The Problem with Forever(12)

“Oh no,” I whispered, hoping she didn’t lose the patient. If you Googled the word strong, I swear Rosa Rivas appeared beside it, but she felt every patient’s loss like it was a family member. It was the only time I saw her drink. She’d take a bottle of wine and disappear into the study, doors closed until Carl coaxed her out.

I always wondered if it was because of Marquette or if every doctor was that way. Marquette had passed away five years before the night I entered their lives, so they were coming up on a decade since her death, but I knew that couldn’t have made their loss any easier to bear.

“These things happen,” Rosa said with a sigh. “Carl is going to be late. There’re leftovers in the fridge.”

I nodded. Both of them worked at Johns Hopkins, where cardiac surgery was actually created—something I’d learned from them. Hopkins was one of the best hospitals in the world, and when they weren’t in surgery, they were heavily involved in the teaching programs.

She hesitated, glancing down at the still-muted call. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay?” Her dark eyes held mine for a moment and then she sent me a quick, fleeting smile and started to turn.

“Wait,” I said, surprising the crap out of myself as she faced me, eyes wide. My cheeks heated. “What...does no la mires mean?” I’d totally butchered the words like a typical white girl who couldn’t speak any form of Spanish would.

Her brows shot up again. “Why are you asking that?”

I raised my shoulders.

“Did someone say that to you?” When I didn’t answer, because I was no longer sure I wanted to know what it meant, she sighed. “It basically translates to don’t look at her.”

Oh.

Double oh.

She narrowed her eyes at me, and I had a feeling that was what we’d be talking about tomorrow morning. Giving her a wave, I hurried out of the kitchen and hit the stairs two at a time.

My bedroom was at the end of the hall, overlooking the street, and next door to the hall bathroom I used. Rosa had once called it a decent-sized space. I considered it a palace. It fit a full-size bed, a wide dresser and desk. The window seat in the bay window was my favorite. Great for people-watching.

The best thing about this room—and I always felt terrible for feeling this way—was that it hadn’t belonged to Marquette. It was hard enough driving her car and contemplating the college major that had once been her dream. Sleeping in her old bed would’ve been too much.

Dropping my bag on the bed, I grabbed my laptop off the desk and wiggled into the corner of the window seat, placing the soda on the ledge. As soon as the computer popped out of hibernation mode, my instant messenger dinged.

Ainsley.

Her profile icon was from the summer—her blond hair streaked by the sun and oversize sunglasses covering half her face. She was giving the camera some pretty hardcore duck face. Her message read:

You make it out alive?

I grinned as I shot her a short yes.

How was it?

Biting down on my lip, I closed my eyes briefly and then I typed out what I’d been dying to scream from the top of my lungs.

Rider is at my school.

My laptop immediately blew up with a long strand and different variations of OMG that flowed into an endless stream of geeeeeeee. Ainsley knew about Rider. She knew about how I grew up. Not everything, because some things weren’t any easier to type out than they were to speak about, and she also understood that I sometimes wasn’t the most talkative person. But she got what a big deal this was.

You haven’t seen him in 4 years. I’m about to pee my pants, Mal!!! This is so epic. Tell me everything!

Still nibbling on my lip, I typed out a recap and was periodically interrupted by her OMGs and squees. When I was finished, Ainsley shot back:

Tell me you got his #?

Uh. I didn’t get his number, I typed back. He took mine.

That appeared to be acceptable to her and we chatted until she had to go. Ainsley’s online activity in the evenings had been limited after her mom discovered the pictures she’d been sending her boyfriend, Todd, back in July. They weren’t even that bad, just her in her bikini, but her mom had freaked out with a capital F and had, much to my amusement and horror, made Ainsley watch videos on childbirth as a form of sex ed.

Needless to say, Ainsley was positive she would never have children but that hadn’t stopped her and she was still super interested in sex.

She signed off after making me promise we would see each other this weekend. I spent the rest of the night puttering around the house aimlessly, too riled up to eat much of Rosa’s leftover chicken even though it had been baked in slices of orange and lime. I tried not to think about school or Rider or stare at my cell phone because it had been silent all afternoon and evening, but it was nearly impossible to keep my mind off those things because, holy crap, today had not gone the way I’d expected.

I mean, I didn’t end the day in tears, rocking in the corner somewhere, and even though I’d failed at lunch, I’d managed to speak to Keira. Seven words were better than none. I’d passed my first day without any major breakdowns. That was something to feel good about, and I did, but...

I didn’t know what to think when it came to Rider.

Pacing in front of my bed, I idly ran my hand over the slightly raised skin of my inner arm. That overwhelming mix of desperation and anticipation swirled inside me. I was excited to see him, to talk to him again, but I... God, it was hard to even really think about, because when I thought about Rider, another emotion festered inside me.