Here is the next chapter everyone!! I'm crazy proud of it and I hope that all of my amazing readers enjoy it! =) -Bri
Chapter Two
“I seriously don’t know how I did it after I saw that shirt…he was just staring at me.” I ranted to Julie the next morning as she checked over one of her patient’s wounds as I held the annoyed cat in place.
“Were you surprised at the shirt or was it the pain of missing him that you only realized when you saw his picture?” Julie asked as she glanced at me, reading my face like an open book, in the way that only best friends can.
I shrugged. “I’m not sure.” An idea occurred to me as I realized a way to get my mind off a certain 27-year-old. “When’s your next day off?” I knew I should know that kind of information, but I was a little distracted, give me a break.
“Monday, maybe.” Julie thought for a minute as she quickly removed the stitches that held the incision together with a sharp scalpel. “Yeah, I think that’s it—why?”
My words tumbled out of my mouth as I gave voice to my hypothetical plans. “I think I want to tell Nick.”
Julie’s gloved fingers slipped over the blade she held, drawing blood, and curses, from my best friend. “OUCH! What?”
I heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m really not sure, I just keep thinking it’s time.”
“I think five years ago was time.” Julie intoned unhelpfully as she left the cat in my hands and went over to the sink to clean her cuts, the cat yowling it’s protest at being ignored.
“Well things got in the way.” I murmured, glancing down the hallway to where Amy and Skylar were developing x-rays for a dog with a broken toe.
“Like?” Julie prompted, returning to duck her head underneath the cat’s belly to continue removing the thread.
“Like the fact that I was three months pregnant with a supposedly pure rockstar’s baby.” I retorted, holding the cat’s front paws as it tried to claw us.
Julie laughed. “That had to be awkward.”
“You were there!” I reminded her. “You were my roommate and brought me all my craving supplies!”
My best friend glared at me. “You knew what I meant.” She paused. “And yes, I remember.” She shuddered dramatically. “Ice cream and pickles, NASTY.”
“It was good!” I defended then giggled and paused. “Well, it was at the time.”
Julie scoffed. “Okay, I’m taking you and Sky to dinner tonight so that she doesn’t end up eating pickles and ice cream and that I can try to talk you through telling Nick.”
One of the receptionists came back and handed me a file. “They want to see you specially, Allie.” I shrugged, this was nothing new; all our clients had preferences.
“Go.” Julie shooed me away, calling Steven(who had left the room when we started girl talking) to come help her as I composed myself and entered the room, looking forward to that night, ready to perfect my plan, the excitement and adrenaline pushing me forward.
Skylar had voted on Italian, so the three of us found ourselves at one of the many local pizza places that lined the mini-boardwalk that stretched across the beach, Wilmington Beach to be exact, right on the coast of North Carolina. Skylar dragged me to one of the tables outside and Julie cheerfully followed, knowing well Skylar’s love for the ocean. A few minutes after our food arrived, Skylar spotted Adri and with my permission, bolted off to go say hi.
“Are you seriously going to tell him?” Julie had never been one to wait, instead, diving directly into the heart of the matter.
I sighed, playing with the cotton napkin beside me. “I’m not sure.”
She gasped. “Allison Baker, if you back out…” The threat went unfinished as she glared at me.
“I will be in deep trouble?” I guessed, grinning at her.
“Deep trouble.” She stressed as my attention wafted over the other patrons. I stiffened as I saw a brunette that looked familiar. After almost two years of obsession and four years of knowing him personally, I couldn’t mistake the straight dark hair that hung to the nape of his neck.
“I’ve been warned.” I pulled my gaze back to her, smiling slightly. “But I don’t really wanna talk about it.”
She grimaced. “Sorry.” Our conversation was interrupted as our food arrived and I grudgingly called Skylar back to the table to eat.
I’m not sure what compelled me to do it, that night especially, but after Skylar went to bed, I crept downstairs to one of the closets and pulled out my ‘Nick’ box. It sat on top of a large pile of boyfriend boxes, all stacked chronologically, but none sat above his. Since Skylar had been born, I’d always made excuses to any potential dates, much to Julie and Amy’s chagrin. My excuses had included the norm: baby, school, work, etc. Sometimes I had thought about going, but as I would open my mouth to accept, an image had always stopped me, abruptly turning my ‘yes’ to ‘no’. Nick Jonas is who would appear to me at those times, reminding me that no matter what I tried to tell myself, no matter how hard I tried to believe it, my heart was gone, given away, taken.
I pulled the heavy box to the living room and sat on the white carpet, situating the box between my legs. I took a deep breath, realizing that cardboard still retained the scent that was completely indescribable; that was uniquely Nick. I hesitantly slid back the top, almost afraid of what I might find. A harmless photo album lay on top, the cover reading(in my looping cursive) “Nick and Allie 2011-2015”. The simple words made my heart pang and my blood rush at the thought that once upon a time there had been a Nick and Allie. I set to the side, plunging my hand into the depths of the box, my fingers closing around a small object. I opened my palm to reveal an engagement ring, or, more accurately, a wax form of an engagement ring. As I ran my fingers over the silver form(it had been dyed to match the actual one), the memory rushed from it’s hiding place in a forgotten and uncharted corner of my brain.
Nick and I tended to have long, in-depth discussions about marriage. Not necessarily about our wedding, but just marriage in general. The concept, the ceremony, the receptions, the accessories…which is where my ring came into play. After one such a drawn-out conversation, this one actually in person as Nick had flown down to see me, he had pulled me downtown to look at rings after we had gotten into a particularly intense debate about the expression and significance of engagement/wedding rings. Once we were there and after the jeweler had pulled out the cases of rings, Nick had suggested that I pick on out. I had refused initially, but he had pointed one out and before I knew what I was doing, I had wandered over to one of the other cases and had pulled one out, turning it over in my hands. It was silver, a darker silver than I’d ever seen in a ring, it’s color enhanced by the two emeralds than sat on either side of a tiny diamond. The diamond itself was perfect; it was a square-cut, nestled into the thin band, protruding just slightly past the emeralds, their green accenting almost-blinding white of the diamond, the two colors never mixing but encouraging each other. A sigh of admiration had escaped my lips, drawing Nick to my side.
“It looks like something you would pick.” He’d told me honestly, pulling my gaze off the ring and into his deep brown eyes that were filled with love as he looked at me. I’d blushed at being caught and had hurriedly put the ring away. The jeweler had then offered the wax version, so finely crafted that, had it been next to the original, would have made it hard to tell them apart. Before I could give audio to my protest, Nick had graciously accepted it, slipping it into his pocket and guiding me from the little store, his hand on the small of my back, the touch sending tingles up my spine. After we’d gotten in the car, he’d dug in his pocket and offered me the ring.
"Try it." He’d prompted, watching as I hesitantly slid it onto my left ring finger. I had taken off my purity ring almost two months before, giving it to Nick, who'd responded in kind. My excuse had been that it was getting dirty(no pun intended) when I worked on the animals in class; Nick's being that it was in the way when he played. At any rate, both of our left hands were bare, or at least mine had been. As I’d looked at the wax form on my finger I’d fallen more and more in love with it.
"It's beautiful." I breathed, Nick leaning on my shoulder, the car still in park, his curls brushing my neck and just under my ear, making me shiver pleasantly.
"Beautiful ring"-he’d agreed, long delicate fingers trailing on the bare skin between the hemline of my shirt and waistband of my jeans- “even prettier girl.”
I’d blushed and smiled at my boyfriend of four years. “You’re corny.” I’d whispered, attempting to be severe as my thoughts had threatened to run far out of the realms of appropriate with him being so close, so tantalizing. I’d leaned the few inches between us and kissed him, his hand on my waist pulling me closer, into the divider between our seats. His every kiss would send glowing feelings out to every corner of my body.
Two days later I found out he had gone and bought the ring. He had admitted to it, but also told me that he was willing to wait months or years, but in typical Nick-fashion, he wanted to be prepared.
Four days later I found out I was pregnant.
Five days later I ended the relationship.
Secretly, I wandered if he still had the ring. I had been sure to avoid any news concerning him or the family, so I had no clue if he was single, dating, or –my insides turned to ice at the thought- married.
