Page 50 of Egotistical Jerk
Eyes roaming over my face, she wrinkled her nose. "How did you even know I was thinking about the interview?"
I couldn't answer without putting my heart on the line. Because telling her I was so tuned in to every little thing about her as if we had been together for years and not just fifteen days would have sounded… weird and scary.
Running my nose alongside hers, I whispered, "I just do."
She studied me for a long, long time before softly saying, "I know I'm a good doctor, but I'm nowhere close to being head of any department, let alone diagnostics."
"Mia," I said carefully. "Stop doubting yourself."
She shook her head, my words not even registering. "And what if I do get this job? I don't want to leave Mrs. DuBois, Sebastian. I want to be there the day we finally get to tell her we've figured out what's going on with her."
Inside my chest, my heart squeezed. How the hell was I going to tell my girl that I didn't think we would ever see that day. The last three tests I ran had left me with absolutely no hope and a lot of dread.
Pulling her into my embrace, I whispered against her hair, "Why don't you focus on the interview first and when that's done, we'll cross any bridge that needs crossing, okay?"
There were other words on the tip of my tongue as well, words that I had no business speaking. To stop them from spilling out, I pressed my fingers beneath her chin and guided her mouth to mine. There was no soft press of my lips against hers, it was fierce and needy. Just like everything I felt for this woman.
***
Shifting in my seat, I tried to get comfortable before guiding the mouse pointer toward the answer button and clicking on it. A second later, Christian's face filled my screen. One look at his bloodshot eyes and the dark smudges marring the skin beneath them along with his hollow cheeks had my veins flooding with concern.
"Hey man," I greeted my little brother.
"Hey." Even his voice sounded depleted. Considering he was in the middle of Africa dealing with who-knew-what, I shouldn't have been surprised. I still hated seeing him like that.
"Sorry I haven't checked in earlier, things have been…" shaking his head, he sighed heavily. "It's been rough, man."
There wasn't a person I respected more than Christian. I had zero doubts that he kept most of the horrible things he witnessed and endured to himself, not wanting to worry us. But I could read. I knew what was happening. Not only in Nigeria but in most of these economically poor countries. It wasn't pretty and it definitely couldn't have been easy.
"I'm sorry," I told my brother honestly. Then I asked, "Maybe it's time to come home?"
His gaze shifted to something to his right. From the bits I could make out, it seemed as if he was sitting in a tent or something similar. Those eyes that used to be filled with happiness and determination but now seemed almost dead, shifted back to me.
"I've been thinking about that. A lot. But I'm needed here."
I leaned forward in my seat. "Christian, you know better than I do that we have to take care of ourselves before we can take care of others. It's okay to put yourself first."
My brother dragged his hand over the back of his neck. "You're right. I know you are. It's just, every time I think about leaving, this weird feeling twists my gut. Almost like I'm abandoning them."
Never had I wanted to reach through a screen to squeeze my brother's shoulder as much as I wanted to do it at that moment. I was supposed to take care of him; he was my little brother.
"You won't be abandoning anyone. Think of it as recharging. Once you've found that piece of you you've clearly lost, you can always go back."
Christian blinked, the action so slow I wondered if our connection was lagging. His throat worked down a few swallows as he nodded his head, either at me or at some internal discussion he was having.
"I guess." The words fell from his lips raspy and unsure. Shifting in his seat, he cleared his throat, and I knew he was about to steer the conversation away from him. My suspicion was confirmed when he asked, "So how have you been? Meet anyone?"
He asked me that every time we spoke. The answer had always been the same until right then. "Uh, yeah, I have actually."
My brother straightened; his dark head dipping dangerously close to the little camera making his forehead seem abnormally large on my end.
"No shit!" He squealed. I kid you not. My twenty-eight-year-old brother squealed. It was interesting and definitely better than the melancholy that had laced his voice earlier.
Nodding, I grinned and repeated his words, "No shit."
He was so excited, you could have sworn I just told him I found the cure to cancer or AIDS.
"What does she look like?" Was the question that started the twenty-minute inquisition about anything and everything related to Mia. Not that I minded. Actually, telling someone other than Simon and Bridget felt amazing.
