Page 30 of Bedazzled
“I’m coming over,” she said fiercely, “we’ll talk and work this out.”
Rubbing my eyes, I shook my head. “No, it’s past midnight and knowing you, you have clinical rounds in the morning. I’m going to go home and process this by breaking some shit.”
“I don’t care! I need to be with you.” I have not heard Ella this furious in forever. I was not sure Maksim was going to be keeping his nuts after this little revelation.
“Let’s talk tomorrow, I’m just turning down my street now,” I said. “Maybe you’ll have more information and maybe I won’t feel like setting Yuri on fire.”
“Tan, honey. You know I will come right now,” she promised.
“I know, and I love you for it. Can you come over tomorrow night instead?”
“Yes. Absolutely. But text me in the morning so I know you didn’t fly to St. Petersburg and beat the hell out of him, okay? Or if you do want to go to St. Petersburg and beat the hell out of him, I want to be there to watch.” This was why Ella had always been my best friend.
“I know you would,” I managed to laugh. “Thanks. Talk tomorrow. I love your guts.”
“Love your guts,” she said. “Tomorrow. We’ll fix this.”
Ending the call, I stared at my phone. Clicking the contacts, I selected Yuri, blocked his number, and deleted the contact. How long had I waited for him to come to his senses and call me?
“There’s no fixing this one,” I whispered.
The following month passed by in a stumbling kind of mental fog. Instead of drinking myself unconscious every night, I tried running with Ella in Central Park. That sucked.
I tried hot yoga.
Yoga with goats in the park.
Weight training until I broke my big toe after dropping a weight on my foot.
I went to the book club in my building.
I tried salsa dancing lessons but they reminded me of dancing with Yuri in my living room and I left halfway through the lesson but promised the instructor I would give him a really good Yelp review because he looked so disappointed.
And then I just… didn’t do anything. I went to work. Came home.
Until my doorbell rang one night and when I opened the door, Patrick was standing there, back from the dead.
Chapter Ten
In which a terribly ill-conceived rescue plan is made.
Tania…
“Patrick!”I half screamed it and he stared at me like I just farted in church.
“Keep it down, will ya?” He took me by the arm and hustled me back through the door, shutting it behind us.
“Wha- dude, I thought you were gone!” I swallowed down a lump in my throat. I was not going to cry even if this insane Irish ginger rose from the dead to knock on my door. No more tears. “How are you here? Where have you been?”
He ran a hand down his face, chuckling. “What a greeting! I almost think you like me.”
“Are you kidding me right now?” I was patting him gently, like the world’s most awkward frisking. “I- I saw you die! I was trying to stop the bleeding and there was so much how-”
“Are you patting me down for weapons or something?” Patrick asked, looking adorably confused.
“No, I’m just trying to make sure you’re real and not some sad figment of my imagination. I have enough of those,” I muttered.
Looking up at him, I cringed. He looked all kind and sympathetic - like I didn’t get enough of that shit these days. But the boy was raggedy-looking. Pale, and a lot thinner than his usual bulky self.
