Full Package(59)
“Absolutely. I’m stoked we’re friends, too.”
But she’s also something else. She’s an ex, and that’s a whole other thing. I’m learning being friends with an ex isn’t the same as being friends with a woman.
Once you’ve crossed the line into lovers, everything changes. Returning to the way you were before isn’t easy.
It’s onerous.
35
From the pages of Josie’s Recipe Book
* * *
Josie’s Liquid Courage
* * *
Ingredients
Coffee
Cinnamon
Courage
* * *
Brew your best Ethiopian coffee in a coffeemaker.
Pour into your favorite mug. Stir in cinnamon. Add a dollop of cream.
Get ready. You can do anything.
36
That Sunday, Max and I finish the century. Our team comes in third, and we raise a few thousand dollars for veterans. Not too shabby for two dudes who aren’t pro cyclists.
The next morning he leaves for a car show, and on the way to work I finish an audiobook on the role of randomness in our lives (spoiler: chance is everything). At the hospital, I start my shift with a patient who’s suffering from an early case of the flu. We treat her and then move on to a boy with a broken arm. They’re textbook cases, and we take care of them.
Everything feels as normal as it can possibly be. Amazing, how you can think you won’t survive a broken heart, but experience has taught me that you always do. You just keep moving forward. Life goes on, and during my lunch break with David, I grab a turkey sandwich from the cafeteria and get in line to pay. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot an orthopedic surgeon I know as he unfolds a brown lunch bag and takes out a tuna fish sandwich. My first instinct is to text Josie that I’ve spotted someone in the wild eating our least favorite food.
Briefly, I wonder if I can still do that. If I should do that. And the fact that I don’t know the right answer gnaws at my gut.
But then it’s my turn to pay. As I open my wallet to grab some bills, a business card falls out. I grab it from the counter next to the cashier and flip it over. Kevin’s card. Right. He included it when he gave me the cooking class certificate.
Oh shit.
I never thanked him for the class.
When I finish my turkey sandwich, I push away from the table, and tell David I need to go. Out in the corridor, I lob in a call, and Kevin’s receptionist puts me through right away when I say who I am.
“Dr. Summers, how the hell are you? I hope you aren’t calling to tell me you found something suspicious in an old forehead X-ray of mine?”
I laugh and shake my head. “Nope, and call me Chase. Anyway, I wanted to say thank you for the class. That was nice of you to do. We had a great time.”
“Awesome. Did you get engaged, too?”
I stop in my tracks in front of the MRI room. “What? No. Why? I just went with a friend.”
“Ah, that’s cool. I was just messing with you, since Cassidy and I got engaged that night.”
“Because of the class?” I ask, resuming my pace toward the stairwell.
“Yes, and we owe you. That’s one of the reasons we wanted to thank you when we came by a few weeks ago. Your suggestion to take that cooking class was exactly what I needed. Something just clicked for me that night at Enticing Appetizers. I knew Cassidy was the one for me forever. And the next night I proposed.”
As an orderly pushes a med cart down the corridor, I back against the wall, giving him room. “Huh,” I say, taking in Kevin’s news. “So it all became clear?”
“Like crystal.”
I flash back to the night Josie and I attended the quirky class, and how we made our great escape, fleeing from Ivory and then rumbling uptown on the subway, heading home. How, there on the train, Josie rested her head on my shoulder and threaded her hand in mine.
And it was clear.
Then later at our house, she took care of me when I twisted my ankle.
And it was clear.
A part of me knew then. A part of me was damn sure that she felt the same wild and crazy way I did. And I didn’t say enough at the time to hold on to her. I didn’t go out on a limb.
I took the safe option, not the risky, daring, hallelujah one.
Something else is clear right now, too. I haven’t moved on. I’m not over her. And I definitely don’t want to be just friends with Josie.
I want to know I can text her about a goddamn tuna fish sandwich, and I want to send that message as her man. I don’t want to fire it off as her favorite guy friend. I want to tell her about the tuna, then take her out to dinner and wander around the city with her, hand in hand. After that I want to go home with her, fall into bed with her, and love her.
That’s what I wanted a few weeks ago when I moved out. My heart, for her, hasn’t changed.
But what’s crystal clear now is that the bigger risk isn’t losing her as a friend. The bigger risk is losing the woman I’m pretty damn sure is the love of my life.
“Hey Kevin, can you help me with something?” I ask, remembering the corporate name on his business card. The guy’s job might be just the ticket. He’s got to know people, right?