Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Second kiss?” she squeaked.
“Yes,” I admitted. “After his ex stalked off, Foster and I went down to the beach. I was still feeling some kind of way after the first kiss… and then he kissed me again.” I sank back into the pillow, covering my eyes with my forearm.
“Oh, honey. Was it just as good as the first?”
“Better,” I groaned. “El… it’s a disaster. I don’t think it was cheating, since I wasn’t the one who initiated the kiss… well, kisses. And I stopped him before it went further. But god, I didn’t want to stop.” I pulled my arm away from my face. “What does that say about me? About my relationship with Kari?”
“It says you’re not ready to marry her,” Ella replied simply.
I knew she was right, but the part of me that had planned out my whole life in careful stages and hated letting people down wasn’t quite ready to hear it.
“Or it says I’m just panicking about the wedding,” I countered, but the argument sounded weak even to my own ears.
“When he touched you,” Ella asked carefully, “how did it feel?”
I swallowed hard, remembering the sensation of Foster’s hands on my bare skin, of his lips on mine. While he’d been touching me, it hadn’t occurred to me that it should feel strange because Foster was a man. I’d been too consumed with how right it all felt.
“Like waking up,” I admitted quietly. “Like breathing mountain air after years in city smog.”
She was silent for a long moment. “You need to call it off, Tommy.”
“The entire Marian clan is flying in tomorrow. Kari’s family, too. The venue is booked, the flowers ordered, the—”
“All of that matters less than marrying someone you’re not in love with. Or, at least, not in love with the way you deserve to be.”
I closed my eyes, feeling tears threaten again. “Mom and Dad spent so much—”
“They’d spend twice that to keep you from making a mistake you’ll regret for the rest of your life. You know that.”
“I love Kari,” I whispered.
“I know you do,” Ella said carefully. “She’s been a part of your life since college. She’s familiar, and the two of you make sense on paper. But sometimes that kind of love isn’t enough. Sometimes you need the mountain air.”
When she spoke, her voice was softer and more gentle. Ella and I were the closest in age in our large group of cousins, but the reason we were so close was because she was an incredible listener and an all-around loving human.
But I still wasn’t quite ready to say out loud—or even in my own head—that she was right.
“You know…” I kicked off my shoes, propping my feet up on the bed. “Foster asked me why I wasn’t thrilled about anesthesia.”
Ella seemed to accept this conversational sidestep easily enough. “Because it’s boring as fuck when your patient is half-dead?” she scoffed. “Because you’re not passionate about anesthesia, and your heart is in emergency medicine?”
Memories of wild nights in the ER flooded my head. Challenging situations and the need to react on the fly. The adrenaline rush of saving someone, working as a team with others, and celebrating a job well done. Alternatively, sharing in the loss of a patient after doing our best to save them. But then having to jump right into the next challenge before processing the last.
“I do love emergency medicine.” That much I could admit.
“I know.”
I scowled. “But I can still practice anesthesia in the ER,” I said, feeling the same defensiveness I’d experienced when I’d told my mom I was considering going into anesthesia. “It’s a valid choice. A choice that has a lot more opportunity for career advancement.”
“True.” I could tell she was humoring me just like Mom had.
I threw my legs over the far side of the bed and sat up, running my fingers through my hair. “Besides, there’s no real money in emergency medicine. Still less in wilderness medicine.”
“Also true.” Ella threw herself down in the spot I’d vacated as I stood and began to pace. “And god knows we Marians could use the money.”
I ground my back teeth together. Our uncle Jude was a world-famous country music singer who’d made enough money to set up trust funds for all of his kids, nieces, and nephews. None of us needed to worry about keeping a roof over our heads or going without the basics.
I’d never been money-motivated, but I was competitive and high-achieving.
Winning was a rush. Doing the right thing, being the best—those things motivated me.
“Is this just cold feet?” I demanded, turning to face her. “Maybe it’s situational anxiety about all the big changes happening. Getting married. Double-boarding in anesthesia. And if so…”
“Tommy, do me a favor.” Ella sat up, her top knot listing precariously to one side now. “Don’t think about what you’ve been planning to do, or who you’re planning to marry, or who you want to kiss, or what gender anyone is. Put all of that out of your mind. Instead, tell me what you want your life to look like and the qualities of the person you want to share that life with. What are your ideal traits in a partner?”