“Well, he is.” She laughed. “Or at least, he was. But that’s not necessarily because he’s a bad person. Simon thinks he doesn’t want kids, doesn’t want to settle down. He’s always said that. But I don’t truly believe him, because a lot of his actions contradict that. I think he’s just scared of hurting people or getting hurt—one or the other, maybe both.”
“Why?”
“He has his reasons. Not my place to talk about it, though.”
What does that mean?
I chose not to pry. “Okay.”
“But I can assure you of one thing,” she said. “Deep down, underneath all that brawn and wild personality…is a really decent human being. I don’t know exactly whether that makes him good boyfriend material or not, but Simon is certainly someone I would trust with my life.”I just kept fucking up.
First…it was the Adventures of Uncle Simon. Bridget was right. There was no way I wanted Brendan to become attached to me, only to be devastated when I moved.
Second was the issue of my attraction to Bridget. I hadn’t wanked off to anyone but her in weeks, and it was pissing me off. Every time I would try, the woman in my head would morph into her. What the fuck was wrong with me?
Third, I almost messed up and told her about Blake. We were having tea, and she’d asked me about my reasons for entering the medical field. I found myself really wanting to tell her, which was strange, because I normally avoided talking about it at all costs. But Bridget had a way about her that made you want to bare your soul. She emitted an air of motherly comfort or something that made me want to just place my head on her lap and tell her all of my secrets and woes. (And yes, my dirty mind did wander to some of the other things I could do with my head in her lap.) Anyway, I suspected she wouldn’t judge me. Especially since she knew a thing or two about devastating life circumstances. But I stopped myself, mainly because I really couldn’t risk opening up to her, getting closer to her. I needed to consider what would happen when my residency was over and I moved back to the UK, which was the plan all along.
So, lately, I’d been distancing myself a bit, just spending more time out of the house or at least when I was home, keeping to my own space. The problem was: I was physically distancing myself, but mentally still focusing on her. I missed her and if I was being honest…Brendan, too.
Feeling frustrated, I spent my morning off at the yoga studio, arse-gazing until Calliope finished her class.
Helping myself to the smoothie station, I sliced up some fruit and vegetables and blended a concoction as she pulled up a stool to join me.
I spoke through the blender. “Care for some pineapple banana spinach flaxseed Nutella shake?”
“No, thank you.” She cut right to the chase. “So, you told Bridget that we used to date…”
I suddenly stopped mixing the smoothie. “She mentioned it to you?”
“Yes. She called me the other night, wanted to know why I’d never relayed that information.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I just reiterated how long ago it was, but I think she might have been a little…jealous. I could sense it.”
“What else did she say?”
“Nothing, really.”
“Come on. Don’t hold back on me, Calliope. Don’t forget I can tell when you’re lying.”
“I’m going to go to hell for this, but she said she’s very attracted to you.”
Fuck. Me.
It wasn’t like I couldn’t sense that already, but getting that confirmation was something entirely different.
I swallowed. “She did?”
“Yes.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“Not really. I think she’s confused about you. And to be honest, aside from assuring her that you’re a good person, I didn’t really know what to say because I don’t know what you’re doing, Simon. I will say this: that woman is not someone you have a quick fling with. I don’t think she’s capable of that.”
“You’ve said that before, and you’re not telling me something I don’t already know.”
“Do you have feelings for her?”
“This was just supposed to be a simple living arrangement. I wasn’t supposed to have feelings.”
She crossed her arms. “That’s not really an answer, but now I’ve drawn my own conclusion, thanks.”Sexual frustration can turn ugly at times.
Bridget and I hadn’t seen much of each other aside from the shifts we were on together, which were unavoidable.
During one of those days, we’d gotten into a fierce argument over my deciding to prescribe a particular type of antibiotic for a patient.
Bridget followed me out of the examination room. “You’re overprescribing. She’ll become resistant. It’s clear to me that she doesn’t need another round. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I turned around fast, startling her. “Well, it works out that you’re not me, then, doesn’t it? Last I checked I’m the doctor in this situation.”