Page 34 of Sweet Heart

“Yes, hermosa. You do.”

***

My hand hovers in the air while my brain is flooded with thoughts. She doesn’t want to see you. She ignored your text for a good reason. What if she says no? My breath comes out shakily.

Why am I here? I am not impulsive like this. I plan, calculate, and strategize. Rushing to a woman’s apartment because she ghosted me is not part of that. I get the feeling again that I am in some telenovela, and I wonder what Mary is doing to me.

My hand falls to my side as I go over the facts again. One: I chased her away because I didn’t know what to do with myself. Two: She drew a clear line in the sand by not responding to my texts. I am crossing that line by being here. Three: I am here to soothe myself. To get back what I’ve lost.

Not once did I stop and think about what Mary might want—might need. But she certainly doesn’t need a work-obsessed surgeon with no respect for personal boundaries. That’s for sure. She deserves to be respected and loved. Fully and completely. What do I have to offer her?

I allow my shoulders to drop and my head to bow before I turn around to see the scuffed white toes of a pair of sneakers. Everything in me stills, and I feel the world around me dissolve as I lift my gaze. She is there, standing at the top of the stairs with grocery bags in her hands.

“Mary,” I whisper, suddenly hyperaware. “How… how long have you been—”

“Long enough to watch your internal debate.”

There is no venom behind her words, but no warmth, either. They are… plain.

“I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…”

She tilts her head, walks up to her door, and nods softly.

“Okay.”

She puts her groceries on the floor and searches for her keys, as if I am not even here. A nuisance. It makes the air in my lungs feel hot and heavy. I didn’t lose the battle. I lost the freaking war.

I close my eyes and huff out the last trapped bit of air left in me before I turn to leave, right as Mary bends forward to open her door. Her hair falls to the side, exposing her neck. Green and yellow bruises stain her skin, and I feel the blood drain from my face. Everything in me turns hot, then cold, and then sharp in a way I’ve never experienced before.

“¡Dios, Maria!” I breathe, my fingers instinctively reaching out toward the contusions. “What happened?”

Chapter 13

Mary

Cat steps closer, her eyes wide. She reaches for me and I go still, unsure what to do. I had planned to keep her at a distance, but the second I saw her hesitate at my front door, all my resolve from the last few days started to melt away.

But I can’t. Not like this. Not like nothing ever happened. I take a step back, and her fingers freeze in midair.

“I… I’m sorry, I…” she stammers, instantly dropping her hand.

Her eyes search my face, but keep trailing back to my neck, and I instinctively bring my fingers up to cover the bruises. She flinches, the lines of worry evident on her face, and everything in me screams to comfort her. To tell her I am okay, that it is nothing. But I am not, and they aren’t.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It’s easy to give Cat the forgiveness that she has come here for, but what about me? What do you need, Mary? I need her to tell me why she is here, instead of me filling in the gaps of her silence with my own expectations.

My eyes flutter open to find her holding her breath. I can almost taste her distress, and that is the last thing I want. That’s just not who I am.

I swallow and nod.

“I will be fine, really.”

I can’t keep the warmth from my voice, not when she looks at me like that. Right now, there is nothing left of that mask she wears at the hospital. All I see is a fragile and broken woman who’s worried about me. Not about herself or her career. About me.

Her face crumples slightly at the tone of my voice, and I can see her release some of the tension she was holding. But her eyes are still on mine, worried, questioning.

“What… what happened?”

Her voice is so small that it chips away at my already crumbling walls. What is it about this woman? You’ve never behaved like this before. So gullible. She knows she has no right to ask, but I know she can’t not.