Lost in La La Land(47)

“You said you were a neurologist and I saw all the books downstairs,” he offered sheepishly.

“Neuroengineer,” I whispered as I turned, tears flooding my eyes. No more words left my lips, just breath in bursts.

“That is the response I was going for.” He beamed, folding his arms across his chest. He smiled in a way, the way I had wanted him to from the moment we’d met. He lost all the hardness and bitterness.

“Th-thank you,” I stammered.

“You are more than welcome, Emma.” His eyes glistened for a moment too as he said my name so softly. “I hoped this would make you ladies feel better. So random, two people with cancer being together. Did you meet at the hospital?”

“No.” I chuckled through the tears. “No. We aren’t together. Just friends. Sisters even.”

His eyes widened. “You aren’t married?”

“No.” I laughed harder, gripping my side as a stitch hit.

“I think everyone here sort of thought . . .” He laughed too, wiping one of his eyes dry. “It doesn't matter. I’m glad you’re on the mend and this library suits you. Wanna see the medical room now?” He grinned.

“Please, lead the way.” He offered me his arm, suddenly less standoffish. Maybe less afraid of me now that I was no longer the dreaded small-town lesbian dying of cancer.

He led me back down the stairs to the second floor as I wiped my eyes. At the far end of the hall, the one we hadn’t gone down yet, he opened a lock with a key. “I put a lock on this one.” He handed me the key as he opened it and swung the double doors wide. The office was ten times nicer than the one I’d had before, very modern and sleek with white countertops and two beds. It had shelves and units for all our equipment and a bathroom with a shower off the back. There were no windows and the lights were dimmed.

“This is wonderful. Thank you.” I reached up and placed a small kiss on his cheek. “This means the world to me.”

“You’re welcome, Emma.”

I realized then, I didn't even know his first name. “What is your name? I always call you Mr. Daley.”

“Mike.” He took my hand and shook it delicately. The calluses and toughness to his hands felt foreign against my own. I had never shaken hands with a man who was so weathered. But his hands lost my focus as the expression in his eyes altered. The softness of the honey-brown eyes became inviting, almost as if asking to be stared into.

He had the sort of smile that could go either way. It could be gentle and sweet or sarcastic and rude. I wouldn't have ever crossed him or wanted to see him angry, which I imagined he was frequently in his line of work. But to see him become soft and kind was like being around a pet bear. He was a gentle giant.

He led me back downstairs as his men put plastic up, sealing off the upstairs from the main floor. “So you ladies will be gone now, for three weeks?”

“We will be.” I nodded. “We will be back when the main floor is finished.”

“We shouldn't even be three weeks. Our crisis timeline, where we add in the extra time for the unexpected, hasn't been used. We were four days faster on the roof and top floor. I’m optimistic.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you for giving us the chance to work here. I’ve always wanted to fix this old place up. I drive by it a lot. My wife”—he flinched—“ex-wife, used to want to buy it and make a bed and breakfast. She always said she would call it the Lost in Time Inn.” He chuckled.

“You’re divorced?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“No, she passed before the divorce was finalized.” He scowled. “It was a car accident. Kind of random.”

“Mine died in a fire,” I offered, opening my chest and comparing scars.

“Fire?” He winced. “You were married?”

“Yes. My husband had an aneurysm in a fire.” I shook my head. “Also random. He went back inside the burning house for my dog and suffered an aneurysm. The firemen said he died before he hit the ground.” I had never spoke of that part. “I always wanted to believe it was my fault for letting him go in after the dog, but the truth is, he would have died on the grass in front of me if he hadn’t been in the house, I suppose sparing me that moment.”

“Emma, I’m so sorry,” Mike spoke with understanding. “I don't know exactly how you feel, but I can relate. I always thought that if we hadn’t gotten a separation, if I’d been a better husband, I would have been driving. I wouldn't have fallen asleep. I can drive for days without sleep.”

“I’m sorry, Mike.”

He sighed. “Guess we’re two peas in a fucked-up pod.” He pointed at the front door. “I better get going though. The guys want a midway celebration. Have a nice trip, Emma,” he bid politely, sounding so different from the man I met originally. Even looking it.

I sauntered into the office where Lana slept, and sat in the chair, surprised by everything the past fifteen minutes held.





Chapter Twenty-One


My entire body felt alive and rejuvenated.

I sighed and pinned my hair, catching myself smiling in the mirror for no reason.

I felt like a schoolgirl, crushing on someone. The memory of his lips and hands and thrusting body changed my breath. It hitched and rushed from my parted lips as I swallowed hard and relived it all.