Paradise by the Dashboard Light Page 6

  John stands up and walks to me. He lifts my shirt, revealing my abs. "He's got a reputation to uphold."

  Quickly I yank my shirt back down and pretend I don't notice her eyes growing wide. "Enough, John. Ri, help yourself to anything. Better yet, let me get you set up. You gonna stay out here or in the bedroom?"

  "Um, I guess in the bed, if that's okay?" she asks tentatively.

  I nod in agreement and then hurry about getting the things she might need. Ibuprofen, B-12, mouthwash, and a glass of ginger ale. I bring some crackers too, in case she wants to eat something, but I think the sleep will do her more good than anything.

  I'm setting it up on the nightstand for her when she shuffles back into the room, pulling the much too large pants up. She looks at the spread I've put out and gives me a small smile.

  "Thanks, Ian. You don't have to do all this. I'm fine."

  "I know you are, but do you have anything else to do today? If not, sleep for a while longer, and then maybe we can finally get those eggs we talked about last night." I give her a hug and then kiss the top of her head. I don't know why, but I can't seem to stop touching her. I mean I do know why, and it's growing in my shorts.

  I don't know what's going on here, but I have a feeling it's going to get complicated.

  Quickly.

  Chapter 9

  Rio

  Why the hell do I stay at Ian's?

  Maybe it's because I know we should catch up. Maybe it's because I know we have unfinished business to dig through before I can move on. Or maybe, and this one is the strongest contender, I just want to sleep.

  I look at the spread on the bedside table. Is it because he's a doctor? Is it because he cares about me? Is he trying to make himself look good in front of his friend? I don't know and thinking about it is making my head hurt more. Once I go to the bathroom and make use of the mouthwash, I take the pills. I'm not even sure what they are but Ian must know what he's doing. Washing some crackers down with the soda, I nestle back into Ian's bed and try not to think about the past while waiting for sleep to arrive.

  When I was little, I used to dream of the day that I'd come home from school and my father would be back. There wouldn't be any hard feelings or hurt. We'd have family dinners and things wouldn't be scary. In my childhood fantasy, my dream family worked a lot like the McCallister family.

  But it was a dream. He never came back. Even without his presence, the hurt and resentment remained, heavy like a cloak over our house. On more than one occasion, usually after Rainne had caused some sort of trouble, dragging me down with her, my mom would curse us out. "And I'm the one stuck here dealing with you. Someone had to do it, and he left before I could." She'd also throw in wonderfully reassuring lines like, "Don't have kids. They just ruin your life."

  But the McCallisters showed me that parents could love and want their children, and because of that, I still dared to dream.

  About Ian and me.

  As I think about what could have been, sleep finally washes over me.

  The next thing I know, there are voices in the living room. I have no idea how long I've been asleep. I will not read into the fact that I'm sleeping here. It's not like it's the first time. I mean, we used to have sleepovers all the time when we were little.

  Then I remember what his abs look like now. We're not little anymore. My face grows warm thinking about his six-pack. It's not the only place where warmth is spreading.

  No, no, no, no. I need to get out of here and far, far away from Ian McCallister before I get sucked back into his web of charm. It would have been one thing to have a drunken one-night hook up, but that ship sailed. I have got to get out of here before I accidentally sleep with him again.

  But then I smell it. Food. Delicious, frying food. My stomach growls.

  He's cooking for me.

  I stumble out of Ian's bed for the second time today and make my way to the kitchen. He's at the stove, still damp with perspiration from his run, working away at a skillet. His sneakers are untied, and he's wearing an apron.

  I think an ovary just exploded.

  In another world, in a parallel universe, I'd walk up behind him and put my arms around his trim waist and then I'd kiss the back of his neck. Maybe even lick it. He'd turn around, his lips on mine, molding his body into me. Every fiber of my being would yearn for him, and he'd respond in kind. Then with achingly slow pleasure, he'd slowly press himself into me and—

  "Rio!"

  I startle and blink, trying to erase that daydream—fantasy—from my mind. "Huh? What?"

  "Are you feeling better? Your color looks better."

  "Oh, yeah. Thanks." I continue standing there like a boob. I'm pretty sure this is why Ian has never seen me as anything but a friend. I'm such a moron when he's around. There was certainly something to be said for the liquid courage I'd employed last night. If only I'd been able to close the deal before tossing my cookies.

  "I'm going to put the potatoes in the oven to crisp them up while I go take a shower. Do you mind giving me a hand?" He starts walking down the hall, with me following closely. He doesn't realize I'm behind him as he strips off his shirt.

  Holy shit.

  My mouth goes dry and my feet instantly freeze. Would it be inappropriate to lick him?

  Ian stops and turns. "What are you doing? I don't need your help in the shower."

  "Oh, I thought maybe you'd need a bit of help with your back." WHY DID I JUST SAY THAT? I am such an idiot.

  A wide grin spreads over his face and his eyebrow cocks up just so. "I'm good. Thanks."

  "Right. Of course. I knew that. What do you need me to do in the kitchen? I presume that's where you actually need the help."

  "Can you keep an eye on the potatoes and take the eggs out of the fridge. If you feel like whipping some, that'd be great. I'll be out in a minute." He pauses. "Clean back and all."

  I'm a dumbass. I'm a dumbass. Why am I such a dumbass? I mean, it would have been one thing to say something like that last night when I was drunk and dressed in my power clothes. Hell, I'm in his clothes. Nothing less sexy than that.

  I should just leave while he's in the shower. On the other hand, he's charged me with watching the potatoes. I don't want them to burn or his apartment to catch on fire. Plus, I am starving, and they smell good.

  That's why I'm staying. Because I'm hungry.

  Nothing more.

  

  Ian

  I am such an idiot. Her comment about helping me in the shower took me by surprise. I sort of got the impression last night that maybe an advance wouldn't be rejected, but I figured that was because she was drunk and looking to score.

  Why would she want to have sex with me? Rio was never into me like that. She's been my friend my whole life. Well, except these past ten years. After everything went down with Rainne, I lost Rio too. I figured we'd still keep in touch. But instead she disappeared.

  It doesn't sound like she goes back to Ohio much. Whenever Mom gives me updates, it's always about Rainne and the kids. I think she has at least three now. As much as her betrayal hurt, once again I am thankful she'd insisted on being safe with me. I will always wonder why she threw caution to the wind later that night with Travis Nichols.

  I shake my head, like I want to dislodge the memories. If there were ever a way to damper my seemingly ever-present arousal around Rio, it would be remembering that night with Rainne.

  It’s been years since I’ve thought much about her. For a long time, I had unanswered questions, though they no longer seem important. Obviously, Rainne wasn't right for me then, and our paths certainly have diverged. Although I used to wonder why she didn't break up with me first like any normal human being would do.

  Why did she wait until I told her I loved her? Maybe that freaked her out and that's why she did what she did with Travis. Still, it was a crappy way to end the relationship.

  I hop out of the shower and towel off as quickly as possible. I throw on some sweats and
another T-shirt. Rio is standing in front of the oven, staring into it as if mesmerized by its magical baking power.

  "Hey, they look crispy yet?" I cross to the opposite side of the counter where the eggs are sitting.

  "Oh, yeah, I think. Want me to take them out?" She's still staring into the oven, transfixed.

  "Thanks. How do you want your eggs?"

  "Fertilized."

  I drop the egg I'm holding as Rio lets out a little squeal. Before I can turn around, she's running to the bedroom. I step around the broken egg and pull on the oven mitts before removing the potatoes from the oven. I figure she’ll come back in a moment, and we'll laugh about this whole thing. But then I hear the door slam shut. Oh crap, she's leaving! In my attempt to rush after her, I turn quickly and slip in the egg on the floor behind me and go down. Hard. I try to ignore the popping sound my knee makes or the intense pain that engulfs my right leg.

  I manage to pull myself to my feet, fighting through a wave of nausea and the urge to black out.

  All in all, this has not been my best morning.

  Chapter 10

  Rio

  I'm going to have to move. That's the only logical thing to do. I cannot chance running into Ian ever again. Fertilized.

  Fertilized?

  How could I have said that? My Uber ride home feels like the longest in the history of walks of shame. I don't do walks of shame. I own my sex life.

  I can't even begin to describe what this is. Embarrassment for one. Mortification may be a better term. Of course, the last thing I need when I walk through the door, carrying my clothes and shoes from last night, is the judge and jury of my roommate.

  "Did you go home with Ian?" There's no greeting. No concern for my whereabouts.

  "Yes."

  "You know he just broke up with Trisha, like the day before. Trisha is one of my best friends. I mean, it's going to be hard enough that we all have to work together with the two of them, but now you have to get involved. It makes it more complicated."

  I sink wearily on the couch, letting my clothes drop to the floor around me. "It really has nothing to do with me."

  Beth is pacing around like a wild animal. "How can you say that? You knew who he was all this time?" Her voice raises several octaves and my headache threatens to return based on the noise alone. "What am I supposed to say to Trisha?"

  "You can start by telling her it's none of her goddamn business where I spend my nights. Secondly, if you are all so worried about how it's going to be to work with someone you slept with, I'd suggest not screwing your co-workers. You know, the old 'don't shit where you eat' philosophy. Thirdly, and not that I need to justify myself to you, but I've known Ian since the day I was born. We'd lost touch the past few years, but my going home with him last night has nothing to do with him and Trisha."

  My tone is much harsher than I intend. Ian has always put me on the defensive. I guess it's nice to know the more things change, the more they stay the same. Nonetheless, I apologize to Beth. "Sorry. I didn't mean it to come out like that. Things are ... complicated. But really, nothing happened, so you don't need to tell Trish anything."

  "So, like, you've really known him forever?"

  That's what Beth gloms onto? Whatever. "Yes. We were born in the same hospital on the same day. His mom babysat us. We went to school together. He was one of my best friends. The four of us were always matched up because … well, people thought it was cute."

  "The four of you? I don't understand."

  "I'm a twin, which I told you last night. So is Ian and his brother Evan. The hospital delivered two sets of twins within rapid succession. People always thought it was cute to match us up. Plus my mom never had her shit together and Mrs. McCallister sort of helped us out."

  "So did you and Ian date?"

  I want to kick myself for bragging to the girls last night about how Rainne and I switched places. That's a two and two I don't need her putting together. Beth is quite perceptive. "No, but we were always very close. I was close with Evan too."

  "He's got special needs, right?"

  "Yes." I don't want to say anymore. I've been defending Evan my whole life. Time and distance hasn't changed that impulse.

  Beth sits down on the loveseat and leans back. "I think that's why Ian has such a cult following at the hospital. His whole story. Going into neonatology so he can prevent what happened to his brother from happening to anyone else. It's certainly not his self-righteous personality."

  Obviously, I didn't know that. Well, I knew about the self-righteous part. But, he always said he wanted to find a cure for what happened to Evan, but I thought that was just tough-guy talk. Here he is, really doing it. It's admirable. Damn, it's sexy.

  "Well, he wouldn't have passed high school chemistry without my tutelage so you're all welcome for that. I gave you Dr. McCallister on a platter." I don't know why I add this, as I certainly don't owe Beth or Trisha any explanation, but I can't seem to help myself. "I puked and passed out there. That's all. I'd had way too much to drink, and Ian kept me out of trouble."

  "But you're wearing his favorite sweatshirt. We make fun of him for how often he wears it. He'd never even let Trisha touch it."

  I look down at the faded scarlet lettering, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through me. "Oh, well, I put it on. He wasn't in the room. I guess he was too polite to say anything about it." I keep it to myself that I was the one who gave it to him. "And I didn't get Ian's number or anything, so I'm pretty sure we're not even going to stay in touch. If Trisha asks, you can tell her that. I don't even go home ever so it's not like we're going to see each other there either. It's done."

  Beth nods. "I guess. I ... I didn't picture Ian moving on so quickly."

  My stomach clenches a bit. Did I do the wrong thing going home with him? Is Beth mad at me? This is why I don't like groups. I mean, I just met most of these people.

  I stand and pick my clothes up from the floor. "I don't know about moving on, but sleeping with each other probably doesn't help. Don't you guys watch Grey's Anatomy?"

  The glib retort surprises me as it leaves my mouth. What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I being such a bitch? God, seeing Ian has lowered my I.Q. a few dozen points.

  Thankfully, Beth laughs. "I know, right? We work such crazy hours that not a lot of people outside the hospital understand. I mean the fact that I've got two nights off in a row is huge. I love these weeks, but know I'll pay for it later on."

  "I can only imagine. I put in a lot of long hours sometimes, but I'm always home in my bed at night. I don't think I'm cut out for your type of schedule."

  "It's got it pluses and minuses for sure. But it does make dating difficult."

  "So is everything like a big episode of a General Hospital?" I binged on the soap opera during my college days.

  Beth laughs. "Medically speaking, not even close. Drama wise? Some days absolutely, I mean minus the people coming back from the dead and all. We don't all work in the Emergency Department at the same time, although I think we've all done our turns covering. Add a bunch of overly confident, overly tired twenty-somethings, and there's a lot of, well, fraternizing, going on."

  I laugh as I return to my room to check my email and start planning for the Caparazzo account. A large gurgle in my stomach makes me realize I still haven't had anything to eat, with the exception of some crackers. Focus won't happen on an empty stomach. I take a quick shower and get dressed in my own clothes. I don't know that I'll ever be able to eat eggs again, so I head to the grocery store to get some sandwich fixings. I'll do salads at lunch all week, but I need a little protein right now.

  Returning to an empty, dark apartment, I realize I was gone a lot longer than I'd expected. Beth's left a note: Got called into work. See you in a few days.

  That was nice of her. I mean it's not like I'd expected us to braid each other's hair and paint our toenails tonight, but I didn't expect to feel empty either. Looks like I'm on my own again tonight.

 
; The sadness is unexpected.

  And quite unwanted.

  

  Ian

  "Seriously, Dev?"

  "Seriously, Ian. You tore your ACL."

  "Grade one?" I ask hopefully, knowing it's not a grade one sprain. It's a grade three which is a complete tear and only treatable with surgery.

  Dev shakes his head. "Three."

  "MCL? Meniscus?" I want to know if the other ligaments in the knee are compromised as well. If they are, it'll be longer for the recovery.

  "They look okay on the MRI, but I'll double check when I get in there."

  "Twelve weeks?"

  "Probably not. About six out of work. Perhaps four. Maybe you can use a wheelchair or something. You're definitely out for a few weeks. If you were in outpatient right now, I'd say two, but since you're in hospital, it might be longer."

  I know my friend will do a good job on my knee, but this is not what I need right now.

  "Why don't you head home and rest up? Be back for six a.m. Nothing to eat or drink after midnight and needless to say, you'll need someone to take care of you for a day or two."

  "Yeah, that's going to be a problem." I look down at my leg in the blue and white immobilizer. "I don't think I can manage this on my own."

  "Why? Can't Trisha help you out?"

  "No, probably not. I'm guessing she's not feeling too benevolent toward me right now."

  "Why not?" Dev's brow furrows as he's furiously typing away on his laptop. I'm sure he's inputting my information to get the O.R. for tomorrow morning.

  "We broke up Friday."

  "Crappy timing on your part."

  "All of this is crappy timing on my part. Not only that, but I live in a fifth floor walk up."

  "Yeah, well you've got to figure that out. Here are your crutches, and I'll see you in the morning. I've called in a prescription for painkillers if you need them now. You'll definitely need them after. Watch out for those eggs!" Dev laughs as he leaves the room.