Medicine Man (Page 78)

I’ve been meaning to ask him this… well, ever since we left my mother’s house.

I know. I know that we just started dating, like, two months ago. We haven’t even jumped back into sex yet. And it was my decision to take it slow. Imagine that.

But every time he comes to my door to take me out, right on the clock, and every time he listens to me when I’ve had a bad day or reminds me about my pills like I could ever forget, or every time he talks to me about his bad day, it makes me think that we’re meant to do this forever.

Every time he opens up about his past a little more, telling me how his mom’s favorite color was red – I definitely know that woman in the photo is his mom, or that she was the one who taught him to climb trees – I now, know that the girl he mentioned in our first appointment, the one he was trying to impress with his tree-climbing abilities was his mom, he immerses me even more in his life.

I even got to see his house, the house he was fixing while working at Heartstone. He hired people to fix it for him and it’s on the market now. He found himself a nice apartment here, in the city, instead.

I put my hand on his chest and go up on my tiptoes to kiss his parted lips. “Will you? Marry me, I mean.”

It was supposed to be a small peck on his wildly breathing lips, but he winds his arms around my waist and crushes me to him. My breasts flatten against his hard chest and he thrusts his tongue inside.

Sighing, I let him mold me to his body and invade my mouth.

I’m his, anyway. He can do whatever he wants with me. Just as I start to kiss him back though, he pulls away.

“No,” he growls.

“What?”

“My answer,” he pants, staring into my eyes, “is no.”

Gasping, I sputter, “What… why… why not?”

“Because it shouldn’t be your question. It should be my question. I should be asking it.”

I can feel his chest punching into mine with his out of control breaths. His erratic breathing rhythm is messing with my rhythm, and I shove at him.

“Then why haven’t you?”

He looks at the sky as if he’s exasperated. “Because, Willow, you’re young. You’re so fucking young. And you’re impulsive.”

I glare at him, though it’s hard to do that in the rain. “Are you saying I’m not your type?”

Simon cups my cheek, tilting my neck. “I’m saying that you’re asking me to marry you and you haven’t even said it yet.”

His rainy, musky smell is driving me wild. God, I want this man with every cell, every single atom in my body, and he’s saying no to me.

“Said what?”

“That you love me.”

I’m taken aback. “I… I haven’t?”

His laugh is humorless. “No.”

I know he tells me every day. I know that. That’s the best part of my day. He says it right when he’s about to leave me for the night and go back to his apartment. I take those three words and sleep with them under my pillow. Well, after I make myself come with his name on my lips.

But I didn’t realize that I hadn’t said it yet. I say it to myself all the time.

Oh my God, does he not know?

His expression is a little ticked off, and I realize that maybe he’s been waiting for me to tell him all this time.

Idiot. How can he not know?

“Maybe I haven’t said it yet because…” I search for words. “Because what I feel for you is more than love. It’s… it’s happiness. You make me happy, Simon. I mean, as much as I can be. I know you said that I could do whatever I wanted to. I could be happy, if I wanted to. You said that I don’t need you for that. And maybe that’s true. Maybe I would’ve been happy someday. Maybe my smile would’ve reached my eyes. But I would’ve always, always looked for you. I would’ve stopped laughing just to search for you because I would’ve wanted to share it with you. But more than that… I would’ve wanted to share my tears with you. And you know what, even if I were crying and you were there, my world wouldn’t look so dark. So bleak. I would find some sliver of happiness even when I was sad. My mind wouldn’t be able to get my heart down because you were with me. Don’t you know that already, you moron? That’s, like the biggest, most gigantic thing anyone could ever do for me. You make my sadness not so… sad.”

I’m crying now. He knows it, even though it’s raining, and you can’t tell. He can always tell, though.

My hero.

“Fuck, Willow. Stop talking,” Simon groans against my lips.

Of course, I don’t listen. “I love you seems so little for what you are to me, Simon. But I do. I love you and I wanna be your wife. Even though I ruined everything for you.”

“Stop talking, Willow.”

The Heartstone Incident wasn’t only bad for me. It was bad for him, too. Simon hasn’t gone back to work because this time the rumors are worse. There’s a hint of truth to them. He says he doesn’t want to go back to work – not yet, at least – and he’s focusing on writing a book about bipolar patients and their care.

Not to mention, he’s spending some time in therapy about the issues relating to his mom’s suicide, and how he spent his childhood taking care of her.

But what if they never take him back? The lawsuit has been settled by Mass General, but what if this time around, even without the legal repercussions, his career is basically over?

I fist the lapels of his jacket. “I’m sorry, Simon. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for putting myself in danger and basically outing our secret. I never wanted anyone to find out. I never wanted to do that to you or to myself. I’m so sorry, Simon. I’m an idiot.”

“Stop. Talking.”

Obviously, I keep talking. “I-I know how difficult I can be. I know that. I know living with me, with someone like me won’t be a picnic. And I can’t ask anyone to do that, you know. Like, marry me and have babies with me because you never know if my babies are gonna come out like me or –”

He presses my cheeks together, almost making duck lips. “Shut the fuck up, Willow.”

I still try to open my mouth but his glare cuts me off.

When he’s satisfied that I won’t say another word, he eases the pressure off my cheeks. His jaw is working back and forth and a second later, he asks, “Are you trying to hurt me?”

I shake my head, quickly.

“Then stop fucking blaming yourself for what happened that day. It was me. I said all those things to you because I was a coward. Your love scared me so much that I lashed out. I pushed you away. But it’s over now. It’s fucking over, and the last thing I care about is a job. I can get another one. Do you know how famous I am in the psychiatry field?”

I shake my head again.

“I’m pretty fucking famous,” he tells me. “And that’s because I worked my ass off to get where I wanted to go. Yeah, I’ve made mistakes and yes, some things take a bit longer to blow over, but whatever. I can make my way back, if I want to. Right now, I don’t care so much. I’m happy with some time on my hands and focusing on me and you. Do you understand?”

With wide eyes, I nod.

His lips twitch.

“Can I talk now?” I whisper.

“You are talking.”

I glare at him but decide to let it go. “So are you going to marry me?”