Page 78 of Really Truly Yours
Lately, I’m wanting to be that person. She stirs up the gentleman in me.
As well as a few other things. I know how to act honorably, however, and I do, the old stupid stage being a brief stain on the record.
Brief, but forever memorialized, thank you, internet. Pointless parties and addling alcohol. I mean, I was no worse than the average guy I know.
I wasn’t any better either. I wish I’d lived up to my faith and to Tom Smith’s example. Disappointing parents is the worst feeling on the planet.
No point denying my interest. Donny sees. Men don’t ask about women they don’t have an interest in. I fold my arms over my chest. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“You make her have a thing for you and then leave her behind when you go back to Houston and that’s exactly what you’ll do.”
I squint. “Maybe I’ll take her with me.”
He snorts. “Right. You got all them rich, plastic women down there. You telling me you’d choose Sydnee over them fast-living floozies that throw their stuff at you?”
A handful of tabloid stories last year about a fleeting episode with an actress, and it appears my adoring father-in-biology-only caught them all. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” I spike both my eyebrows as high as they’ll go.
His face, haggard from hard living, is somber, as eyes a lot like mine size me up right back. A slow grin dawns. He slaps his thigh. “You just made my day, son.”
The sting the word carries has less zing than a week ago. What gets me more is the giddy glimmer that replaces the dark suspicion.
Whoa. Tap the brakes. What I’m saying is, I’m interested, and my intentions are honorable.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ve known the lady all of about ten days.” A lot has been happening lately, so I’m hardly at a place in my life where I’m thinking too seriously about a relationship.
Hmm. Point taken. The thing is, I barely know who I am right now, much less anyone else or what their role in my life might be.
Interested is truly the perfect word. Sure, Sydnee is easy on the eyes, but I’m becoming consumed with figuring out what makes her tick. She’s like a giant, layered mystery, utterly unlike the women spinning in my universe.
My preoccupation with Sydnee has also teamed up with a near-compulsion to protect. If she’d let me, I’d have Bill’s crew rip that entire roof off and start fresh.
Weird, right?
Inconvenient, too, since the mention of a few shingles unglued her. Gotta respect her independence, though.
The door squeals. Carly manages to sort of drape herself against it as if she isn’t in a sick old man’s hospital room on professional business. I swear her scrubs are extra fitted today, too.
Not gonna lie, I’m ready to blow this joint. The perky blonde nurse has flirted my patience away for the last two days.
I’m no longer open to that kind of, ahem, relationship. I’ve made a point of throwing Sydnee’s name around during a couple of our conversations. Men get the bad rap, but in my experience, women are relentless. Worse, they suck you in even when you know you shouldn’t let them. I held strong to my values for a very long time.
In the end, my old clay feet stomped their mucky footprints all over the place.
“Hey, boys. It’s almost noon. The meter’s running.”
I stand. “Five minutes. We’ll be out of your hair.”
“You’re not bothering me, but the big guys charge for their time.”
Don’t ask me how, but she manages to make the remark sound salacious and seamy.
My face actually, literally, feels warm when I turn my back and hurl the sheet off Donny’s skinny legs. Sorry, this discharge is happening now.
“Cut that out!” He grasps for the bleached fabric while tugging downward at the ugly hospital gown.
“Need a minute here!” I call over my shoulder. Get lost, chick.
I think I hear resignation in her sigh. Finally. “Alright. Five minutes.” The door squeals shut.