There’s no connection?
Connection wasn’t about knowing how someone took their coffee, how they like their eggs, or even their favorite date night on Saturday. I balled up my fists and picked up my scrubs, throwing them in the closet before stomping to the bathroom and turning the bathwater as hot as it would go. Connection was about seeing someone’s soul and bearing your own. It was about picking up on their verbal and nonverbal cues and having an innate instinct about their body, who they were, and what they needed.
My face flushed as the bathroom steamed up, and I blinked rapidly as the tears fell—stupid period. I thought back to when he first moved in. He said he wasn’t relationship material, and I thought I was the one to suggest only keeping this up while we were under the same roof.
Why was I upset he was doing exactly that?
After last night, falling asleep in his arms while he read to me about a giant Kronosaurus that was alive hundreds of millions of years after it should have been extinct, my brain had done a three-sixty. Or maybe a one-eighty because I’d been second-guessing my keeping it casual suggestion since we brought it up.
With Jason, I was always on edge, always worried something terrible would happen—and forget about sex. It was a chore, another place I had to watch what I said and second guess myself, just like the rest of the relationship.
With Mark, it was different.
Of course, it was different.It wasn’t a relationship.
I choked out a sob, then bit the inside of my cheek as hard as I could, willing something to give as I dumped bubble bath in the tub and watched the bubbles rise.
A sharp rap on the door dragged me out of my pity party about ten minutes later, and I glanced at the cracked door, holding my breath.
“Hey Jenna, you okay?”
I should tell him to fuck off, but some twisted part of me still wanted his arms, even if it was a fake solution. I wanted to shake him, and kiss him, and drag him into the tub with me, screaming why. My hormones and emotions were all over the place. I needed to get a grip. I lifted my hands and shook them out, stretching out my neck and breathing deep to pull myself together.
“Yeah. Come in,” I said, wiping under my eyes and sinking under the suds.
“You, um, don’t look okay.”
Mark took a seat on the edge of the tub and leaned over, pressing his hand against my forehead. I tried to smile, but he looked at me the same way Dr. Duvall had, making me think I still had the grimace down pat.
“Ugh, I know. Tough day.”
Just leave. I’ll break down if you start being sweet.
“Why? What’s going on, baby?”
He got on his knees and leaned down, bringing his lips to my cheek. There was genuine concern in his eyes. So much that it almost tempted me to ask him about his phone call. But then I’d have to admit I was purposely listening in, and he’d rightly get pissed, spoiling how sweetly he was acting.
“Today was pretty awful. Plus, it’s, um, that time of the month.” Mortification slipped through my veins.
“What can I do? Want to get out and tell me about it?” He stood up and grabbed a fluffy towel off the rack. I nodded my head and pushed down the tears that threatened to spill down my face again.
Why is he being so sweet if he hated it here? Why can’t I push him away? He doesn’t want me.
He held the towel open as I pulled the plug in the tub and stood, wrapping me up while I dried. My hair fell in damp tendrils around my face, and I washed the lingering mascara smudges from under my eyes. When I walked into the bedroom, Mark was sitting on the edge of the bed in his briefs. He had laid out a pair of pajamas and was holding a book. He opened his arms, and I walked into them, melting into his embrace.
“Come here, and tell me everything,” he said, scooting over on the bed so I could crawl in beside him.
“Okay,” I settled in beside him and laid my head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and put one hand on my belly like he was trying to soothe the pain. It was so intimate, so loving.
I was going to ask him why he didn’t want more.
“Today started fine. But we had several routine patients get life-altering test results, and the owners put the pets to sleep. It was the right call, but four in a day was a lot to handle. Then I got into an argument with my clinic partner, Dr. Duvall. I don’t understand what’s going on with him. He treats me like a child, and it’s so demeaning. I hoped to stop at the nursery, the one off of High Street, for a plant on the way home. I do that, you know. Whenever a patient passes, I get a plant. I know it’s probably stupid because I kill plants as fast as I buy them. And with Phoebe here, I can’t bring any in the house. And I am not blaming you at all, Mark, so don’t even suggest that.”
He gave me a squeeze and leaned down, running his nose against my hair. “I know you don’t blame me. Keep going.”
I nodded into his chest and took a deep breath, blowing it out to match my breaths with his.
“That’s really it. But to top it off, I overheard something I shouldn’t have, and it was pretty terrible. So, I’m hurt and pissed. Plus, my period, and you’re being amazing and wonderful and caring and everything I could possibly want in, you know, a boyfriend…”
