Don’t Mind If “I Do” by Everly Ashton

Twenty-Eight

Almost ten years ago…

Nick

What a brutal shift. I’m working the ER for this part of my residency, and a multi-vehicle pile-up during rush hour this afternoon sent multiple traumas to the hospital. We were slammed, trying to assess the injuries and determine the best course of action.

One guy coded on my table, but I revived him. Which was such a rush.

But the adrenaline spike has long left my system and I’m beat as I head to my locker to gather my things. My shift should have ended late this afternoon, but now it’s the middle of the night.

I grab my cell phone from my locker and read Mazzy’s messages.

Fuck.

I didn’t forget about my plans for tonight—I’d been looking forward to them all day. But when people’s lives are on the line, I have to concentrate on the task at hand. Tonight that meant keeping the victims of a drunk driving accident alive.

Guilt and trepidation coat me like a layer of thick paint. She must be upset, angry, worried even. Maz probably had everything planned perfectly to make sure it was a wonderful night. One years in the making. Us finally crossing that line to explore what the future could hold.

But after last night and knowing I’m going to disappoint her, I doubt our decision to cross that line. She deserves better than someone who can’t promise her a lousy dinner date due to his work. Mazzy is… special. I’ve always known she was, but until recently, I could pretend seeing her date other guys didn’t eat away at my insides. They’re all the same—privileged rich kids who expect the world to fall at their feet. Guys like my brother. There’s no denying I grew up in the same privileged life, but I like to think it doesn’t define me. I’m doing all I can to head in a different direction. But now I wonder if maybe that direction is away from Mazzy.

I change out of my scrubs into my street clothes and decide to hit the small twenty-four-hour gift shop in the hospital. They have a small coffee machine behind the counter, and I could use a jolt to my system before I head to Mazzy’s to explain myself.

“Hey,” I say to the older gentleman behind the counter. “Can I get a large coffee, please? Black.”

“Sure thing.” He sets his paper on the glass case and turns to pour my cup.

As I pull out my wallet, I glance at the newspaper. There’s a picture of a charity function from a couple nights prior, and in the picture is Mazzy, dressed in an evening gown with a glass of champagne in her hand and a smile on her face as she talks with a couple of the guests. She’s always been so good at that—hobnobbing and making small talk with a bunch of rich pricks. She helps to raise a lot of money for a lot of good causes that way.

Another sign that this is where she belongs—here in Boston, among the elite and making the world a better place for the less fortunate. I want to make a difference, but I want to get away from here once my residency is complete. I want nothing to do with high society and I’ve never really told Mazzy that.

The man passes me my coffee over the counter. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” I hand him a five-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

I nod and leave the hospital. Rather than hail a taxi, I opt to walk the seven blocks to Mazzy’s condo building. Everything I was so sure about a day ago is suddenly causing panic to well up in my chest. I reach her building, say a quick hello to the doorman, and head up on the elevator.

I’m still unsure what the right call is. Once we cross that line, there’s no going back.

I knock on her condo door. There’s no answer the first time, so I knock harder. That stirs movement behind the door.

The moment she opens the door, my decision is made.

She’s been crying. Dried tear stains run through her makeup. Her dress—which is my favorite color on her—is rumpled and her hair is unkempt.

I can’t do this to her. If we get together, this won’t be the last time she’d be upset because I missed our plans. But more than that, I don’t want any role in the world in which she thrives. Endless charity functions and country club dinners, never feeling like I measure up to some standard that’s continuously changing, and having my picture appear in the press because I’m attached to her?

It would never work in the long run, so why should we start something destined to end badly? We’re better to keep the status quo as friends. At least that way she’s still in my life in some capacity.

“I’m so sorry, Maz. We were overrun at the hospital after a pile-up on the freeway.”

She gives me a sad smile that makes my heart feel as if it’s in a blender. “It’s okay, you’re here now.”

She steps back from the door and I walk inside. It’s clear she’s still a little groggy. I glance at the couch and see a blanket she must have been using. When I look toward the open concept kitchen, I see two plates set up with candles on the table. There’s a take-out bag from one of my favorite restaurants on the large island.

I feel like a complete asshole.

The idea of doing this to her our entire lives gnaws at me. That’s when I’m on shift. Even when I’m not, I’ll disappoint her when I don’t want to attend this event or that. The whole scenario fills me with dread, and I can’t believe I never saw this before.

I know what I have to do.

“What time is it?” she asks, following me into the living area.

“Too late,” I say, taking a seat. “We need to talk.”

A crease forms between her eyebrows and I steel myself for what I need to say. It’s for her own happiness down the road.

When I take her hand, she lets me. “I really am sorry for being late and not texting or calling you. I didn’t have even a minute to spare.”

She smiles and squeezes my hand. “That’s okay. What you do is important. I understand.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to, Maz, that’s the thing. You should have a guy who can be completely devoted to you and that’s not going to be me for at least a few years until I’m through my residency. And even after, who knows depending on what path I decide to pursue. You deserve more that.”

“I know how much your career means to you. I’m willing to deal with all of that if it means I get to be with you.” She squeezes my hand again.

This time, I pull mine away. Touching her makes it harder to do what has to be done. “And what about when you have some function you have to go to, and I don’t want to go? What then?” She opens her mouth to say something, but I beat her to it. “You deserve to have someone on your arm who wants to be there. Not someone you have to make excuses for.”

“You don’t have to go to all of them with me. I don’t always go with a date now.”

I shake my head. “It’d be different if we were together and you know it. People would expect me to be there.” I take a deep breath. “This life that you’re so entrenched in is the same life I’m trying to escape from. So… I think it’s better if we don’t cross that line. I love you, Mazzy. I do. But that’s exactly why I can’t do this with you. I want you to be happy and I don’t think I’m the man who can bring you the happiness you deserve.”

Her face holds a mixture of shock and disbelief. “But… but this was supposed to be our moment,” she whispers. “I got all dressed.” She waves her hands down her body. “I ordered dinner.” She gives a fleeting look at the two plates. “I’m wearing lingerie.” Her hand goes for the dress’s zipper.

I stop her, and her gaze and her hands fall into her lap.

“Why would you make me think we had a chance if we didn’t?” She looks at me with tears in her eyes.

I push a hand through my hair. “Because I’m selfish. I don’t know. I thought maybe we could figure it out, but tonight has just been one giant demonstration of why I was wrong.”

She stands from the couch, leaning over me with her hands fisted at her sides, red splotches on her neck and chest. “Do you think it’s better somehow now that I know for certain you love me? Like that’s some kind of balm to the wound you just ripped wide open? Because it’s not! It’s worse! It’s way worse knowing that everything I wanted was within reach, but it will never be.”

I can’t sit here and see her in this much pain and do nothing, so I stand and place my hands on her upper arms. “I’m not trying to hurt you. It’s the opposite. I’m trying to protect you.”

She shrugs off my hands and steps back. “Is this some kind of game to you?”

Jesus, her words and her expression of betrayal make me want to sink into the floor. But I know this is what’s best. I’m sure of it. “One day you’ll see I was right.”

“Is it really going to be so easy for you to see me with someone else? Is it? Because it kills me every time I see you with another woman.”

My jaw clenches at the mention of her with someone else, but I’ve dealt with it for this long already. Surely, I can withstand more of the same torture. “Of course not! But seeing you truly happy will be worth it. I can’t be the one to give you the life you want.”

She shakes her head in apparent disgust. “That’s pretty clear now.”

“Can we just—”

“No. I want you to leave.” She points toward the door. “Go!”

I do as she asks. She’ll get over this. More importantly, we’ll get over it. In time she’ll realize I was right, that she will be happier with me as a friend who is there for her than as a lover who never is.

When the door slams behind me, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve made the worst decision I ever could and there’s no coming back from it.