Perfectly Adequate(84)

“One more day is my sanity. So either you can remove it, or I will remove it, but it’s coming off now.”

With little resistance, he grabs his tools and removes my cast. “You might still need crutches.” I untie my right shoe from the crutch, slip it on, and loosely tie it. “Yup. Thanks. Bye.” I hobble toward the elevator and take it down to my office.

Me: Come to my office.

Dorothy responds quickly.

Can’t. Busy.

Me: It’s not a request. It’s an order.

Dorothy: You’re not my boss.

Me: Actually, I do have authority over you. So get your ass to my office!

She returns the middle finger emoji.

So … I wait. And while I wait, Julie messages me.

Just tell me you’re okay.

I feel bad. In spite of everything she did to me, I still feel bad. Julie is bipolar. She’s trying to put her life back together. And the fact that she wants me in it … well, the timing is just terrible.

Me: I’m okay.

And that’s it. That’s all she says to me. Once again, she’s making it hard to find myself in this life. She’s making it hard to hate her and easy to come back to our life. I’m just not sure if that’s still my life.

Knock. Knock.

“Come in.”

Dorothy opens the door. Pink scrubs, gray undershirt, gray Nikes, her hair pulled into a ponytail, and a scowl on her face. “You need to promise me right now that I won’t get fired for being in your office instead of where I’m supposed to be.”

“I promise.” Well, I’m ninety-nine percent sure she won’t get fired. I’ve been here long enough to have some pull.

Dorothy closes the door behind her and takes a seat, looking out the only window in my office, the one that has a great view of downtown Portland.

I lift both of my legs onto the desk so she can see that my cast is off. She makes a quick glance in the direction of my legs, then her gaze meets mine.

“You’re better. Good to know. I choose Roman. Go back to your wife. Are we good? Am I dismissed now?”

“No. We’re not good.”

She blows out a long breath. “If my grandfather would have chosen his mistress over my grandmother, my mother wouldn’t have been conceived. I wouldn’t exist. My father wouldn’t have found the woman he loves so much. I’m not a believer in fate, but I believe some things just make sense. You and Dr. Hathaway make sense. Giving Roman a home with both of his parents makes sense. We don’t make sense.”

“First…” I ease out of my chair, limping a bit to make it around the desk so I’m leaning back against it while standing in front of her “…we make sense. It’s nothing that can be put into words. I just know we make sense because I feel it. Second, you’re not my mistress. Julie divorced me. And you never would have been my mistress. I’m not that man.”

“But she wants you back.”

“And for a year after the papers were signed, she could have had me back. But then you walked into my life and changed that.”

“I didn’t.”

“Dammit, Dorothy!” I slam my hands beside me on the desk, and she startles. “You get to decide if you love me, if you want to be with me. But it’s not okay for you to make decisions for me and my life. But…” I lean forward, resting my hands on the arms of her chair “…if you love me, then be with me.”

Her forehead wrinkles as she clenches her teeth, emotion filling her eyes with unshed tears. I don’t want to hurt her. I want to love her. I can’t find my breath when I imagine her with anyone but me. It has to be me. She has to let me love her.

Drawing in a shaky breath, she brushes away a tear before it meets her cheek. “You’re going to remember me as the person who gave you back your life. That’s how I want you to remember me. Years from now you’re going to have a perfect life. A wife. Roman. Maybe even a little brother or sister for him. A dog. Possibly an emu of your own. Or an alpaca. And you’ll smile thinking about this moment when patient transporter, Dorothy Mayhem, insisted you not give up what is most likely your last chance at taking back your life … the perfect life. Can you do that? Can you remember me like that?”

“Don’t give up on me. Please …” I rest my forehead against hers and close my eyes.

Dorothy rests her hands on my cheeks. “I’m not. I’m your greatest warrior. I’m your Wonder Woman. I’m fighting for you when you’re too stupid and blind to see what’s right in front of you.”

“No.” I roll my forehead against hers. “You don’t get it. You’re the one who is too stupid to see it. You’re the one who will remember us, and you’ll see how you made the choice. Not me.” I grab her face the same way she’s holding mine. “Look at me.”

Dorothy forces her watery eyes to meet my gaze.

“This is your choice. It’s always been your choice. Because I made my choice the second I got into the backseat of your car.”

More tears roll down her face. “I choose Roman,” she whispers.

I press my lips to hers, holding her firmly to me, committing this feeling to memory. “He’s not yours to choose,” I whisper, releasing her and tearing my face from her grip.