Perfectly Adequate(91)
I drop the towel in my other hand and grip her hip, inching my hand up to her breast. It’s not familiar. It’s larger than it was when I last touched her like this. And much larger than Dorothy’s breasts, which I miss.
Julie’s fingers trace my erection along the outside of my shorts. I’m clearly turned on, and that’s good for us. I just really don’t know if it’s Julie or memories of Dorothy.
It doesn’t matter.
This is my life now. I will embrace it.
I will love it.
Blocking all other comparisons from ruining this moment, I walk us to the bed. We don’t rush anything, like there’s a need to get reacquainted, a need to let our bodies find their old rhythm. Our arms and legs tangle together on the bed as we continue this slow kiss. I remove her shirt and bra.
Julie sucks in a deep breath and holds it, eyes filled with apprehension and regret as I stare at her new body. She doesn’t say it, but I know she’s feeling a certain amount of shame for not loving herself the way I always loved her. For thinking something about her was less than perfect. But perfection changes and so does how we view ourselves. And that’s … okay.
Just as I get ready to say something comforting, we turn our heads toward the door and the sleepy-eyed boy with vomit down the front of his jammies.
“Oh, buddy!” I climb off the bed as Julie quickly covers her chest.
“My tummy …”
“Yeah, let’s get you cleaned up,” I say.
He cries a little then heaves, but I don’t get out of his way quick enough to keep the vomit from landing on me. Without giving a second thought to what was about to happen before Roman got sick, we clean up the mess and tuck him into bed between us with a big bowl for any more messes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Oops …
Dorothy
“What are you doing?”
“Jesus!” I jump at the sound of Dr. Warren’s voice. “Don’t scare me like that.”
He tosses his lunch wrappers in the garbage. “I ate my lunch, watching you pace a six-foot strip for the past fifteen minutes. What’s up?”
“Nothing is up.” I force myself to stand still, shoving my hands into the pockets of my scrub top.
Fifteen minutes. Fuck … my break is up.
No. This is a good thing. I need to work. Work is good. I should think about work.
“Haven’t seen you lurking around the lab as much. Does this have anything to do with the reconciled Hawkins-Hathaway duo?” Warren tips his chin up, eyeing me with suspicion.
“Oh. So the rumors are true? They’re back together?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah …” he says slowly.
“Good. That’s great. Just as it should be.”
Then the breakup and subsequent thirty-two journals used to sort out my thoughts weren’t all for nothing. It’s a silver lining. Silver linings are good.
Roman has his parents back together. That is all that matters to me.
Sort of …
“How many cups of coffee have you had today, Mayhem?”
“One. Why?” I stop myself from pacing again. When did I even start pacing again?
He chuckles, pressing the button to the elevator. “No reason.”
“He’s happy. Right?”
Dr. Warren pauses, holding open the elevator doors. “Sure. I mean. They’ve all had gastrointestinal issues or food poisoning, vomiting-diarrhea shit stuff going on over the past three weeks. But I think everyone has recovered.”
“That’s good. Just in time for the holidays!”
He laughs again before stepping onto the elevator. “Sure.”
“Wait!”
The doors close before I can stop them. I need to get back to work. My shaky finger pushes the button.
“Hi.”
I look over my shoulder. “Hi.” I practically choke on that one word as Dr. Hathaway gives me a polite smile.
The elevator doors open again, and I rush onto it, which is stupid since she’s getting on as well. It’s not like I can really run from her.
She presses the button to the sixth floor. Fantastic. That’s where I’m going as well.
“How have you been?” she asks, and it feels real and kind. Not like she found out I had sex with Eli in the on-call room five weeks ago.
Not that I’m counting.
“Fine. I heard you’ve all been sick. Sorry. Hope it’s all good now.”
“Yeah.” She shakes her head with a bit of relief. “That wasn’t a lot of fun.”
“I’m sure not.” I reach into my pocket as my phone vibrates. When I pull it out, the other things in my pocket come out as well, dropping to the floor. “Crap.” I bend down at the same time Julie does.
My hand goes for the wad of tissue (because I don’t want her to touch my dirty tissues). She grabs a folded up ten-dollar bill and the one thing I really should have snatched up before her—but I didn’t.
We stand at the same time, both of our gazes affixed to the pregnancy test in her hand. My pregnancy test. The one I took in the cafeteria bathroom twenty-five minutes ago.
The doors open and she slips the test into the pocket of her lab coat. Like … what the fuck? That’s my test!