with a different opening line.” She walks into the room—uninvited—and offers me a hand to shake. “Morning, Dr. Raikes, I’m Blake, Marissa’s best friend. Nice to meet you.”

I take her hand, still a little surprised. “Ah, yes, Marissa mentioned you. Nice to meet you, too.”

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