Sticky Situationship (It’s Complicated)

10. Brock

Brock

L ibby spins on fuzzy sock-covered feet and rushes to the oven, her messy bun of unruly curls bobbing. The scent of vanilla fills the air, but it’s nothing compared to the intoxicating hint of her familiar floral shampoo. I follow inside, my heart racing as I close the door behind me.

Suddenly, a sharp hiss escapes her lips as a pan of cupcakes clatters onto an electric coil on the range.

“Shit!” Libby yanks her hand back, cradling it in a dishtowel against her chest.

I’m at her side in an instant, closing the oven door with my foot.

“Let me see.” I reach for her hand, eyeing the damp terrycloth towel she used as an oven mitt with disdain.

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning away and inspecting her finger. “It’s barely first-degree.” The stubborn set of her jaw is achingly familiar. This is the Libby I know and love. Even hurt, she’s determined to handle everything on her own.

“Libby, please,” I breathe. “I am trained paramedic with extensive experience with burns. Let me help you.”

For a moment, I’m sure she’s going to refuse again. Then her shoulders slump, and she turns back, extending her hand. The pad of her index finger is already turning an angry red, and I wince, even as I want to smile. Because she’s letting me in. There’s still hope she’ll listen to me tonight.

“Come on,” I murmur, guiding her to the sink. As I turn on the cold water, I press closer, unable to resist the yearning deep inside to reconnect with her after these last few days apart.

She hisses as the water hits her burn but doesn’t pull away. I hold her wrist gently in my grasp and stroke the soft skin of her pulse point with my thumb. God, I’ve missed touching her. Missed seeing her. Missed everything about her.

“What would your girlfriend think if she saw you now?” she asks, but there’s no bite to her words.

I look down, my heart breaking at the sight of the dark circles under her eyes and the tension in her shoulders. She’s beautiful, even exhausted and stressed. In part, thanks to me and my lies.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, Libby.”

Her emerald eyes narrow. “Did you break up with her?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I know what my mom said, but I need to explain.”

She flinches and tries to draw away. I don’t want to let her go, but I release my grip and watch as she shuts off the water and circles the counter, putting distance between us even in this tiny space.

“Fine,” she insists with an icy edge in her tone. “Tell me. The truth.”

I press both palms flat on the counter and hold her gaze. “There was no girlfriend. There’s only been you.”

She blinks, confusion replacing the guarded look in her eyes. “But Dr. Novak said…”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I lied to her, to my family. I told them I had a girlfriend, so they’d stop trying to set me up.”

“Dr. Novak, er…I mean, your mom tried to set you up?” The words are laced with amusement. And incredulity.

“A dozen times, at least. And my sister, too. I couldn’t stand it anymore. Not when, from the moment I met you, I knew there was no one else for me.”

A small gasp escapes her lips, and I press on, determined to lay it all out there. “I know we agreed to no strings, but I’ve been falling for you since that first night. Do you remember? You opened the door and this place was filled with smoke. You were coughing up a lung, the cupcakes were burned to a crisp, and you were standing there in your bra and—”

“It was a sports bra.”

“That it was.”

A hint of a smile tugs at her lips. “And that scene made you think, ‘Hmm, this girl next door is something?’”

Disbelief colors her voice, but I nod. “You were beautiful that night and are even more gorgeous now,” I say, skirting the counter but not touching her. Not yet. “Because I’ve gotten to know you, Libby Bauer, and every moment I’ve spent with you, every detail you’ve shared has only made me fall harder.”

Her lower lip tucks between her teeth, and she shakes her head, still wary.

“I love you, Libby,” I say, the words catching in my throat because they’re the truth. And because I’ve never told a woman I’ve loved her. Because until Libby, I didn’t know how it felt to lose myself completely to another soul. “I love your brilliance, your determination, your compassion. I love how you always push yourself to be better and how—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to; believe me. I wanted you to be the girlfriend I could bring to Sunday dinner, but I thought I’d ruin what we had if I said anything. I was going to drop some hints the other night. I ordered dinner and bought flowers and—what?” I ask, when her expression goes slack, and she swallows hard.

“What?” I repeat when she glances down, but not before I catch the dismay clouding her grass green eyes.

“Nothing,” she insists, but her brow furrows as she looks off, out the window, to the pitch black winter night.

“Tell me,” I whisper, inching closer. “Whatever it is, I want to know.”

Her eyes are moist when she turns to face me. “The other night, I was going to break off things with you.”

My stomach lurches at her quiet confession. She was going to end things? I struggle to find words, my mouth suddenly as dry as the winter air outside. I step back, giving her the space she obviously wants. So much for signaling a lane change. I hold up both hands. “I guess we’re on two different pages. I’m sorry. I—”

“No,” she exclaims, grabbing my arm. “We’re not. I… I was going to break off things only because I’m not ready for my boards. Your mom even thinks so.”

“My mom?”

“Yes, at least, I think she does. After this morning, I’m not sure what she believes anymore, actually.”

“But what does that have to do with me?”

“Because,” Libby says, as if it’s plain as day, “I need to be studying for my boards right now, and instead, I really want to spend every free minute I have with you, even though I was the one who insisted on no strings attached.”

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears as the knot in my stomach loosens and relief floods through me, so intense it’s almost dizzying.

“Libby,” I murmur, erasing the distance between us and cupping her face in my hands. “I know how much being a board-certified physician means to you. How you’ve dreamed of nothing else ever since your father passed away. And I wouldn’t dare do anything to get in the way of that.”

She sniffles and lays her hands on my hips. “Can you bear with me for the next few months while I focus on passing my boards? I mean, I barely have time to sleep, let alone—”

“Hey,” I interrupt gently. “I’m not asking for anything you can’t give. Plus, we wouldn’t be standing here right now if you hadn’t forgotten to set a timer and fallen asleep because you were spending every waking hour studying. I want to be with you, however I can fit into your life. If that means quizzing you on infectious disease protocols or making sure you eat something other than cupcakes, I’m in.”

A genuine smile, albeit a small one, breaks across her face. But to me, it’s bright enough to light up the entire apartment. “You’d put up with me for the next two months? Even with all the stress and sleepless nights?”

I lean in, resting my forehead against hers. “First, I can think of a few ways to help relieve some of that stress, and second, I’d put up with you forever if you’d let me.”

She laughs, and the sound sends warmth spreading through my chest. And then she’s rising on her toes, pressing her lips to mine. The kiss is soft at first, but then her arms wind around my neck, and I pull her closer, giving every ounce of myself over to the sensation. She tastes like vanilla and promises, and I never want to let her go.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless. Libby’s cheeks are flushed, her lips slightly swollen, and the curls escaping her bun are framing her face. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.

“So,” I say, unable to keep the grin off my face. “Does this mean I can officially call you my girlfriend now?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, too. “I suppose so. But does this mean I have to go to Sunday dinner at Dr. Novak’s?”

“Yes, but she’s one of your biggest fans.”

Libby arches an eyebrow.

“Really,” I insist, tipping my head toward the Tupperware on the counter. “She even sent dinner for you when I left before we sat down to eat tonight.”

Her eyes twinkle. “In a rush to get somewhere, were you?”

“I’m just sorry it took so long for me to come to my senses.”

“Me, too,” she says, squeezing me tight. “But what’s in the other box?”

I return the hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “A chocolate cupcake.”

“My favorite.”

“I know.”

My stomach growls, the sound audible in the quiet. But before I can ask if I can fix her a plate, her hands slide south and grab my ass, tugging me against her. “Any chance dinner can wait?”