Page 33 of The Bitter Rival

“Oh, I’m not the patient. I brought my lady friend. She slipped and fell, and I wanted to make sure she was okay. Our hips aren’t made like they used to be,” he jokes. “She’s getting an x-ray.”

“I get it. I’ve suffered more injuries approaching thirty-seven than I’ve had in twenty years.”

“Getting old ain’t for sissies. How have you been? You seem to be in better spirits than the last time we spoke.”

I can’t help but grimace at the recollection of my unprofessional behavior. My treatment of Isabella quickly comes to mind.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject,” he apologizes.

“No, no. Don’t apologize. It was an astute observation. I have to admit I haven’t quite gotten over my behavior that day. I’m making a conscious effort to never allow that to happen again. I appreciate your candor that day, as well as your forgiveness.” Beginning to turn away, I find my feet refuse to move. “Mr. Hansen? When are you scheduled for your follow-up? Did I miss that?”

“I saw a PA. Ava, was it? Beautiful girl. So kind. She said you were away.”

“Ah, I was. Is everything doing all right?”

“It’s great, son. No worries. You did a great job. Time will tell if I can use it the way I did before. And if I can’t, it’s no fault of yours.”

“Well, make sure when you make your next appointment, they schedule you with me.”

“Certainly.”

“It was good to see you, sir. I’m headed to the OR. I hope your lady friend is okay.”

“Thank you. I’m hoping it’s just a bruise. But, I won’t mind an excuse to dote on her a little.” He winks.Sly old dog.

Giving a quick wave and a smile, I continue toward the OR. I’m not sure what it is about that man that makes me want to be a better person, but I’ll take it. Let’s just hope his hand fairs better than Mr. Anderson’s.

Three hours later, and I’m finally heading to the car. I guess I can skip the steak and potatoes at this point. I’d settle for a quick burger and fries. And I don’t eat that shit. Hopefully, there’s a charcuterie tray in the fridge. My personal chef knows I can eat my weight in cheese. Dragging my weary body toward the physicians’ parking, I realize it must be change of shift for many of the hospital staff. There are multiple nurses and technicians dressed in a variety of scrubs and lab coats exiting the building.

As I approach my car, I catch a glimpse of a petite brunette in the overhead lighting. She’s parked in an adjacent lot, but there’s no doubt in my mind it’s Isabella. I watch as she waves to a colleague, opens her driver’s side door, and slides in.

Getting into my vehicle, I start the engine. What is it about her that steals my breath? Is it all of the unknowns that pique my curiosity? I have an innate need to know more. Don’t ask me what I’ll do with the information once I have it. But the lack of control is starting to war with me.

Before I can think better of it, I’ve pulled out of the parking area with deliberateness. My pace is controlled, allowing me to follow her from a distance.What the fuck am I doing? Jesus, I’ve turned into a damn stalker.

I watch her SUV closely, trying to keep a safe distance as she takes the onramp onto the highway. Hell, I hope she doesn’t live an hour away.I can forget eating at this point.She drives a Lexus. It appears to be in good condition. This is a rather expensive vehicle for a radiology student, I surmise. Maybe she bought it used. Or maybe her husband has a good job?

As we approach the midtown area, she gives her signal she’s exiting the highway. Continuing to follow her, leaving several car lengths between us, I try not to question my sanity as she drives closer to the historic section of Richmond. There are fewer vehicles on the roadway now. It’s late, but this area is still populated enough she wouldn’t realize anyone is following her. Holy hell, the last thing I want is for her to think I’m… what? Stalking her?What the hell is happening to me?

Her vehicle starts to decelerate. There’s no way. We’re on Monument Avenue. It’s a large roadway with a center median that is dotted with incredibly expensive homes, many dating back to the early 1900s. While many of these residences were converted to multi-family units after the second World War, there are quite a few in the Monument Avenue historic district that have been lovingly restored and value in the millions. Regardless, there’s no way someone on a radiology tech salary could afford to live here. There has to be a significant other. Does she have a sugar daddy? She seems a little old for that, but maybe they’ve been together a long time, and she’s looking for someone to rock her world. Could she be in an open marriage?

Pulling into a vacant space about five cars from where she’s parked, I sit and watch. I’m not sure what intel I think I’m going to glean from observing her unlock her door, but I’m here now. Might as well see this through. She exits her vehicle, slinging her purse and some type of carryall over her shoulder. As she locks her car, she ascends the steps of the dark red brick brownstone, and as she reaches the top step, she drops her keys. I have a hard time making out much from this distance, particularly with the large porch columns beside her.

My breath suddenly catches as the door swings open. I cannot see who it is but suspect he’s tall as she gazes up to see them. My heart sinks at her expression. She may be looking for a romp on the wild side, but there’s no denying the way she feels about whomever she’s greeting. Her smile is genuine and stretches from ear to ear.

As the door shuts behind her, I sit feeling more confused than before. I need to let this go. Let her go. Nothing good can come from pursuing her. It seems clear she rushes home to someone she cares deeply for. And as much as I can’t stop thinking about her, I’m certain of one thing. If I tried again after all of these years, as Nick and Kat have encouraged, I’d only fuck it up for both of us.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

Sebastian

“Ouch.”

I yelp as the scalding hot coffee sloshes from my cup and lands on my hand. Unsure if it slipped or if I slammed it onto the counter harder than I should have due to my irritable mood, I acknowledge I need to turn my day around quickly, or things will continue to descend into an unproductive spiral.

While the first surgery of the day wasn’t as explosive as those of late, my focus remains off.I’m sure it had nothing to do with my lack of sleep. Unable to shake the image of Isabella smiling up at her housemate, I had a fitful night’s sleep. I don’t know what possessed me to follow her home. Why had this morbid curiosity about her taken hold? What was it about her that had me wanting to break all of my rules?

I need to consider this a wake-up call and move on. As much as I’d love to know the reasons why she went home with me, much less returned, I need to walk away. She’s obviously in love with whoever greeted her at the door. She couldn’t escape my bed fast enough. I’m unsure a couple of hot nights of sex could lure her away from that. And why do I want to?

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