REENA
Dr. Nance's office is nice, bright and usually feels perfectly normal sized. But with the broad-shouldered man taking up so much space, it feels suddenly too small. At least he looks almost as stunned as I do.
"Excuse me?" His voice is the perfect, rumbling rasp that makes my skin prickle with awareness and I can easily imagine what it would be like to hear that whispered in my ear. Such a common sentence, but it makes my stomach clench with excitement. It's deep, sexy and that's only after hearing him say two words. What would he do to me if it was a paragraph.
"Yes, yes, I'm sorry. I've left a bit of the situation out." Dr. Nance points to the second chair in front of her desk and gestures for me to sit. "I'll explain the plan we've come up with. It's unorthodox, but we truly believe it will work."
The giant looks down at me, one brow raised in question, and it's such a grumpy look that it makes me want to laugh. I shrug and take the seat indicated, and once I'm settled, he squeezes himself back into his chair and we wait.
"Porter, as you're aware, we have a memory care section that includes residents with different needs depending on the severity or progression of their illness. In this case, Reena's uncle is at a point where transitioning to this space would be best for him. We've discussed it with him, but he's resisting the change."
"Because of me." The admission hurts a little, and I'm not as able to keep the emotion out of my voice as I want because Porter gives me a concerned, if still confused, look when he glances down. I hurry to add. "He's told me he can't agree to this as long as I'm single. It's part of the promise he made to my mother when she was ill. That he'd take care of me and make sure I wasn't alone."
My Uncle Glenn has been my best friend since I was a small child. He coached the teams I played on, sat in the front row at my dance recitals and held my hand at my mother's funeral. I had never met my father, then lost my mother to cancer, but I'd never felt alone. Not really. Until his diagnosis. Until the dementia started taking him away from me bit by bit.
But this thing, this promise, it was all that was holding him here. Even though he needed this change.
I make myself explain more, hoping to make some sense for this man who must think I'm crazy. "I'm his Power of Attorney. I could force him to move into memory care just by signing a paper. But, I think, if I can make him believe that I'm with someone, that I'm happy, then he'll choose to make this change himself."
Dr. Nance gives me an encouraging smile and adds, "When they are able to make their own choices, the change is much less traumatic and results in better outcomes. When forced, well, it's especially painful and difficult. For everyone involved."
"Ah," Porter says, nodding and my heart lifts as he settles back against the chair. I swear it creaks a little because he's justso big in comparison. He lifts his eyes to mine and I feel a spark of hope. Maybe Dr. Nance was right. Maybe he'll agree to help us with this plan.
His long fingers run over his denim clad thighs, drawing my attention. The fabric clings to his muscular frame, and I force myself to look away. I'm asking a lot of this man. A fake relationship. To pretend he cares about me. I shouldn't be ogling him in the meantime.
"I understand this means a lot to you. I do." His deep voice rumbles and it soothes an aching part of me. For the first time in too long, I can feel myself relaxing a fraction. It's like just listening to him eases some of the tension I'm constantly carrying.
"But I'm sorry. I can't do this."
3
PORTER
She stares at me, hurt in her pretty blue eyes, and I wish I could take it back. What she and Dr. Nance are trying to do makes sense, but it violates a principle I hold dear. Honesty. I've been lied to before, misled, and I can't do that to anyone else.
Dr. Nance coughs and I'm glad for an excuse to look away from Reena.
"Thank you for listening. Would you at least consider having lunch here with Reena, so she can tell you a little more about her uncle? Maybe there's a way the two of you can find common ground, a way to make this work without doing anything that would make you feel uncomfortable." She holds out two green tickets. "Lunch would be on me. For the both of you. Anything on the menu, you can order."
I hesitate, then glance at Reena. Some of the pain I glimpsed earlier is gone, replaced by a glimmer of something else. Maybe hope.
She speaks up first. "I have time for lunch. If you do, Porter."
The idea of spending a little more time with her is appealing. The instant attraction I'd felt when she walked in is still there,simmering in my blood, and even though I should, I can't make myself walk away just yet. "I can make time."
"Excellent," says Dr. Nance. "Take these and head on over to the dining room. I'll let the staff know to expect you."
I stand, taking the tickets, and holding out a hand for Reena to help her up from her chair. I meant it to be a polite gesture, but the warmth of her fingers curling around mine makes my gut tighten. I can smell the sweet scent of her, we're standing so close, and I want to bury my face in her hair. I want to surround myself with the citrus and vanilla blend that seems so natural for her. This is dangerous. I've been around her for minutes and already I'm at risk of getting in too deep.
Leading her out of the office, I shoot a look over my shoulder. Dr. Nance gives me a hopeful smile and picks up the phone on her desk.
"I'm sorry we put you in this position." Reena's soft statement pulls my gaze to her. She looks uncomfortable, and painfully sad.
"Hey," I say, my hand settling into the small of her back as if it belongs there. "It's all right. Really."
She nods, her lips attempting to curve into a smile and not quite accomplishing it. "Thank you."
We make our way down the hall, and I curl my hand into a fist, because that's the only way I won't reach for her again. By the time we arrive in the dining room, my restraint is at the edge, because I want to pull her into my arms, to hug her close, to offer her some comfort. My hand is coming up on its own when we're stopped at the entrance to the dining room.
