Had to bail, shit came up.
Hit the bags Monday?
Disappointed that it wasn’t her, I felt like even more of a dick. Chase got back from Japan last week, but with work being insane and my focus on all things Talia, I hadn’t seen or spoken to him. Like creatures of habit, we sparred twice a week and had since we were kids. It was our thing. We saved the punch for each other and when the other wasn’t available, which was rare, we resorted to hitting the bags. It was our go-to release for pent-up frustrations. The fact that he bailed didn’t sit well.
Monday works.
I purposely left out I was across the country and not gonna make it anyway. Sort of happy I got out of the ‘I have to bail’ text. He never let me off the hook without twenty questions and that conversation—totally inevitable—wasn’t happening today. So I kept typing.
You alive??
Hate me??
Answered that one, twice if I remember correctly :)
And yes … still have a pulse...
Barely :(
She was too much, her and her sassy response.
Let me make it up to you.
Egg sandwiches make everything better.
U promising bacon?
Only girl I knew who appreciated bacon.
For you anything
Before I could think too hard about how honest that statement really was, the same California number from yesterday flashed on the screen. But instead of unknown, today it read TP Home.
“Hey, you, how are you feeling?” I whispered for both our sakes. But I really hoped she was up to another quick visit before I had to head home.
“Entirely too old to be feeling like this.” Wasn’t that the truth. Her voice was soft and a little raspy but infused with lighthearted humor. “If I drag myself out of bed and you don’t feed me crispy bacon, I’m never speaking to you again.” Yeah, like that was an option. “I’ll be there in an hour, that work?”
“You relax and stay put, bacon and eggs will come to you. Extra bacon, scout’s honor.”
“No, no.” She wasn’t whispering anymore. “It’s fine. I told you, my office is close to your hotel, and they have a great restaurant. I’ll just meet you there.” If I hadn’t dropped her off last night, I would have thought she was hiding where she lived. But that made no sense. Even in the pitch dark, I could tell she had a beautiful home.
“Whatever you want, Tal.” I meant it.
An hour and a half later, my head pain was down to a dull throb. But the ache in my pants only intensified when Tal strolled into the hotel lobby sporting dark grey yoga pants that made her legs look even longer and an off the shoulder long sleeve shirt with her black racerback sports bra showing. No crazy purse or bag, just keys attached to one of those small wallets dangling from her hand and a pair of oversized sunglasses that barely hid her bloodshot eyes. She left Dr. Pryce at home, while TP showed for breakfast. She was as low maintenance as I remembered back in the day, just ten times as beautiful.
I wrapped my arms around her, confident that a dozen or so drinks dissolved any awkwardness left between us. She folded in without hesitation. I inhaled the scent radiating from her damp hair, that smell was going to be the death of me. We were frozen like that for a few seconds before the humor of the moment hit us both. Long-lost friends, with a shitload of history and drama and a reunion resulting in killer hangovers. Her slim arms tightened against my back and vibrated from her laughter. What a sweet sound.
I kissed the crown of her head, then she headbanded her long blonde hair with her sunglasses. I loved when women did that.
“Come, let’s feed you some bacon.” I pinched her chin.
She squished her tiny little nose and said, “Think I might need hash browns, too.” She was so pathetically adorable I was ready to fry the potatoes myself.
A carafe of high test, two bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches, and a serious order of hash browns later, we felt human again. Talia even had color back in her cheeks.
Shaking her head, Talia chuckled to herself. “I haven’t felt like this or eaten like this since we were eighteen.”
Something about the way she said it, with a hint of sadness, I believed her. Granted I agreed that we were a little too old for the hangover half of the party, but we were only thirty-seven. And hell, after staring at her makeup-free face through breakfast she looked a good ten years younger than that. Made me wonder.
“Tal, don’t take this the wrong way, but I have to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“How is there not a ring on your finger?”
Her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, avoiding eye contact. “What?”
“You heard me. You’re drop dead gorgeous, with a body that should be legally banned from wearing yoga pants in front of men, all men, of every age because it’s just cruel. You’re a doctor for god’s sake, and hands down the coolest female I have ever had the privilege of knowing. And I know A LOT of women. So forgive me, but something’s not adding up. Women like you aren’t just waiting for Mr. Right to come along. Women like you have assholes like me lining up and selling their souls for a shot at being Mr. Right.”
“Umm … I don’t know what to say.” She looked dumbstruck, as if the thought had never crossed her mind. For fucking real? “That’s really how you see … me?”
“You have a mirror? You’ve looked in it lately? Yeah, Tal, that’s exactly what I see. And I’d bet my last dollar that every guy in this room thinks I’m a lucky fuck, just for sitting this close to you. So do me a favor, and please tell me that your naked finger has nothing to do with that schlepp I saw you with at the bar.” Screw it, it had to be said. It was the truth.
She nailed me with those caramel eyes, like she was considering her answer carefully. Then she reached her hand across the table to cover mine. “God, you have no idea how much I missed you.” Her voice cracking surprised me, but not as much as the tears that glistened behind her lids. Five star restaurant or not, I pulled her to her feet and lifted her up into a hug. Good or bad, it was a place that was becoming very comfortable.
I needed confirmation for my own peace of mind, so I whispered, “You’re saying the douche is a non-issue then.”
Her not-so-quiet sniffled laughter was answer enough. “Paul? Nah. He’s a colleague I’ve dated off and on, nothing serious. And yes, he’s a bit douchey, but no, he’s not the reason I’ve never been married.”
God help the “reason” if I ever meet him.
Dropping her back down, and enjoying her body slide against mine way too much, I broke our embrace to see my gorgeous friend smiling up at me. Friend. I needed to check my dick for two minutes and start acting like that friend. “So you going to fess up and tell me what the hell Pryce is about, because last time I checked, doctors didn’t need pen names?”
Tears gone, smile wide and shoulders high, she gently tapped my cheek. “I don’t remember you being this pushy. Are you this protective of all your friends?” There was that word again.
“The ones that matter.” Like you. She wasn’t just a friend; she was a best friend.