Page 84 of The Bitter Rival

“I know.” I start to end the call when my willpower breaks. “Nick?”

“Yeah, Bas.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s getting there. The first few months were hard. We didn’t know what to say. But she’s gone through all five stages of grief now and landed on acceptance.”

Dropping my head once more, I know it’s for the best. Part of me wants to know if she’s moved on to someone else, but I have no right to ask after the way I treated her. “Thanks, Nick. I feel better knowing you guys are looking out for her and Austin.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Bas.”

“Yes, it does. I have to go.”

It’s been a few days since my call with Nick. I don’t hear much from the outside world, so I’m surprised when my phone starts jumping on the table. I manage to drag my weary body from the jacuzzi, although I probably look like an injured mammal. It takes some stealthy maneuvering on my part to reach my cell before the call goes to voicemail, but I accomplish it without ending up on the ground.

“Hello?” I pant into the phone.

“Hello. Is this Sebastian Lee?”

“Yes. May I ask who’s calling?” Why does this voice sound so familiar?

“Yes, of course. I hope you’ll pardon the intrusion. But one of your colleagues was kind enough to share your cell number with me. I was concerned when I tried to make an appointment and was told you were no longer working with the practice. This is Eugene Hansen.”

My spirits perk up for the first time in months at hearing his name. I sit a little taller in my chair. “Mr. Hansen, it’s so good of you to call. Is your hand doing okay?”

“It’s doing fine, son. I’m back to painting, and it’s all because of you. But I was calling to check on you.”

“Me?”

“Well, after our recent conversations, I admit I’ve developed a fondness for you. You remind me so much of myself at your age. So driven and determined, sometimes unknowingly to your disadvantage. It didn’t make sense to me that you’d up and quit without sending a letter to your patients advising them where they could find you.”

“I’m sorry for that, Mr. Hansen. I resigned without moving my practice. I probably should’ve sent letters regardless, as a courtesy. I apologize. Things have been… difficult.” Sharing my recent predicament with this man is making me feel emotional. I don’t know why I feel so drawn to him.

“Is it okay to ask if you’re all right?”

“Of course, sir. I’m just adjusting to a new way of life.”Hell, just tell him, Bas.“I was diagnosed with MS. I honestly didn’t know at the time of your surgery, Mr. Hansen. Once the diagnosis was made, I resigned before I could risk making any mistakes that could cause a bad outcome to any of my patients.”

“I’m not worried about that, Sebastian. I’m worried about you.”

Suddenly, the damn has broken. I can feel tears I’ve kept pent up for years start to fall. Tears for having someone care enough to do what my parents should’ve done, tears for waiting so long to allow myself to connect with anyone in a real way, tears for all I’ve lost. I’m so overwhelmed by the kindness of this man, I’m not sure I can continue this conversation. I hope he can’t hear my spluttering.

“Sebastian, where are you?”

“I’m in Italy. Sorrento at the moment.”

“Ah, I bet it’s beautiful there.”

“Yes, sir. It is.”

“Would you mind terribly if I came for a visit?”

Sitting up taller, I adjust the phone to my ear. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I’ve never traveled much and always wanted to see Italy. Will you be there long enough I could pay you a visit?”

I can barely contain my excitement at the prospect. “I’d love that, sir. I have no plans to leave anytime soon.”

“Well, let this old man make some plans. I’m hoping to bring my lady friend along. We’ve come quite a long way since I saw you last.”

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