Unbreak My Heart(40)

24





Holland



The clean, antiseptic scent excites me.

The feel of scrubs sends a little thrill through me.

And the prospect of taking temperatures, checking pulses, and helping those who need it turns me on.

Not in a sexual way.

In a professional way.

As I hand in the final set of paperwork to the head nurse a few days later, I can’t rein in the smile. I start my new job in a week, and I can hardly wait.

Harumi Ikeda looks up from her desk. “Thank you very much, Nurse St. James,” she says in Japanese.

I bow my head. “Thank you very much, Nurse Ikeda.”

She runs her finger over the paperwork, nodding as she checks the photocopies of my work documents.

When she’s finished, she raises her wrinkled and weather-worn face, her eyes tired behind her glasses. But she smiles too. “We are so glad to have you here. We hope you will be with us for a long time.”

Since the medical center sits in the business district, it attracts expats as well as English speakers on longer work assignments. My fluency in both languages is one of the reasons I snagged this plum job, a rare opportunity for someone who only has a year of experience.

“I hope I will be here for a long time too.”

After I finish, I leave the medical center and text my mom as I head to the street.



Holland: Loved seeing you and Dad the other day. Hopefully, we can do that again soon!





Mom: We want regular lunches. Maybe dinners too? London will be coming through Tokyo next month, so we must plan a fancy sushi dinner in early July.





Warmth rushes over me, and it has nothing to do with the late June weather and everything to do with how fantastic that night sounds. It sounds so great that I want Andrew to join us, like he used to when we were younger, hanging out with my parents and my sister. I’ll have to ask him if he can join us.



Holland: Activating plans for fancy sushi dinner with the family. ?





When I tuck my phone away and drop my shades over my eyes, the smiley-face feeling vanishes. Reality sinks in as I make my way through the midday business crowds.

I can’t believe I let my mind trick me into thinking I could simply invite him when I don’t know if he’ll be here or how long he’ll stay.

He can’t stay forever.

He probably can’t even stay much longer—he has a home, a business, and a dog in Los Angeles.

I have a great job and a family here.

History is repeating itself. The ending looms, but yet the time with him feels worth the inevitable end.

These last several days with him have been intense, wonderful, and hopeful. As I weave through the crowds, I replay my moments and nights with Andrew, starting with Ian’s death, when his life changed irrevocably.

Like a flip book, I see him in anguish, then stuck in a cruel sort of emptiness, spinning his wheels. But the images slowly shift, as if he shucked off the heavy cloak of grief when we stepped onto the plane.

Over here, I’ve seen him smile and laugh, tease and play. He’s become not only the man he was before, but a new man. He’s stronger and tougher, but kinder too. I see it in his eyes, in the little gestures, in how he talks to me, and how he talks to others. I notice it in his willingness to seek, his courage to find, and in how he’s enjoying the little things again—naming fish, debating capsule life, and flirting on trains.

Flirting off trains.

Flirting everywhere.

I can feel the changes in him—in his kisses. The way he kissed me by the vending machine last week made my heart spin round and round, and it tasted like candy and music rather than pain and sorrow.

I picture a whole new flip book—him coming to dinner with my parents, cooking noodles with me after work, and waking up tangled together on a lazy Sunday morning. We’d skip breakfast and have each other instead.

There’s so much I want to do with him: go to the movies, the arcade, baseball games, and karaoke. Then I want to bring him to my place, dim the lights, and let him kiss me madly, everywhere, the way only he can.

Yanking out my phone once more, I start a text to London.



Holland: You’d be proud of me. I haven’t rescued him. He’s saving himself.





But I don’t hit send. Because it sounds like I’m trying to prove something. I don’t need to prove Andrew to anyone. I know, deep in my heart and mind, he’s healing.

And it’s not because of me. I’ve been by his side, but I’ve given him the space he needs. He’s making huge strides, but I’ve made the little ones I needed to make too. I haven’t taken on all his burdens. He’s bearing them, and watching his heart heal piece by piece makes me fall harder and faster for the man he is today.

I don’t want to miss another chance in the present. I’ll take what I can get—some of him now, if he’ll have me. I’ll risk another heartbreak because he’s worth it.

I open his contact on my phone.



Holland: Hey, handsome. Want to go to the karaoke bar tonight?





25





Andrew



Something is in the air tonight.