“What did he say?” she asks, handing me a towel.
“That we were drunk, not thinking clearly. That it’s a conflict of interest.”
She waggles her head. “He’s not wrong.”
“But I can compartmentalize.”
She raises a brow. “Not everyone shares your skill set for stifling emotions.”
“You can’t stifle something that doesn’t exist,” I say, dabbing on moisturizer.
She’s silent for a long moment, avoiding eye contact in the mirror. “Maybe he can’t compartmentalize. I think he likes you.”
“No, he doesn’t,” I say.
“Ana, dudes don’t bring you hangover cures first thing in the morning if they haven’t caught feelings.”
“His job is to keep me happy,” I insist, heading back into the room to dress. “And he probably feels like he has to double down now after rejecting me. Like I’ll report him to Woodsworth or something unless he plies me with coffee and pastries.”
Maral unwraps the muffin Ryan brought me, taking a hearty bite. I grab the coffee cup before she can get her mitts on it, sipping and feeling renewed warmth at Ryan’s gesture, not to mention his impeccable taste in coffee. It’s dark and strong, from a local roaster, judging by the emblem on the cup. He remembered that I take it black, a small fact that nevertheless makes my throat feel funny.
“I’ve noticed the way he looks at you when he thinks nobody’s watching,” Mar says. “He’s not as buttoned-up as he appears. His face says everything.”
“Well, his mouth said no when you invited him to breakfast.”
“Because I’d be third-wheeling you guys something fierce.” Shefrowns, chewing. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for the rest of this trip. Keep out of the way more. I’ll let Shanth know too.”
“You absolutely will not. It was one drunken kiss, and nothing else is going to happen.”
She rolls her eyes overtly as she takes another bite. “He better have some rock-solid resolve, then. He’s dealing with the most tenacious person in the history of the world. Does he know you don’t take no for an answer?”
“I do if a guy rejects me.”
“Which has happened exactly zero times in your life.”
I stare at her for a beat. “It’s happened once.”
She licks a crumb off her bottom lip, her face falling. “This is not the same. Ryan is a grown-ass man, unlike that loser piece of garbage who dropped you when you needed him most. Ryan’s got his shit together. He can handle a real human woman.”
My eyes burn, a sensation I resolutely banish as I slip on my shoes. Nathan seemed like he could too. He was the quintessential Good Boyfriend in every way. Perfectly loving and supportive through our relationship as we finished our last year of med school and embarked on residencies at the same time. He gave me all the fun, love, and sex I’d always wanted out of a relationship. He charmed my parents, promised the picture-perfect kind of forever they’d always wanted for me, and meant to follow through.
If only things had stayed so perfect.
If only Dad hadn’t died, tearing down the tentpole that propped up the fabric of my life, causing everything to come crashing down around me. The impossibility of working at the hospital day after day. Mom’s total collapse. The heartache I had to keep bottled up every day, lest I upset the cart and make things worse for her and thus myself. The grief that took Nathan by complete surprise when I let it loose in his presence, seeking comfort, solace, but instead getting shocked denial, silence, neglect, and, eventually, retreat.
You’ve changed. You’re not who I thought you were. I don’t think I can do this anymore.
The coffee churns like acid in my stomach. I throw the cup in the garbage.
There’s no way I’ll put myself in that position again.
Not that that’s an option here, anyway. Ryan and I work together, and that precludes anything else.
“He won’t behandlinganything,” I say. “It would have been a one-night thing, and now it’s going to be a no-night thing.”
I grab my bag, turning up the ringer on my phone. Which is when I see the texts Ryan sent me this morning.
Didn’t see you at the gym. Feeling okay?
