Desired by Him (Wanted Series #5) Read online

  And if I didn’t work out, which was possible, it would be another one of my private failures and she’d never have to know.

  But something told me this was it.

  And that everything was about to change.

  Chapter 10: Addison

  I was the last one in the waiting room.

  “Dr. Bower will be with you shortly,” the receptionist said as she locked the front door.

  I looked down at my phone while she made her way back to her desk, refreshing my email while she packed up to go home.

  When the door in the corner swung open, I raised my head towards it.

  Dr. Bower was smiling, which I appreciated considering the fact that she couldn’t possibly have been happy to see me after hours. “Hello Addison,” she said, holding the door open. “Why don’t you come on back?”

  I grabbed my purse and stood up. “Thanks for squeezing me in,” I said. “I know you’re busy, and I really appreciate it.”

  She nodded. “It’s no problem.”

  I moved past her in the doorway and stepped to the side of the hall so I could fall in line behind her.

  Her long white coat moved subtly back and forth as she made her way towards a door that was already cracked open.

  Once inside, she sat on a cushioned stool with wheels, waited for me to sit down, and clasped her hands. “So,” she said. “How are things going?”

  “I’m hoping you can tell me,” I said, leaning back against the plastic seat. “Because I’m a little concerned.”

  She cocked her head. “What are you concerned about?”

  “My chest pains.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “They aren’t as bad as they were when I came in recently.”

  She smiled. “That seems like a good thing.”

  “Is it? Because I’ve changed very little and-”

  “So you’ve made some of the changes I suggested?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve attempted to try a few.”

  “Which ones?”

  It took all of my energy to keep a straight face and channel her unshakeable professionalism. “I took a few days off work to recharge for a start.”

  “Wow,” she said. “I wouldn’t have predicted that based on your attitude last time I saw you.”

  “And I’ve been having more-” I swallowed and looked around the room, as if there might be someone there to speak on my behalf.

  “Yes?”

  “Sex,” I said, glancing down at the speckled tiles.

  “Okay,” she said, as if I’d just told her I remembered to bring in the mail. “Can you describe how the pain has changed?”

  “Well, when I came in before, it was a sharp pain, and it was almost constant. Like it never really went away, it just fluctuated in intensity.”

  “Sure.”

  “But for the last few days, I’m hardly noticing it to the point that I actually forget about it entirely sometimes.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Though I’m finding it still acts up when I’m especially stressed about work.”

  “So you’re back at work?”

  I nodded.

  “Usually when people’s symptoms improve, I never hear from them again,” she said, shaking her head. “I think you’re the only person who’s ever come back to complain that they’re in less pain.”

  “I guess I’m just worried I’m having one of those lucid moments, ya know? Like when someone is about to die, but they suddenly make a comeback and seem really healthy?”

  She lowered her head and raised her eyes at me. “I don’t think you’re dying, Addison.”

  “I know, but I just wanted to check.”

  “Well,” she said, touching the manila envelope on the desk beside her. “I had my assistant run some tests.”

  I nodded.

  “And I’m not surprised by anything you’re telling me.”

  “You’re not?”

  She shook her head. “No. On the contrary, I would be surprised if you didn’t feel better.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” She opened the folder and dragged a finger down a chart on the first page. “In fact, your blood pressure has dropped almost exactly as much as it would’ve if I’d put you on prescription meds for the last two weeks.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “I know,” she said. “It’s an absolutely fabulous result.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Was she telling me that drugs would’ve had the exact same effect on me? That if she’d just given me the goddamn pills in the first place there would’ve been no need to go up north, miss work, and let Wyatt fuck me senseless so many times?

  “So whatever you’re doing,” she said, closing the folder. “It’s working.”

  I pursed my lips.

  “That’s good news, Addison. You should be happy.”

  “I am happy,” I said, crossing my legs. “I guess I just-”

  “What?”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “How much of my improvement is down to the sex?”

  “I’m afraid there’s no way of knowing that.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But in my medical opinion, I’d say that- in your case- that’s one good thing you probably can’t have too much of.”

  “Right.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, what if it stops?”

  “The sex?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, there are other lifestyle changes you can focus on to make sure you keep moving in the right direction.”

  “And is it just the act you recommend or-”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”

  I sighed. “I mean, will any sex do?”

  “As long as you experience physical pleasure from it, I think it’s safe to assume it’s good for your heart health.”

  “And what about an emotional connection?” I asked. “Does that make a difference or-”

  “Certainly, it does,” she said. “Sex and intimacy are not mutually exclusive, and based on my experience, I think it’s fair to say the benefits of having both in conjunction with one another is exponentially more beneficial than only having one or the other.”

  “I see.”

  “Does that answer your question?”

  “Sort of.”

  She tilted her head and wrapped her hands around her knee, like she was waiting for me to start making some sense.

  “I guess it’s just that I’m seeing this guy and-” I shook my head. “Sorry. This is stupid. You can’t help me with this-”

  “Try me.”

  I exhaled, my shoulders falling several inches. “Well, in my head, I’m convinced he’s bad for me and that nothing good can come of it, that one of us- probably him- is bound to get hurt.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But assuming what you’re saying is true, my heart is doing better than ever.”

  She pursed her lips.

  I scrunched my face. “Am I making any sense at all?”

  She nodded. “You are.”

  “And?”

  “And unfortunately, you’re right. I can’t tell you what the right thing for you is on an emotional level.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “But on a physical level, your heart health is clearly improving.”

  “But what if it all goes to shit?” I asked. “And sorry to be negative but-”

  “That’s alright.”

  “Like if the relationship ended tomorrow, wouldn’t my heart be in more trouble than ever?”

  She shrugged. “It’s impossible to say,” she said. “But the heart is a muscle, and a strong one at that. It can take a surprising amount of strain and excitement, especially at your age.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that if you’re having great sex with this guy- sex great enough to make you question eve
rything- and sorry if you feel I’m overstepping the mark-”

  “No. You’ve pretty much nailed it.”

  “I would keep having it.”

  “You would?”

  “Why not?” she asked. “What have you got to lose?”

  “My mind for one.”

  She laughed. “In my opinion as a woman- not as a doctor-”

  “Sure.”

  “When relationships end, you always remember the good sex more than the irritating trivialities of trying to get along with another person.”

  “Okay,” I said, taking her word for it.

  “And even sexy memories are good for your health.”

  I furrowed my brow. “They are?”

  “Sure. Just like painful memories can make you feel pain.”

  “I never thought of it like that.”

  “The point is, if you found a nice guy who’s good in bed, why wouldn’t you keep seeing him?”

  I couldn’t tell her why. Not because I didn’t know, but because I was afraid I’d sound even crazier than I already did.

  But the truth was, I was scared. Because while my heart had already been through so many difficult things, there was one thing it had never had to endure, one thing I was worried it couldn’t take.

  And that thing was falling in love.

  Chapter 11: Wyatt

  Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

  Voicemail.

  Damn.

  Beep.

  “Hey Marv. It’s Wyatt. Just wanted to see if you’d heard anything back yet about the demo.” I drummed my fingers on the kitchen counter. “Call me back when you hear something good.” I was about to hang up when I changed my mind. “And you know if it’s bad news, you can tell me. Like you always say, good news can wait, but bad news can’t.” I sighed. “Anyway, I look forward to hearing from you.” I hung up.

  Fuck.

  I hoped I wasn’t wrong. If I was, it meant I’d officially lost it. I’d have no choice but to stop playing games and go get an honest job at Kinkos. Or Dunkin Donuts. Cause I was no musician. Whereas if I was right…

  Sophie walked past the kitchen and something caught my eye.

  “Soph?” I said, sliding my phone in my pocket.

  “Yeah?”

  I popped my head into the entryway. She was holding her jumbo box of crayons and her favorite coloring book, the ridiculously detailed one for adults that made me go cross eyed whenever I flipped through it.

  “What’s that?” I asked, pointing at her ankle.

  “It’s a tattoo.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a tattoo.”

  I clenched my jaw.

  “Lily did it when I was at her house the other day.”

  “Is that so?”

  She nodded. “I did one for her, too.”

  I gestured with my pointer finger for her to come closer and dropped to my knee. “Is that permanent marker?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “But Lily’s sister said it’s not permanent when you use it on your skin.”

  “What is it supposed to be?”

  She furrowed her brow and stretched her neck towards her extended foot. “Umm.”

  “You don’t know what you let her draw on you?”

  “I knew at the time,” she said, crinkling her nose. “But now it’s gone a bit smudged.”

  I didn’t even know where to start. “First of all,” I said, shaking my head. “You are not allowed to have tattoos.”

  She cocked her head. “Why not?”

  “Because there’s nothing wrong with your beautiful skin.”

  “It looked really good yesterday, though.”

  “Well that’s the other thing,” I said. “Real tattoos are permanent so it’s not even funny to joke about them.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “Really. In fact, people with bad tattoos might even think you’re mocking them if you go around with that thing on your ankle.” How did I not see it before? It looked like a bloated starfish.

  “You think I should wash it off?”

  “I don’t think you have a choice,” I said. “It doesn’t even look like anything now.”

  “I know, but-”

  “Can you imagine if you couldn’t wash it off?” I raised my eyebrows and fixed my eyes on hers. “Can you imagine if it looked all terrible and smudged like that and you could never ever get rid of it?”

  “That would be bad.”

  “Right,” I said. “And that’s why you’re never getting a real one. Cause no matter how good it looks at the time, eventually it will look like a terd.”

  She smiled at her ankle again. “It already kind of looks like a terd now that you mention it.”

  I crinkled my nose. “Why don’t you go wash it off?”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re probably going to have to wash it a few times so be patient.”

  She nodded and turned towards the stairs, but she kept turning until she was facing me again.

  “What?”

  “When I’m done will it be dinner time?”

  I looked at the clock on my phone. “Yes.”

  “What are we having?”

  “I was thinking fish stick sandwiches.”

  She stuck her lower lip out.

  I was such a tool for her it was unreal. “Is there something you’d rather have?”

  She pursed her lips and hugged her coloring supplies to her chest. “You know the crunchy grilled cheese you make?”

  I nodded.

  “And how sometimes we have it with tomato soup and we dip it in?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I was thinking maybe just the grilled cheese.”

  “Okay,” I said. “That sounds good.”

  She smiled. “Thanks, Dad. Will you make mine extra crunchy, please?”

  “Sure thing,” I said, rising to my feet.

  I watched her cross the entryway and head upstairs.

  Then I went back into the kitchen and pulled out the special griddle I used to make our sandwiches extra crunchy, smiling to myself that she thought my ability to melt heaps of butter into bread was a special skill. Then I leaned against the counter and pulled out my phone again.

  Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

  “Hello?”

  My body flooded with warmth. “Addison.”

  “Wyatt,” she said. “What a nice surprise.”

  “Is it a surprise?” I asked. “I assumed you knew I’d call.”

  “Still.”

  “Am I catching you at an okay time?”

  “Yeah. What’s going on?”

  “I’m going to be in your neck of the woods tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is.”

  “How interesting.”

  “I thought so, too,” I said. “In fact, I was thinking you might be able to recommend a good place for dinner?”

  “Okay.”

  “And maybe a good place for dessert.”

  “Sure,” she said. “What do you feel like having?”

  “Good company is my only stipulation.”

  “Oh. I see. Well, that’s much harder to find.”

  “I know,” I said, crossing my arms. “But I’m hoping you can still help me.”

  “What time were you thinking?”

  “I’m not picky.”

  “About anything except the company, I take it?”

  I nodded. “Bingo.”

  “Still. A ballpark idea would be nice.”

  “How about eight o’clock reservations and seven o’clock drinks?”

  “Drinks, too, huh?”

  “Of course,” I said. “I couldn’t expect you to suffer through my company without a little lubricant.”

  “Good point.”

  I smiled, thinking about how wet she got for me last weekend.

  “I think I know the perfect spot.”

  “Well, I trust you implicitly so-”

&nb
sp; “Why don’t you meet me at the Blue Note Lounge at seven?”

  “That sounds great,” I said. “Unless you’d rather I pick you up?”

  “Not at all,” she said. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  “See you then,” she said.

  And then she hung up.

  I hadn’t even asked what she was wearing yet.

  Not that I couldn’t picture it.

  I imagined she was the kind of woman who changed out of her work clothes right away. She probably even hung them up instead of throwing them over a chair. I bet she had ten year old yoga pants she liked to wear at night and a few cozy oversized t-shirts she’d nabbed from ex-boyfriend’s closets.

  And maybe she could cook for herself. Or maybe she got take out every night and ate it with her fingers no matter what it was, licking the sauce off them with her tongue and kissing what she missed off with her lips.

  Then again, she probably used a fork like everybody else.

  But it was still fun to think about her, no matter what she was doing.

  I just hoped she was okay. I wasn’t expecting her to be so brief, especially after her last visit here being so…. Whatever. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that we were going out, and I would have a chance to get to know her better, a chance to see her in her comfort zone.

  And I couldn’t wait.

  I raised my eyes toward the warmly lit backyard, pleased that the sun was taking its time setting. Then I walked to the fridge and pulled out the bread, cheese, and butter, turned the burner on low, and started making the sandwiches while I waited for the pan to heat up.

  Meanwhile, I cringed at the thought of Sophie scraping at the delicate skin on her ankle, hoping with every fiber of my being that she was cursing the moment she ever agreed to that stupid tattoo.

  Unbelievable.

  At least she hadn’t gone and let Lily pierce anything… that I knew of.

  Maybe we’d discuss that over dinner, since the idea of her coming home with a safety pin stuck through her earlobe into a cold baby carrot was enough to give me nightmares.

  But whatever we talked about, my sandwiches would be extra crunchy as promised.

  And with every buttery bite, I would count down the minutes until I could see Addison again.