Medicine Man (Page 77)

I’m doing that.

I took Ruth’s advice. I’m dating.

It doesn’t matter that I’m dating the same man we talk about during sessions but whatever. I’m moving forward with him, the one who makes me happy.

He also makes my kids very happy.

By kids I mean the ones who come to the bookstore for story-time. We’re reading The Half-Blood Prince now, and I ask Simon to read with me, sometimes. He says it’s his favorite in the series, if tolerating something could be called being his favorite.

Whenever Simon reads with me, the kids get so happy. They laugh and cheer at his deep voice and the life that he brings to the scenes.

That’s what he does. He brings life.

It’s so weird and a little bit sad that he still gets surprised when some of them rush over to hug him at the end. Sometimes they even ask for an encore.

He still gets shocked when my eyes well up at seeing him with them. And when I randomly stop him on the street during our dates and kiss him, his first reaction is always a light disbelief.

It’s been a couple of months since he came back into my life and said all those wonderful things. Since then we’ve been dating.

And let me say, we’ve been dating in a very traditional, old-fashioned way where he comes to pick me up at my apartment. Simon is always dressed up, in crisp shirts and nice pants. He brings me flowers, chocolates, lime jello. We go to a nice restaurant and I let him order food for me because it makes me feel cherished. Fuck what people think.

He won’t let me drink though. Only a couple of sips from his glass.

He likes whiskey, and his favorite food is steak. No surprise there. I’ve always imagined him with a tumbler in his hands and cutting into a juicy piece of meat with his big, graceful hands. Oh, and leather. I’ve always imagined him around oak and leather.

Like right now.

We’re in his car, surrounded by expensive leather, having just come back from my mother’s Sunday dinner.

My mom and I, our relationship has improved. In the sense that I told her about my fears and insecurities.

When The Heartstone Incident happened, I told her everything, except the reason I went berserk. She knew I attacked a psychiatrist, and I was so uncontrollable that they had to sedate me. Beth offered to stay with me while I explained but I told her I needed to own up to my actions and I did.

Maybe one day I can tell her why I attacked a doctor and that doctor is also the one I’m dating now. One day I’ll tell her that this time I really did it all over a man, over something as trivial – according to her – as love. She’s not going to be happy about it.

She’s plenty unhappy with the fact that I’m dating at all. An older man and my ex-psychiatrist, no less. That’s why she asked him over for dinner and after putting it off for weeks, I caved in and brought Simon with me.

“Willow?”

I look at him when he calls my name. He’s wearing a dinner jacket that makes him look so dashing and handsome.

I smile. “Hmm?”

He tips his chin at the window. “We’re here.”

My apartment building is blurry through the rainy glass. Vague and distorted. And so not where I wanna be right now.

With a racing heart, I realize I don’t wanna go in there. I don’t wanna leave this car.

“I don’t wanna go,” I repeat my thought to him.

“What? Where?”

His voice is concerned, and it makes me bite my lip and lose my breath. He still does that to me. Still.

Every time I hear his voice roughened with concern or see his gray eyes darken with worry, I fall in love with him all over again. I feel so feminine, so fragile and so cherished that I want to crawl in his lap and ask him to fix everything for me.

And he will, or he’ll die trying.

“I don’t wanna go back to my apartment,” I whisper, studying his features.

He reaches up and turns on the overhead light, making his concern and his frown even more evident. “Why not? What happened?”

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Said what?”

“To my mom.”

His face tightens up in anger.

So yeah, the dinner was a disaster, in more ways than one. First, my mom – my entire family, actually – couldn’t stop grilling him about my stay at Heartstone and all about The Heartstone Incident. Basically, showing how overprotective they are and how I’m the baby of the family.

Simon answered the best he could without giving his part away. He hated it; I know. And that’s why I specifically told him beforehand not to reveal anything.

I already know that Simon is big on consequences and if it were up to him, he would’ve taken all the blame in a heartbeat. But we have enough to deal with right now without adding family censure to the plate. At least more than whatever is on there already.

And second, my mom didn’t make it a secret that she doesn’t like Simon for her one and only daughter. She grilled him about his intentions. At one point, she even went on about leaving me a virgin for my future, real, age-appropriate boyfriend.

That ship has sailed, Mom. So fucking sailed.

It was so painful to watch. Well, until Simon put his foot down and said, “With all due respect, Miss Taylor, your daughter is more than capable of making her own decisions. About her life and about her body. In fact, you’d be surprised at how capable she is. It’s one of the many things I love about her. Her capability. It’s also the one thing that scares me the most. Because I know she doesn’t need me. At least, not as much as I need her. I’ll always respect her decision. That being said, I won’t go down without a fight either. So unless you have more to say, let’s move on to dessert.”

Oh gosh.

This man is so swoony, isn’t he?

Now, I ask him again, “Did you mean what you said to my mom? That you’d fight for me?”

His stormy eyes rove over my face. “Always.”

My breathing escalates, and I take off my seat belt before hopping out of the car, into the pouring rain. The sidewalk is almost empty because it’s the middle of the night and the storm is something fierce.

Simon jumps out after me, all frowny and upset. “What the fuck, Willow? It’s cold. Either get back in the car or get inside your building.”

He is right. It is cold. I’m only wearing a thin pink sweater and my jacket is in the car. But I don’t care. I have to ask him something.

I crane my neck and look at his drenched face. “Do you know why I love the rain?”

“Willow –"

“Because it reminds me of second chances. It makes me think that if this ugly world can be pure after a heavy shower, I can be pure too. I can get all the chances that I want.”

When he asked me for a chance, I wasn’t even reluctant. Every beat of my heart wanted to give him all the chances he wanted.

Maybe it’s stupid to trust someone this much but I do. I’ve always trusted him. I’ve always believed in him. It’s the way he carries himself, with such confidence. It’s the way he cares about people, with such passion.

It’s the way he looks at me, with such intensity and tenderness. He’s always looked at me that way, even when he was keeping parts of himself aloof. That’s what made me believe back then that he loved me too.

He puts his large hands on my arms, rubbing them, instantly warming me in my sweater. “Willow, what –”

“Will you marry me?”

There. I asked him.