Page 144 of Doctorshipped
She rolled her eyes and batted her long, fake lashes and quipped that he had missed a golden opportunity.
When I look at my follower count, my jaw drops. I’ve got over six thousand followers. Six thousand? What happened? All from some book quotes and a few vampire facts? This doesn’t even make sense. But, leave it to Ella Mae. She’s some sort of social media magician.
A little piece of paper flutters on my windshield. I step out of my car to grab it. How did that get there? It wasn’t there when I drove home from tutoring yesterday.
When I unfold it, the handwriting takes my breath away. It’s from Grant.
Jayme,
I need to say some things to you while still honoring your need for space. I thought writing a note would be a good compromise. I hope I’m right.
What I have to say here is not adequate enough to be an apology, but it’s a start at one, if you accept it for what I intend it to be.
I withheld pieces of myself from you. Big ones. At the time, it wasn’t premeditated. I’m not used to having someone like you in my life. That’s not what matters. I should have told you—told everyone here—about my past. But, especially you. Because you’re all that really matters.
So, here goes nothing. I’m choosing to be an open book—to you, not to everyone. But, I will let others know more than I have. I’m about to tell you things you want to know (and maybe even some you don’t). I’m opening up—to you. Especially to you. Over the days to come, I’ll be giving you glimpses, sharing things I’ve never shared with anyone. I’ll start from one of my earliest memories, even though I feel absurd starting with this particular story.
I lost my first tooth when I was six. I wouldn’t let dad pull it. Mom tried to cajole me, but I insisted on letting that tooth dangle by the smallest sinew.
One day a kid in my first-grade class, a boy named Joey, told me I could choke on the tooth if it fell out in my sleep. I was so scared, I let him pull it for me at recess. He wanted to keep it then, as a prize. So, I let him. When I got home my mom asked what I was going to give the tooth fairy since I’d given away the tooth.
We came up with the idea that I could draw a picture of the tooth and write a note explaining everything to the tooth fairy. My mom was good that way. Resourceful and fun. You would have loved her and she would have loved you even more. I think I may have gotten a quarter for my efforts—under my pillow the next morning. I remember asking my parents what a boy was supposed to do with only a quarter. And they told me quarters added up if you let them.
No one else knows this story—except Dad. And, I think he may still have that letter I wrote somewhere. Mom was what I’ll call a sentimental hoarder.
Also, I’d give anything for one minute with her today. Just like I’d give anything for a minute with you.
That’s all for now. But I’m just getting started.
Oh, and don’t forgive me too easily. I know you, and you might want to rush into forgiving me. Please don’t. You were right. You deserve better.
Yours - Grant
Tears trickle down my face.Grant’s trying. I want to call in to the flower mart and turn my car toward Grant’s. Fiona and I don’t have tutoring today.
But, Grant’s right. I swipe a tear off my cheek. I deserve more. I’ll let him pursue me. And, if this note is any indication, he is coming for me.An open book. I shake my head, start the car, and drive to the flower mart with the first genuine smile on my face in almost a month.
Over the next week, I find notes everywhere. My car windshield consistently sports a folded slip of yellow paper. Friends drop them off to me. Lexi tapes them to the fridge. I store them in a shoe box in my room. Grant’s obviously enrolled everyone I know to be a part of this mission to win me back. That fact alone makes me smile. Grant—the lone wolf—may have found himself a pack.
Fiona even hands me a note after tutoring one day. It’s taped shut, probably to keep her from curiously reading it.
“This is from my dad,” she says. “I can tell he’s really sorry. But he told me not to get in the middle between you two. He said he broke what you had together, and he’s going to fix it.” She looks up at me. “I just wish he’d go faster.”
I swallow back the tears, and give Fiona a big hug, assuring her that Grant is doing one of the best jobs at fixing something he broke of anyone I ever saw.
When I’m alone in my car, I’ll open the note.
So far I’ve learned about his first crush, his fear of spiders, the time he spilled punch down his shirt at the Sadie Hawkins dance. I learned the names of his two best friends growing up, what it was like going to medical school and doing his residency. I also learned he doesn’t have a favorite color because he thinks that’s a frivolous waste of favorites.
His favorite food, though, is anything he eats with me—especially Chinese because it reminds him of our date in Columbus, and the way I called him sweet and sour. He said he already loved Chinese before that, though, and he even traveled to Asia on a medical mission trip one summer during college.
He’s told me about how he met Margot, and her fight against cancer, and his hopes for a future once she was well. The notes about that time in his life were hard, but important for me to read.
He’s not holding back. I feel like there’s no corner of his life he’s keeping me out of now. And I daily resist the urge to barge through his office and run to him. But, my friends keep telling me to wait. This time is important for us—for Grant. They say the difference between a man doing a few small things to get his way, and a man showing deep change is significant. So I wait.
Clutching the note in my hand like it’s Wonka’s golden ticket, I slow my steps as I pass Grant’s office doors. I pause, placing my hand on the wood paneling. He’s right there, on the other side. I’m always acutely aware of his presence when I come here for Fiona. Today, my nerve endings practically buzz with a sense of his nearness. I keep my flattened hand on the door, hoping somehow he feels me here, and that he knows I’m ready. I’ve been ready. I want him back. I know he’s changed.
It takes everything in me to pull myself away and walk to my car. Instead of revving the engine to life, I carefully pull at the tape, and then I unfold the note.
