Page 8 of Dr. Do-Right
Second, as weird as it sounds, I was pretty sentimental about most of them. The little orange one, for instance, had been a gift for the first time I’d completed rounds on my own as an NP. It didn’t do the trick, but it made me smile to think about howhe’d gone out of his way to same-day ship it so that it would be waiting for me when I got home that night. And how he’d set his alarm from…I think he’d been in India at the time?…to FaceTime me to ask about how my day went. And then watch.
So, that’s where I was. Just a girl, stuffing increasingly large volumes of sex toys in my drawers and praying my best friend never found out. There was a metaphor in there somewhere. Probably because one day, the drawer would get too full—the secret too big—and they’d all come springing out to slap her in the face with my betrayal.
“Kitten, you can have a whole dresser. At my place.”
I avoided his gaze, running my fingers across the dog’s fur. He was so snuggly, I wanted to die. “Careful, Doc.”
“I don’t want to be careful, Ri. You know why I’m doing this.”
“Because your Colorado location is going to bust at the seams soon. And you love this city. And your sister is here, who you adore.”
He sat forward, propping his elbows on his knees and fixing me with that perceptive stare I both loved and hated. He loomed in the chair on the other side of the coffee table. I’d sprawled on the couch, the table a strategic, unspoken barrier to keep ourselves from jumping each other.
I could see his beautiful brain working overtime, analyzing the situation, my reactions, the best way to meet me there. Usually, I loved watching him work, but sometimes when he turned those perceptive therapist eyes on me, I wanted to cringe away.
“My biz dev team could make the same cost/benefit analysis for a clinic in New York. But I do love Chicago. In part, because my sister is here.”In part becauseyouare here.We both knew the words hung there, unspoken, between us.
Just like we both knew why I was cuddled up with a dog right now. Why he’d showed up to my birthday with a puppy, when the last time I’d seen him, we’d discussed how I’d always wanteda dog growing up. How that yearning had never changed and how much I regretted that my work schedule wouldn’t allow me to care for a pet.
Some people might think that a puppy was an over-the-top gift from a long-distance, no-touching fuck buddy, but it really wasn’t.
In the past six months, even though we now had a physical outlet for all the need we felt for each other, our explosive chemistry hadn’t fizzled. Instead, our attachment had grown. Those guilty little sessions behind closed doors with my vibrator had turned into long-distance video calls that went for hours into the night.
Within that time, there were more reasons than ever for Mal to be in Chicago. Long weekends after conferences or a client meeting he couldn’t take over video call. Flimsy excuses to stay at our apartment instead of a hotel. More dinners, lunches, drinks, walks around the lake, laughter, and good times with the Dobrevs than I could count.
Sonia loved that he was around more often. She’d gleefully renamed our group chat the Three Musketeers. At first, I could pretend we were just three really close friends, and I wasn’t in love with one of the other musketeers, and that he didn’t regularly feed my sex toy habit, or watch me climax.
But six months into keeping this secret with him and we were both wearing thin. The hot, illicit feeling of watching each other come had shifted from “I bet you feel so good” to “I want to touch you so badly” to “I would give anything to put my hands on you” and now we were floating somewhere in a bittersweet longing.
The more I saw of Mal, the more I wanted to see of him, and not just in a hot, naked way. The thrill of it all had worn off. Now, I didn’t just want him in bed, but everywhere. I wanted him to be mine, fully. The feeling had grown stronger in the last few months, but I didn’t know how to address it.
Sonia had been a pivotal force in my life since the day we met, anchoring me when I was unmoored. She never accused me of beingtoo much, despite what my family had told me over and over again. She taught me not to take life too seriously. That I was worthy of love, even if I was loud, sometimes.
At the same time, Malachi’s steady, thoughtful presence and single-minded insistence that I deserved what I wanted (even if was getting myself off in front of my best friend’s brother) had made me bold in other areas of my life, too. He read my mind when I was overwhelmed or reeling from some family drama. He made me laugh and turned me on more than should be physically possible.
I wasn’t sure I could make it in this world without both of them. So, I’d just maintained this awful little secret, feelings of love and guilt growing in equal measure, trying to figure out when the other shoe would drop.
Apparently, the shoe was dropping right into the penthouse seven floors above me.
“Ri, it’s been months. Surely she’d understand.”
“She’d understand that we’ve been lying right to her face this whole time?”
Mal sighed, staring at where the puppy had fallen asleep in the crook of my arm. “I don’t want to hurt her. But I also don’t want to do this anymore.”
“What do you want, Malachi?” I whispered, even though I already knew the answer. Like me, he was tired of hiding, tired of the tortuous restrictions I’d placed on us. I was at my limit, and apparently, he was at his, too.
“I want to take you on a date, Rija. And actually kiss you. And keep fifty drawers for you at my place.” He looked pained, dropping his head into his hands. “I want to know what your nipples taste like.”
I knew he saved that final, whiny confession for last just to get a laugh out of me. He succeeded. “Poor thing.”
“You have no idea.”
I did. “Mal.” I only hesitated a second before reaching over to lace my fingers with his. We both sucked in breaths at the contact.
We’d decided early on that hands didn’t count. We couldn’t avoid fist-bumps and high-fives forever. Still, we reserved any hand action for serious or extra-special occasions. Discussing the future of our relationship seemed like both.
He cupped his other hand around mine, trapping my fingers between his palms. His skin was warm. “Please, Rija. I’m moving to Chicago for you. I won’t pretend differently. Meet me in the middle, here.”
