When people ask me why I became a doctor, which is quite a common question, I give them the quintessential answer: I want to save lives. I want to make a difference. I like helping people.
It’s all bullshit.
I became a doctor because I love adrenaline.
Of course, the other answers are true as well. But the main reason is adrenaline. I love being the difference between a life or death situation. I love the rush I get when my skills are put to the test against a rapidly failing organ. I love the satisfaction I get when I win.
I was born competitive.
But there’s a difference between being competitive and being in competition with someone else. I’m not competitive against other doctors or other people. I’m only competitive against myself. I’m in a constant battle to improve my own skillset in everything I do, whether that’s in the operating room, jumping out of an airplane, or being the absolute best father I can be to Justice. I’m always on a quest to be a better me tomorrow than I was yesterday. It’s never been about competing with anyone other than myself.
Until this moment. Because in this particular moment, I find myself hoping Ridge doesn’t measure up to me. I haven’t even met him yet, but I’ve never been in a situation where I’m about to meet the ex-boyfriend of the girl I’m interested in. It’s not something I was prepared to do today. Or ever. When I started dating Chrissy in high school, I was her first legitimate boyfriend. I was her first kiss. Her first date. Her first everything. And considering we spent more than ten years together after that, I’ve never had to deal with feeling competitive with another man.
I’m not sure I like it.
When Maggie mentioned Ridge for the first time on our date, she talked about how he met someone else while he was dating her, which is ultimately what led to their breakup. I don’t know the guy, but that was an automatic strike against him in my book. She also mentioned he writes music for a band, which is another strike against him. Not that being in a band is a bad thing, but it’s hard to compete with a musician, even when you’re a doctor.
What little she did say about Ridge gave me the impression that she doesn’t regret the demise of their relationship. But it’s still slightly uncomfortable knowing this is his apartment. Maggie is his ex. I’m about to spend the day with his friends. I can’t imagine many guys being okay with their ex bringing along a new guy, so unless he’s some kind of saint, I probably have good reason to suddenly be on edge. I don’t like that I’m experiencing jealousy over a girl for the first time, and I haven’t even met the guy who is the cause of my irrational jealousy.
But that’s about to change because we’re walking out of Maggie’s bedroom now, specifically for introductions. I open the door and step aside so that Maggie can walk out of her bedroom first. She looks up at me as she passes, and she smiles with a hint of calm appreciation in her eyes, despite her own nervousness.
It’s the same look she gave me when I was helping her with her skydiving paperwork the first day we met. She was a ball of nervous energy—enough for me to have felt it from all the way across the room. But as soon as I sat down next to her, she somehow smiled at me with an appreciative look in her eyes that made me feel as though I were in the process of jumping out of that plane with her. She says a lot without saying anything. I’ve never met anyone whose expressions hold entire conversations.
Right now, her expression is saying, “This is awkward, I know. But it’ll be fine.”
She leaves her bedroom door open and walks ahead of me across the living room. There’s a guy standing in the kitchen with his back to us. I can’t tell from this view, but it looks like he may be on his phone. There’s a blond girl standing near the bar, slipping into a pair of shoes. She glances up as soon as she hears us exiting Maggie’s bedroom. Her whole face lights up when she sees me next to Maggie.
Maggie waves her hand toward her. “Jake, this is Sydney.”
Sydney continues twisting her shoe into the carpet to get it on her foot. Once she does, she walks over to me, half-hopping as she extends her hand. “It’s so good to meet you,” she says, pulling on the other shoe.
I return her handshake. “You, too.”
Maggie mentioned Sydney’s name to me earlier, and that she’s Ridge’s current girlfriend. I’m not sure how this scenario played out, but Maggie and Sydney seem to get along, which says a lot about them as individuals. And there’s something about Sydney that feels genuine. I like her almost immediately.
I can’t say the same for the guy behind her in the kitchen with his back still to us. He’s obviously completely uninterested in introductions. I can only assume this is Ridge, but before I can put too much thought into what his reaction means and how this is definitely a competitive move on his part, two
people walk out of one of the other rooms.
Based on Maggie’s passing, almost agitated look as she turns to face them, I can only assume the guy walking toward me is Warren. The gleam in his eyes screams mischief, and Maggie did mention Warren’s sole purpose today is to embarrass her.
He’s holding his arms out as he makes his way over to me. He pulls me in for a hug. I reluctantly hug him back. I’m not sure I’ve been greeted with a hug from another guy in years. In my occupation, it’s handshakes and professional introductions and inquiries about which golf course you prefer to frequent on Sundays.
It isn’t bear hugs and pats on the cheeks. This guy is actually patting my cheeks.
“Wow,” he says. “You are really good-looking.” He glances at Maggie. “Good job, Maggot. He looks like Captain America.”
I laugh and back up a step, not sure if embarrassing Maggie is his sole intention. I think he wants to embarrass both of us.
“Warren, this is Jake,” Maggie says, already appearing exhausted with him.
Warren salutes me. “Good to meet you, Jake.”
With as much enthusiasm as Warren is showing, the other guy is still showing none. He continues to ignore the situation, completely uninterested that I’m here. Maybe this is why Maggie warned me. Because I’m not exactly welcome by everyone.
I give my full attention back to Warren. “Good to meet you, too.”
Warren points at the brunette standing next to him. “This is my girlfriend, Bridgette.”
She doesn’t say anything to me. She just nods and walks to the refrigerator.
Warren points at Ridge. “Did you meet Ridge already?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.” I’m not sure I want to meet Ridge at this point. He obviously has no interest in meeting me.
Warren closes the distance between himself and the kitchen and taps Ridge on the shoulder. When Ridge turns, Warren begins to sign at the same time he says, “Jake is here.” Ridge spins around and finally makes eye contact with me.
I always teach Justice not to make assumptions about people. Yet here I am…being an assumptive asshole. Ridge isn’t bothered that I’m here. He didn’t know I was here.
He walks around the bar, closing the distance between us. “Hi,” he says, shaking my hand. “Ridge Lawson.” His voice is a clear indicator that he wasn’t intentionally ignoring me and that I am, in fact, an assumptive asshole.
I return his handshake with relief. “Jake Griffin.”
I don’t know if Maggie intentionally left out that Ridge is deaf, or if his deafness is their norm and she just didn’t think to mention it. Either way, I’m relieved by it, because five seconds ago I was ready to call it a day when I assumed I was intruding, but now his genuine welcome is as comforting as Sydney’s.
I no longer harbor the competitive, jealous feelings I was attempting to suppress on the way out of Maggie’s bedroom. I don’t know the history between these people beyond what Maggie has shared, which isn’t much, but there doesn’t seem to be any ill will between any of them.
Although, I still haven’t spoken to Warren’s girlfriend. Maybe she’s just shy.
The next few seconds are a flurry of activity. Ridge is putting on his shoes, Sydney is pulling on a jacket, Warren walks over to the girl who just shut the fridge…Bridgette…and tries to kiss her, but she pushes him away.
I glance over at Maggie, and she smiles at me. “Let me grab my sweater.” She walks back to her bedroom. I look around at the apartment and notice there are several doors leading to other rooms. Maggie mentioned how she and Ridge know each other, but I still don’t know the connection between everyone else.
“Are you all roommates?” I ask, looking around at the four of them. “Is that how you all know each other?”
Bridgette is in the middle of sipping from a bottle of water, but she perks up at my question, just as Maggie reappears from her bedroom with a sweater. “Oh, I’ll happily explain how we all know each other,” Bridgette says, screwing the cap on her water bottle.
Maggie says her name in what appears to be an attempt to stop Bridgette from speaking, but Bridgette ignores her.
“Warren and Ridge have been best friends for years,” Bridgette explains, pointing between Warren and Ridge with the water bottle. She then points it in Maggie’s direction. “Warren used to date Maggie, but they didn’t last very long before Ridge swooped in and claimed her.”
Wait. Both of these guys used to date Maggie?
“Maggie and Ridge dated for six years, but that ended when Sydney moved in last year. Now Sydney is dating Ridge, but she doesn’t actually live here with us anymore. Maggie does, though. Until her new apartment is ready, which is here in the same complex as both of her ex-boyfriends.” Bridgette looks at me. “And no, none of this is weird. At all. Especially right now as we all pretend we’re best friends and we spend the whole day doing best friend stuff together. Yay.”
Bridgette says the last word of that sentence with absolutely zero enthusiasm.
I guess I had her pegged wrong, too. She isn’t shy at all.
The next ten seconds are quiet. Quieter than any ten seconds have ever been. I glance at Maggie, and she has a look of horror on her face. Sydney glares at Bridgette, silently scolding her. Bridgette looks at Sydney and shrugs like she did nothing wrong.
Then my phone rings.
The interruption is an immediate excuse for everyone to scatter. Everyone but Maggie, who is watching me, waiting for my next move.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, knowing by the distinct ring that it’s Chrissy. She never calls unless it’s important. Long gone are the days when we called each other just to chat. I swipe my finger across the screen and then pull the phone to my ear as I point toward Maggie’s bedroom, letting her know I’m heading in there to take the call in private. I close the door partially as I walk into the room.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Chrissy says, breathless. I can tell she’s rushing, probably pulling on her scrubs. “Got called in. Can I drop Justice off with you?”
I close my eyes. He’s almost twelve. We leave him alone on occasion, but not when I’m more than a block away. “I’m in Austin.” I squeeze the back of my neck. “It’ll take me an hour to get back.”
“Austin?” she says. “Oh. Okay. I would send him to Cody’s house for the day, but he woke up in the middle of the night with a stomach bug. Should I call my mom?”
I glance at Maggie’s bedroom door. “No. No, I’m on my way. I’ll pick him up and take him over to my place for the night.”
Chrissy thanks me and ends the call. I stare down at the phone, wondering how Maggie will take this. I sort of wish she’d heard the entire conversation so she doesn’t think I’m making up an excuse to get out of today after Bridgette’s spiel.
I slide the phone into my pocket and walk toward Maggie’s door. When I open it, she glances at me from the kitchen, where she’s talking with Sydney.
“Can we chat?” I point back toward her room to indicate I’d like to do it in private. She nods and then shares a quick glance with Sydney before walking back to her room. She closes the door once we’re both inside.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Bridgette made it all seem so weird, but I swear
—”
I hold up my hand, interrupting her. “Maggie, it’s fine. I know you
wouldn’t have invited me here if you were still hung up on someone else.” She looks relieved by my comment.
“My timing couldn’t be shittier,” I say. “But Chrissy, my ex-wife, just called. Justice is sick, and she got called in to work. I have to head back home.”
There isn’t a single shred of doubt in Maggie’s expression. Only concern.
“Is he okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just a stomach bug.”
She nods, but I can tell she’s somewhat disappointed that I’m leaving. So am I, though. I pull her to me to give her a hug goodbye. She molds to my chest, making it difficult to want to release her.
“Downfall of two doctors sharing a child,” I say. “You’re on call even on the weekends you aren’t on call.”
She pulls back and looks up at me. I slide my hands to her cheeks and bend down to give her a kiss. I can’t help but notice that our physical interaction is way ahead of our relationship. We aren’t even dating, but the way I hug her and kiss her and respond to her would indicate otherwise. It’s why I make sure our kiss goodbye is nothing more than a peck. The last thing I want to do is overwhelm her again. “Have fun today.”
She smiles. “I will. I hope Justice feels better soon.”
“Thank you. And send me some pictures of the caves. I’ll call you tonight after you’re back if it’s not too late.”
“I would like that,” she says. “Want me to walk you out?” “I would like that.”
•••
One would think that a man who regularly slices through people’s chests wouldn’t be bothered by a little vomit.
Not the case with me.
I’m convinced Justice has vomited more today than he did the first five years of his life. Or maybe it just seems that way because he’s older and bigger and produces more vomit, but fuck, there was so much vomit. I can’t be happier that it’s over. For now. There can’t possibly be anything left in the poor kid to even puke up.
When I’m finished scrubbing the bathroom, showering, and checking on Justice, I finally settle into the couch to catch up on my conversation with Maggie. They returned from the caves a little over an hour ago, and she sent me a few pictures. I told her I’d FaceTime with her as soon as I got Justice to bed.
She answers almost immediately. The smile on her face disappoints me, but only because I’m not seeing it in person.
“How is Justice?”
I love that she asks this before we even say hello.
“Asleep. And empty. I think he’s expelled everything he’s eaten since January.”
She makes a face. “Poor kid.”
She’s lying on her bed, her hair spread out over the pillow. She’s holding
the phone above her. It’s the same view I had of her earlier today as I was hovering over her, preparing to kiss her. I force the thought out of my head before she sees through me. “Was the trip as fun as your pictures made it seem?”
She nods. “It was. Well, mostly.” She pushes the hair away from her forehead to reveal a small bandage near her temple. “Warren thought it would be a good idea to hide from us and then scare us. I turned really fast, and me and Bridgette butted heads.” She laughs, smoothing her hair back in place. “Warren felt so bad, he bought us all dinner. I mean, it was Taco Bell, but still. Warren never pays for anything ever.”
I smile. I like that she seems to have had fun. Happiness looks really good on her. “You ready for the big move tomorrow?”
She nods, rolling onto her side as she lowers the phone. “I’m ready to have my own bathroom again.”
“I’d offer to come help, but Chrissy is on call until Monday. I should probably keep Justice at my place until he’s feeling better so there isn’t a lot of back and forth.”
“We have plenty of help. I don’t have a whole lot to move, anyway. But I’ll FaceTime you tomorrow night and show you my new place after we’re finished.”
“I’d like it better if I could see it in person.” She grins. “When’s your next day off?”
“I have an early day on Wednesday. I could drive to you…we could order take-out. Can’t spend the night this time, but I could stay a few hours.”
“That sounds good. I’ll cook for you,” she says.
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a home-cooked meal?”
She smiles again and then follows her smile up with a sigh. I open my mouth to tell her how pretty she looks, but I’m interrupted when Justice walks into the room. “Hey, buddy,” I say, looking up from my phone. “You feeling okay?”
Justice nods but doesn’t look at me. He walks to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator.
“I’ll let you go,” Maggie whispers, pulling my attention back to my phone.
I smile appreciatively at her. “Call me tomorrow when you’re all settled.” “I will. Goodnight.”
I stare at her a moment, not quite ready to end my conversation with her. But I also don’t want to be on the phone with her while Justice is in the room. “Goodnight, Maggie,” I whisper. She waves and then ends the call. I toss my phone on the couch and then walk into the kitchen with Justice.
He’s standing with the refrigerator door open, and he’s opening a slice of American cheese. He takes a bite out of it, leaving the slice dangling from his
mouth while he grabs the deli meat. He pulls out a slice of ham and shoves it in his mouth, along with the rest of the slice of cheese.
“It would be easier if you just let me make you a sandwich,” I offer.
Justice grabs the bag of ham and closes the fridge. “I couldn’t wait that long. I feel like I might die of starvation.” He grabs a bag of chips and sits down at the bar with the ham in front of him. He opens the bag of chips and puts a few in his mouth. “Who were you talking to?”
“I take it you’re feeling better.”
“If you count starving to death as feeling better. Who were you talking to?” he repeats.
“Maggie.”
“The same girl you went to see in the hospital?”
This is why I didn’t want to be on the phone with her while he was in the room. He doesn’t shy away from anything. And I’m a big believer in being honest with him, so I nod. “Same one.”
“Why was she in the hospital?” “She has Cystic Fibrosis.” “That sounds serious.”
“It is. You should research it.”
Justice rolls his eyes because he knows I’m being serious. Every time he asks a question that I tell him to research, I always follow up with him the next day to make sure he did. Then I correct him on anything he learned that was inaccurate. That’s the downside of Google. There’s a lot of information, but you have to know how to weed through the bullshit. I think that’s really why I always have him research answers to a lot of his questions—so that he can learn how to properly navigate the bullshit.
“Is Maggie your girlfriend?” I shake my head. “Nope.”
“But you’ve had sex with her?”
The combination of my eleven-year-old asking if I’ve had sex with someone while chewing on a mouthful of ham is both odd and entertaining. “What?”
“You mentioned something about not being able to spend the night with her again. Which means you’ve spent the night with her before. Which probably means you’ve had sex with her because Cody says that’s what adults do when they spend the night with each other.”
“Cody is eleven. He isn’t always right.” “So that’s a no?”
I feel guilty because I’m currently wishing Justice were still in bed sick. “Can we put this conversation on pause until you’re about fourteen?”
Justice rolls his eyes. “You say you like that I’m a curious kid, but then you never want to feed my curiosity.”
“I like that you’re curious. I like feeding your curiosity. But sometimes you’re too hungry.” I open the refrigerator and grab him a water. “Drink this. You haven’t had enough liquid today.”
Justice grabs the water from me. “Fine. But on my fourteenth birthday, be prepared to revisit this conversation.”
I laugh. God, I love this kid. But at this rate, I’m not sure I’ll make it until he’s fourteen. His curiosity is going to kill the cat. I’m the cat.
“You want me to make you something else to eat?”
Justice nods and closes the deli meat. “I’ll take some cinnamon toast. Can we watch Signs?”
I want to tell him no because the idea of watching one of his favorite movies for the twentieth time sounds excruciating. But I know before long, the last thing he’ll want to do is watch movies with his dad. As a father, I’ve learned to take what I can get while I can get it, because none of the phases a child goes through last forever. Eventually, the things you once found repetitive and irritating become the very things you’d give anything to repeat.
“Yeah, we can watch Signs. Get it started while I make your toast.”
