Getting Real (Getting Some #3)(37)

“But that’s not enough, Tuni! She loved him with her whole heart, and it broke her when he didn’t come back. I saw it break her.”

Would I love Connor that much?

I think I would—eventually. I think one day I could love him so deep and so hard that I’d let him shatter me . . . as long as I still got to keep a piece of him.

“It wasn’t right,” I insist.

“No, it wasn’t right.” Tuni concedes softly. “But she could’ve chosen differently, Violet. She was strong enough to do that. But he was who she wanted—warts and all. Just because you’re like her doesn’t mean you’ll choose the same.”

Her words bring me back down, soothe my aching heart and ease my panic.

“Yeah,” I sniffle. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What’s going on with you Vivi? What’s the story, morning glory?”

Even though I was head of the household after my mother died, we don’t have a parental sort of relationship. I was the adult, but it was still a situation where the four of us were in it together. So now that Tuni’s all grown up, she’s my beloved sister, but also on my level—my dearest friend.

“There’s this guy . . . that I work with.” My voice lightens, the way it tends to whenever I talk about Connor. “He has three boys and he’s divorced and he’s gorgeous and funny and an incredible father. He’s perfect and I’ve liked him forever. And we got close . . . we became friends. Then we slept together—and it was amazing. More amazing than I could ever tell you.”

My heart expands with the sweet memories. And then it squeezes, like it’s being crushed in a stainless-steel, high-end juicer.

“But afterward, he didn’t react like I thought he would. He left while I was asleep and I haven’t heard from him since. I don’t know why and I don’t know what to do.”

Tuni’s quiet for a few moments.

Then she says, “Some men are complicated fuckers.”

I laugh, for the first time today.

“You said he’s divorced?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“Well, maybe he was overwhelmed by the power of your enchanted vajayjay? He could be gun-shy if he’s been burned before.”

I didn’t know Connor when he was married. His divorce was finalized before I moved to Lakeside. Though I know he’s dated—nurses talk—he hasn’t been in a serious relationship since his marriage ended. And according to Callie, even his one-off dates haven’t been experiences to write home about. Could it be that he’s just out of practice on post-sex etiquette?

“That’s true.”

“Or maybe something’s going on with one of his kids? He got the call and had to rush out the door without leaving a note. You know how that can be.”

I once had to rush out in the middle of a night class because Chrissy accidentally set the kitchen curtains on fire when she was cooking dinner. She’d put the fire out with the fire extinguisher, but I still had to get home to talk to the fire department and make sure everything was okay.

“I didn’t even think of that. I hope everyone is okay. The boys are great kids, but they’re still kids—definitely a handful.”

Slowly, the weight of being blown off by Connor starts to lift from my heart.

“He mentioned he was on at the hospital tonight, so I can go in early tomorrow morning for my shift and talk to him before he leaves.”

“There you go,” Tuni says. “Now you know what you’re going to do. And whatever happens, Vivi, just remember that you are a treasure. You’re so good at loving the people you care about—anyone who’s worthy of you is going to see that, feel it, and want to give all that love right back to you. It’s the law of balance—it’s science.”

I laugh again. “I love you, Petunia. Thank you.”

“I love you too, sis. Anytime.”


*

Early the next morning, I find Connor in the doctor’s lounge, at his locker.

Though his back is to me, I stand in the doorway for a moment, soaking in the sight of him. Because now that I know what he feels like above me and behind me—now that I know how the planes of his shoulder blades and his waist feel beneath my palms, his taste and his scent and his tantalizing sounds—I’m drawn to him even more. Like a sugar craving, an addiction: having a little just makes you want more.

I move up toward him as his fingers deftly turn the combination lock. My breath catches at the remembrance of what those fingers are capable of—how they stroked and teased, pinched and rubbed so exquisitely.

But I shake off the lust-fog and step up beside him.

“Hi, Connor!”

Inside, I cringe at the high-pitched cheeriness in my voice.

“Hey Violet,” he replies smoothly, the warm timber of his voice threatening to call forth another round of salacious memories.

But I push them away, asking, “How are you?”

“I’m good.” He smiles. “Terrific. It was a slow night. Just an infant with an ear infection, a couple sutures, and one case of chlamydia that was taken care of with a trusty shot of penicillin.”

“Super.”

“Yeah.”

Even though we’re alone in the room, I move closer and lower my voice.