A Love Like This (42 page)

I obliged, choosing a fresh fruit tart, and
using my fork, cut into it for a small bite. It was extremely
delicious.

“I’ve always wanted to learn French and
Spanish, since both of those languages are used on my continent,
but I never seem to have the opportunity,” I admitted
sheepishly.

“The best way is to simply immerse yourself
in the culture.” He waved away my apology. “You are here now, and
you will learn quickly. Now, for the story about the locks. You
know Paris is the city of love, yes?”

“I’ve heard that, yes.” I smiled and took
another small bite of the decadent dessert.

“Are you a romantic at heart, Julia?”

“Yes, I suppose I am.”

“And, your husband? Does he lavish you with
romance? All women are beautiful and deserve to be worshiped.”

I let out an embarrassed giggle. “Ryan is
romantic, yes.” The day was turning out to be much better than I’d
thought it would. Ryan would be horrified that I was sharing
dessert and coffee with a complete stranger, but we were in a
public place, and I didn’t feel the least bit threatened. It was so
much more appealing than sitting here alone.

“Yes, well, lovers from around the world
come to Paris and go to the bridges to pledge and seal their love
for all eternity. They write their names or other words of love on
the lock, place it on the fence, and then fling the key into the
river.”

“I did see some of them doing that.”

“Well, it’s said that the only way to break
the seal of love pledged this way is to retrieve the key to unlock
it. Nearly, if not absolutely, impossible.”

“I thought so,” I admitted. “Bridges? There
is more than one?”

He nodded. “Ah, yes. Two. One,
Pont de
l’Archevêché
is for lovers, and the other, the one across from
the Museum,
Pont des Arts,
is for committed love.” He
laughed gently. “I’m sure you can guess that one is much more
crowded than the other.”

My heart warmed at the story, but I cast my
eyes downward to hide the pain behind them. “Yes. There can be many
lovers, but only one true love.”

His icy eyes widened, slightly. “Ahhhh. I
can see you have found him, already. There is no mistaking the soft
glow about you. Whoever he is, he is very lucky, indeed.”

“My husband, of course.”

“Then, you are doubly lucky. So many of us
do not ever find such a love, and the blessing of marriage with the
same person, eh?” He lifted his demitasse to his lips.

“I can’t imagine marrying someone I didn’t
love with all my heart.” My emotions surely flowed over my face,
and I hated that I had no ability to hide the expressiveness of my
features.

He set his espresso back down on the saucer.
“Sadly, this life is filled with many intrusions, and the road to
love is not always a clear one. Quoi qu’il en soit, il serait
beaucoup moins excitant…” he stopped himself and laid a hand on the
front of his suit jacket. “Forgive me. I said it would be so much
less exciting if it were so. Don’t you agree?”

Heat seeped into my cheeks. I could use a
little less excitement at the moment, I thought silently. “Maybe
you will place a lock on
both
bridges before you leave the
city?”

I smiled but took a sip of my coffee instead
of answering, and cringed at its bitterness. The man took note of
my sour face.

“My dear, why do you order this if you do
not enjoy it?”

“I was trying something different, but it’s
much too strong for my liking.”

He began to lift his hand once again. “Can I
get you something else?”

“Thank you, no. I really enjoyed meeting
you, monsieur, but I really must be going.”

“Perhaps we will bump into each other again
one day, madame,” he said pleasantly.

“I’d like that. I’m sure I will visit the
Louvre again.”

“Be sure to visit the other obvious
attractions: the Champs Elysées, Arch of Triumph, Eiffel Tower, and
the Left Bank. The city has so much beauty to behold.”

I stood and the gentleman followed, taking
my coat and holding it while I slid my arms in the sleeves, then he
settled it on my shoulders.

“I won’t. Thank you.”

“A bientôt, ma belle Julia. Au revoir.” He
lifted my hand to his mouth again.

“It’s been a pleasure. Au revoir.” I offered
a smile and small wave and left the little café. My hotel wasn’t
far, but it was colder now that the sun had set. I hailed a passing
taxi, suddenly anxious to get behind closed doors where I could
take a bath and work out my article. And, despite my protests the
night before, I wanted to try calling Ryan again. The melancholy
ache returned, and climbing in the back seat, I dialed his number,
hoping he’d be at lunch and able to talk, but it went straight to
voicemail. His smooth voice rushed through the line, his message
recorded before this mess held a lilt that was missing the last
time we spoke. It sent a shiver racing across my skin. My heart
fell when I wasn’t able to speak to him.

“
I know I asked you not to call… but I’m
thinking about you, and I just wanted to hear your voice…”
a
few seconds ticked off as I struggled with what to say.
“Call me
back.”

I sighed heavily as I finally gave the hotel
address to the driver and sank back in the seat.

“
I know I asked you not to call… but I’m
thinking about you and I just wanted to hear your voice… Call me
back.”

I checked the time stamp on Julia’s message,
proud of myself that I hadn’t touched my phone in a day and a half.
Dawn was breaking and she’d sent this yesterday afternoon. It took
everything I had but I respected her request for no contact, yet
she called
me!
A mixture of anger, conflict, and agony
thundered through me. I wanted to throw my fucking phone through
the wall just so I wouldn’t call her back. I was trying to give her
what she wanted, and now she was the one caving in, after I poured
my guts out, and she wouldn’t say she loved me back? She still
wasn’t saying it, and that was killing me. Didn’t she know I needed
those words?
She was missing me when she’s the one who left?
Fuck that.

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard at the
sudden tightness in my throat. I tried to clear it but it wouldn’t
budge. Kari and Caleb’s eyes followed me as I passed them, walking
behind the station to make notes on a computer file from my last
patient. My brain wouldn’t shut off. Every time a date or time
appeared on the screen, on the wall clock, on the calendar… Each
tick screamed that it was one more hour gone; one more day between
me and Julia… one more second closer to the end of us. I was
convinced that the longer she was gone, the less likely she’d be to
ever come back to me. It seemed fucking unreal that this could even
be happening. We were supposed to be invincible.

When she finally called a day and half after
she disappeared, I’d forgotten my brother was listening and made an
ass of myself, crying my eyes out and literally begging her not to
throw us away. I could barely face him at the end of it, even
though he respected me by not mentioning how I fell apart.
Afterward, I closed myself in the bathroom because I wanted to be
alone with my misery, and memories of Julia were on every surface
of the bedroom. I sat on the cold tile for hours nursing the bottle
of scotch until I passed out. I avoided alcohol poisoning by
unspeakable puking in the early morning hours. I fell asleep
hanging onto the toilet for dear life after the dry heaves had left
my abdominals aching and eyes tearing. I felt like hell, and I
looked even worse as I left for the hospital after I told Aaron to
go back to Boston. I didn’t need anyone witnessing this bullshit.
My head pounded like a motherfucker, and I had a hard time giving a
shit about anything.

Caleb came out of one of the examining rooms
and put his hand on my shoulder in concern. “It’s about time for a
break, Ryan. You’ve been at it for almost twenty-four hours, man.
Go home.”

I nodded and shrugged away from his touch.
It wasn’t personal, but I just couldn’t stand to be around anyone
other than patients, and anyone touching me had me feeling
claustrophobic. When he asked me if I needed to talk, I simply
shook my head and walked away. I relived every second of the last
few weeks in my head, again and again, so I sure as hell didn’t
need to do it in stereo surround sound.

I avoided Jane like the plague, scowling
whenever she made eye contact. Something akin to hatred had taken
root deep in my gut. Probably, the whole thing was my own fault,
but she seriously hurt Julia, and I’d never forgive her for that.
The protectiveness that I’d always felt reared, even though I
played a big part in what happened. I vacillated between regret,
wanting to call and beg forgiveness, and raging anger that she
could ever leave me like that. Underneath it all was a deep-seated
sadness that closed around my very soul and haunted every
moment.

I took Dr. Jameson, the attending physician,
aside and requested that he not schedule me with Jane. I didn’t
care if I had to work 72 hours straight; I needed to stay as far
away from that woman as possible. I laughed bitterly when he asked
if I wanted to file a harassment suit. That was too fucking funny,
and I just shook my head and went back to work amid a bunch of
hushed whispers between the nurses. I was this close to standing in
the middle of the ER and explaining the entire fucking mess. At
least then I wouldn’t have to suffer their speculation, and one
aspect of my life could return to normal. I needed something normal
in this cluster fuck; one thing to hang onto.

I tried really hard to maintain my anger
because it was easier to deal with than the pain. I wanted to hate
Julia, but it was all I could do not to call her back the minute I
heard her voice. My back and my resolve stiffened as I grabbed my
stuff and headed home for the night. The last place I wanted to be
was in that empty apartment.

I stared, unseeing, on the subway and
somehow pushed through the door an hour later. Julia’s absence was
tangible; like the breath was gone from my life. I couldn’t stand
being here. At least at work, I had something to concentrate on
other than the giant hole in my chest. I dropped my coat on the
floor near my shoes, not bothering to eat. I resisted the urge to
call the magazine to see if Andrea would give the information that
would save my life. I fell heavily onto the couch, turning my face
into the cushion. The morning sun shone in brightly through the
open blinds, but I didn’t have the energy to get up and shut them.
I took the phone off of the waist of my scrub pants and roughly
shoved it away. I don’t know why I expected her to call when I’d
ignored two messages. My heart seized and my eyes burned like a
son-of-a-bitch. I closed them, but all I saw in my mind was
Julia.

After a few minutes ticked by with each
sickening thud of my heart, I made a decision. I’d be damned if I
was going to lie here all day and fall to pieces. I summoned the
strength to get up and go to the bedroom. Our wedding picture
confronted me on the dresser, and her scent assaulted my nostrils.
I sucked it in before I could stop myself, and it only made her
absence more concrete. There was no way I’d be able to sleep in
this room. I pulled three drawers open and dumped the contents on
the bed, and filling my arms with the pile of boxers, socks,
scrubs, sweats, and T-shirts, I carried everything into the spare
room and dumped it on the floor in the corner of room.

I quickly changed into grey sweat pants, one
of my Harvard T-shirts and an old Stanford hoodie. I shoved my feet
in my Nikes and fingered the ear buds of my iPod in my ears,
cranking the heavy metal playlist up. I pulled up the hood of the
sweatshirt, banged out of the apartment, and rushed out of the
building, heading toward Central Park at a jog. My goal was to push
myself to the limit, sweat and burn until I couldn’t run one more
step, and I’d forced my resistant lungs to expand. When my legs
were so spent they were shaking, I went to the gym to lift and box.
I found someone to spot me, and I relentlessly hit and kicked the
bag until I couldn’t breathe and my muscles shook with exhaustion.
I wanted physical pain, as bad as I could stand it. I wanted
exhaustion so I could sleep. Anything was better than the ache in
my chest.