Page 74 of Parallel

I already knew yesterday the risk to my career no longer mattered to me. It was only the remaining question of ethics that kept me from driving back here last night and begging Quinn to give me a chance. As her doctor, it’s possible I hold more sway over her than I would otherwise. But I also know this isn’t the classic case of a vulnerable patient and predatory doctor. I know her. My very bones remember her in ways my brain can’t quite catch up with.

And when I woke this morning, I realized there was no longer time to sit around debating—I could go for it, or I could become Grosbaum, growing old still longing for someone who didn’t come back to me.

The decision was made, but I never dreamed it would take me eleven fucking hours to get ahold of her. By the time she finally calls, I’ve spent so long worried she had another seizure that I’m almost as angry as I am relieved.

“Thank God,” I say when I answer, before she’s even said a word. How could she have let me go that long, unsure if she was even alive? “Why the hell was your phone off?” I demand, pacing the room.

“Why the hell was your girlfriend visiting you at the lake?” she replies. The question—and how hurt and angry she sounds asking it—stops me short.

“What?”

“I saw Meg,” she says. Her swallow is audible. “At the market by your parents’ house this morning. Talking about her boyfriend and his Jeep. I just don’t understand how you could say the things you did yesterday and—” Her voice breaks.

I’m so confused right now. But my anger disappeared the moment I realized how upset she was. “Quinn…I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not even at the lake. I came home this morning to see you and you never answered your phone once.”

“But then—” She stops and takes a deep breath. “But then why was she out there?”

I lean on the counter and run a hand through my hair. None of this makes sense. Why the fuck would Meg have gone to the lake? I saw a voicemail from her this morning but didn’t check it. The more important question, to me, is why Quinn was there. “I have no idea. I didn’t invite her and I haven’t seen her since last week. But…why were you there?”

“I wanted to see you,” she admits quietly. “But then she was at the market…so I left.”

I’m dumbfounded. What I have with Quinn is something I wouldn’t be able to replace in a year or a decade or a century—how could she possibly have believed otherwise? “I would never have done that. There is no one for me but you. Not today and not a year from now. So if you stay with Jeff—”

“I didn’t,” she says quietly. “That’s why I came to the lake. I ended things this morning.”

The relief is so sweet and sharp that for a moment I’m speechless. “Thank God,” I finally whisper. There is so much more I want to say to her right now, but not like this. I need to see her face. I need her to see I mean every word of it. “Where are you? This isn’t a conversation I want to have over the phone.”

“I’m at my mom’s, up in Pennsylvania,” she says. “I’m coming back tomorrow night.”

Not soon enough. Now that I’ve spent an entire day wondering if I’ve lost her, there’s not a chance I’m waiting twenty-four hours to really know she’s mine. I grab my keys and head for the Jeep. “Give me your address.”

“In Pennsylvania?” she asks. “Are you serious?”

I’ve never been more serious in my life.

It’s just after ten when I pull up to her mother’s house.

I’m halfway up the walk when she steps outside the door. I don’t slow my pace. I keep going until she’s in my arms.

“I can’t believe you came all the way up here,” she whispers.

“I can’t believe you thought for a fucking second I could want anyone but you,” I reply. My lips press to her brow, to her eyelids, her temples, the blade of her cheek, the soft spot just below her ear, until I finally find her mouth. She tastes like mint and sugar, and I could spend a hundred years just doing this—memorizing the contour of her lips, relishing the small, solid warmth of her.

She rests her forehead against my chest. “But…can’t you get in trouble for this?”

Yes, and I no longer care. “I don’t think we have to worry about it too much. As long as we’re careful.”

She cocks a brow. “That isn’t what I asked.”

I’m tempted to lie because I know exactly how she’s going to react to the truth. But she’s it—the person I want forever, or for as long as I can have her. For once in my life I want to be an open book. “I could, in theory, lose my medical license if someone made a big enough deal out of it.”

She jerks backward. “You could lose your license for good? But…” She trails off, crestfallen. “You can’t risk that. I mean, how long would something with us even last? I might not even be—”

I pull her back to me. “Stop. We have no idea how long you have, and I’m sure as hell not going to let some vaguely possible consequence keep me away from you, so don’t even suggest it.” I exhale heavily. The next part has to be said, no matter how much I’d like to skip it. “But I need to be sure that this is really okay. You’re relying on me to treat you, and you shouldn’t feel like there are strings attached. To anyone outside of us, this situation would look kind of predatory. You’re in a vulnerable position and—” My words trail off. They sound even worse out loud than they did in my head.

She slaps a palm to her forehead. “Predatory? Are you kidding me? I wanted you long before any of this began. Before I even knew about the brain tumor, I was trying to stop dreaming about you. And ever since you kissed me yesterday, I’ve been unable to think about anything else, which I can assure you has nothing to do with your ability to heal my brain.”

My eyes flicker to her mouth, uncertain. I push her hair back from her face, palms on her cheeks. “Does this mean you’re mine now?”