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“Hey, someone’s gotta keep you grounded, right?”
The following weeks were the highlight of my young life. We hung out together, made out more than a few times, and were headed toward something more serious. At least, I think we were. We didn’t know that life had other plans for us. I didn’t know one day he would be gone, that his family would suddenly move to Tennessee without warning.
I didn’t have his number and he didn’t have mine. At first, I was upset, but then I decided not to dwell on it. I had nice memories of him and the time we’d spent together. Memories I never forgot.
7
LIZZIE
When I awake again, the sun is peeking through the edges of the thick blackout curtains. It’s hours later, and though I’ve had the best night of sleep in a long time, I’m disappointed to see that I’m still alone.
Checkout isn’t until noon, so I don’t have to rush to leave. I can take my time and wait to hear back from him. I read over Dillan’s note several more times before entering the number into my phone.
It won’t hurt to give him a call.
However, when I hit the green “CALL” button, the phone call doesn’t go through. With a frown, I try again. All I receive is a robotic female voice telling me “The number you have dialed is disconnected. Please check the number and try again.” When I look over the number again, I realize that his messy handwriting might have caused me to mix up the number. Unfortunately, no matter what combination I try, nothing goes through.
“Well, shit.”
With a huff, I drop the phone and the note.
I don’t know what I want to do. Aside from really wanting to see him again, the idea of being late for my day doesn’t appeal to me. His note says he’ll be coming back, but will he? I can’t call him, and I can’t confirm if that’s still the case.
As time slowly ticks by and Dillan still hasn’t returned, I know I’ve got a decision to make. Checkout is at noon. Either I could stay until the last possible moment, or I could face the music. Dillan isn’t coming back. At least not in time for me to see him again.
Is this what our paths are supposed to be like? Crossing for one night, only to go our separate ways the next day? It does seem to be a pattern with us.
A feeling of disappointment washes over me.
Deep down, I just want to get home. I change out of Dillan’s shirt and into my red dress from the night before. I try to tame my hair, so it isn’t entirely obvious what I’ve spent the evening doing. Though I’m sure it’ll be clear to the hotel staff when I leave the room wearing the same clothes I arrived in.
I think about keeping Dillan’s shirt—although part of me can’t help but feel like he’s stood me up.
Even with his hastily scribbled note, I start to doubt there really was an emergency, and consider that he might have ditched me. Maybe he wrote it so I wouldn’t feel bad. Or so things wouldn’t be awkward if we accidentally ran into each other again (on my next blind date). It’s a small thought in the back of my mind, brought on by old wounds of self-doubt and self-consciousness.
Then another thought enters my mind. It strikes me as odd that I didn’t hear it when he was notified. I’m pretty sure a doctor’s ringtone volume isn’t set to silent. Usually, with all that’s going on, my sleep is light, and I don’t rest easy.
I leave the note on the floor where I dropped it, and finish getting ready.
On my way out the door, I pause and pick up the note one last time before I crumple it up and throw it in the trash.
8
DILLAN
By the time the baby has been safely delivered, it’s hours later, and I’m so tired I can barely see straight.
In the moment when a difficult birth is happening, adrenaline pumps through my veins, and I don’t think of anything else but the task at hand. Now, however, all of that faded, and I’m quickly reminded of my lack of sleep. I want to crawl into bed and not get out for at least a day. Thankfully, the mom and her baby are healthy and doing well. Though the child is premature, she’s breathing on her own and still a good weight. A day or two in the NICU for standard monitoring, and then the family can take her home.
After changing out of my scrubs and washing up, I’m finally able to check my phone. There are no texts or voicemails. Considering it’s after eleven, I assume Lizzie would have gotten up and found my note by now. If I recall correctly, she told me she didn’t need to wake early and isn’t supposed to be at work until later in the day.
The thought of her lying in bed waiting for me is enough to give me a second wind of energy. I’m eager to get back—maybe have a fifteen-minute nap before taking her out to lunch. Images of the night before flash in my mind.
Her voice. Her smile. Her laugh. Her moans.
I’ve never met anyone so in tune with her body. The way she playfully moves is like an art. It’s clear she’s a hell of a lot more comfortable with herself than she was when we were teenagers, and that confidence is sexy as hell. I love a woman who knows what she’s about and isn’t afraid to take what she wants.
And those eyes. God, those eyes. They’re seductive and sexy, and when she’s turned on, golden flecks glint in their dark-brown depths. Everything about Lizzie is captivating.
