Chapter Six

"Good morning," Dr. Pierce said half-heartedly as I approached him. He apparently had had a little too much to drink last night as well, and we both winced at the sun streaming through the blinds of the room of our first patient.

"Dallas," he said, catching me off guard. I quickly read off her chart.

"Jeanie Santos, thirty-three, appendectomy scheduled this afternoon." The words were like cotton balls in my mouth. I tried to wade my way through rounds, and when they were over, I hid in my office for the majority of the day, glaring at anyone who interrupted my inner dialogue of self-loathing. I jumped from half-sleep to awake when my phone vibrated on my desk.

ROSE: Dallas! Are you there?

DALLAS: No.

ROSE: Come on, sis, I have great news.

DALLAS: I don't care.

ROSE: God, what now?

DALLAS: Stop screaming.

ROSE: I told you never to drink again. I can only imagine the pain of your victims today. I will pray for them. Did you sing to anyone? That's the worst. Oh, God, please don't tell me you played DJ.

DALLAS: Is there a reason why you are still texting me?

ROSE: I'm getting married.

I texted back quickly, sure she was joking.

DALLAS: Great, to whom?

I got a text of her now occupied ring finger, then called her immediately.

"What the hell do you mean you're getting married!" I yelled into the phone as I grabbed my forehead and squeezed it.

"Grant asked. I said yes. Oh, my God, Dallas, I have so much to tell you," she said happily, and I heard her shushing someone in the background.

"Is that him? Is he there? You can't just get engaged to a man you barely know, Rose. That's crazy. You're smarter than this!" I pleaded. I could practically see her rolling her eyes at me. Rose wasn't a rash person, not in the slightest. I was sure that at any second, she would tell me she was joking.

"Dallas, you will meet him very soon. Please, please, listen to me. I'm happy. So, so happy. Let me be happy." I nodded as I closed my eyes tightly.

"Dallas?"

"I was nodding. Of course I'm happy for you. I know you aren't an idiot. I just…can't believe it." I sat in my chair, staring at the ceiling. My little sister was getting married.

"This won't affect the practice, okay? We're going to stay here. Grant has some land, and we're going to build a house. It's so beautiful. I have so much to tell you."

"I'm not worried about the practice, and yes, I want you to be happy," I said, tears sliding down my cheeks. I was crying…again. "Be happy. I'm off in two days. Make time for me."

"I promise…bye." And she was gone. I buried my head in my arms and silently cried at my desk, for my sister, for my head, for the absolute disaster I made of my relationship, and for the mourning of the semi-normal and professional doctor who had suddenly abandoned post the minute Dean Martin waltzed into her hospital. I ended up dozing off and woke to a familiar male voice.

"Dallas." I looked up to see Dean standing in my doorway. He looked alert and freshly showered. His clothes were neatly pressed, and there wasn't a hair out of place. I noted how his purple tie made his eyes pop.

I swallowed the sand in my throat. "I'm sorry. For whatever I said, for whatever I did, I'm sorry, okay? I just can't battle it out with you right now," I pleaded as I dropped my head back into the safety of my arms.

"Dallas, I need your help," he said quietly. "I'm still pissed at you, and trust me, I would ask anyone else to help me, but this situation is personal. Can you help me?"

I looked up to see the worry on his face and pushed my own selfish crap aside immediately. I couldn't remember a time this man had ever asked me for anything. I nodded quickly.

"What is it?"

"I need you to come somewhere with me tomorrow. I'll explain everything on the way. Will you come? Can you get your shift covered?" he asked while sending a text.

"Yes, sure," I answered, wanting to comfort him somehow. He nodded as he read a text, then looked up at me. "Try to lay off the vodka tonight. I need you alert tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah. And, Dean, I know I said—"

"You said what you meant," he said, finally giving me his full attention. His stare was distant, and it instantly hurt me. I was familiar with distant.

"I was drunk and angry," I defended. "And you just barreled—"

"Look, we can talk tomorrow, okay? I'll pick you up early at your place." He picked up my phone and programmed his number in. "Text me your address."

"Okay," I said, taking my phone back quickly. He nodded, then walked out without another word.

What in the hell?

Dean

Then

Seven months later, I stood waiting nervously on the porch of the frat house. I was more nervous than I'd ever been waiting on Dallas as I stood underneath the banner my frat brothers had tactlessly made, stating, "Dallas's Ass is Twenty." I rolled my eyes as people passed me to enter the house for her party. She would show up at any minute. I wiped the sweat from my brow. Summer making an early appearance in the middle of spring wasn't helping my case. This kind of nervousness didn't need the assistance of Texas heat. Just as I pulled my phone out to text her, she appeared, looking beautiful, as she took in her banner with a loud laugh.

"Awww, they even spelled it correctly," she said as she joined me on the porch.

"At least you know it wasn't me. Happy birthday, baby," I murmured, pulling her to me in a long slow kiss.

"Wow," she said, breaking away. "Way to go, Martin. I'm a sure thing after that kiss." She looked beautiful in a pink, sleeveless dress, her hair down, the way I loved it. She looked on at me as I fell speechless, then pulled her to the side of the house, trying desperately to make the words I'd carefully rehearsed come out. I ended up pacing for several seconds as she eyed me. She said nothing as she stayed quietly confused.

"So, this has been great. You and me finally together," I said, deciding to go with whatever came out.

"It took you long enough." She wrinkled her nose. "If I hadn't thrown myself on your literal throne, who knows how long it would've taken you."

"I've made up for it," I said, stopping suddenly and grabbing her, nuzzling her neck. She whimpered as she pulled away from me.

"Don't tempt me, Dean. It took me an hour to get ready." She wrapped her arms around my neck.

"You look so beautiful. I've always thought you were so perfect," I said absently, still trying to come up with the right words.

Her smile was dazzling. "What are you up to, Dean?"

I pulled her hand from around my neck and placed the box in it.

"I want more, Dallas. I want you to agree to more."

"What do you mean?" She gaped as she looked down at the box. It was a little deceptive.

"Open the box," I choked out, my heart expanding to fill the entirety of my chest.

"No. You're leaving again," she said, her lip quivering.

I shook my head. "We can worry about that later. Open the box," I said, smiling as I leaned in, taking her lips gently to keep them from shaking.

When she opened it, I didn't see relief or disappointment, though I could feel something else rolling off her. "It's beautiful, thank you."

"It's the year I make you my wife, Dallas," I whispered in her ear as she held up her hair so I could clasp the necklace behind her .

She expelled every bit of breath in her lungs as she turned to face me. "Come again?"

"It's the year we get married," I insisted, weighing her reaction to the year of the necklace. Her graduation year.

She nodded, grasping the delicate chain, and then her face twisted as her tears came out in a rush.

"You're leaving," she heaved out. "I mean, I knew it was coming. I thought I was ready." She crumbled before me as I rushed to get to her. I actually heard my heart go silent before resuming its pace.

"Look at me," I said, raising her tearful gaze my way. "It's a promise from me to you that I'll come back for you, Dallas."

"I don't know if I can do this again," she said, suddenly looking exhausted. It was as if she'd been fighting the looming dread of my departure for too long. There would never be a good time to talk about it. The longer we stayed together, the harder it became.

"Dallas," I tried again. "I told you when we started this that you meant more to me than just sex. I love you. I want to marry you."

"I love you, too. I was scared…of this—" she motioned with her hand "—feeling this way." Now she was the one pacing nervously. "So, you want me to wait for you? For three years after you leave?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I want, Dallas, and I'll wait for you," I murmured as she tracked the hardwood of the porch.

"And then what? I come to New York when I graduate?"

"I don't know. We can work it out," I said, knowing it wouldn't be that simple. I'd still have a year left.

"It's too much pressure on us. Let's just enjoy the night, okay? We'll talk about it later," she dismissed as she tried to escape for the party. I gripped her arm, turning her around.

"Too much for who?" I snapped.

"For you, Dean. It's your track record I'm worried about. And it's kind of a ridiculous notion. "

Jagged pieces of my heart flew out of my grasp as she threw my proposal away.

"What in the hell are you talking about?" I was furious now, the hurt seeping through my veins, overpowering my intentions. I knew I was out of line. I was panicking.

"It's three years, not three months," she reasoned as if she were talking herself out of it.

"We will see each other. I'll fly down as much as I can," I said, knowing that would be next to impossible. I was making promises I couldn't keep. The pain tore through me as I watched her face contort with the same. We'd avoided this for a reason.

"You fly down as often as you can from medical school?" she asked, calling my bluff. "It's only going to get harder for me here."

"You don't think I'm good enough for you," I snapped, dropping the hand of hers I was holding to keep her still. "You never have."

"What? That's ridiculous. I'm the one who had to compete with half the school, Dean!" she reminded me, throwing it in my face the way she did every time we fought.

"And you can't fucking let it go!" I roared, truly angry and hurt. I'd never seen her so upset. It was clear to me that we were both exaggerating an argument because we were terrified of losing each other. Our fights were typically fun. This was just plain painful.

I pulled her tightly to me, and she resisted at first and then let her tears fall. She looked up at me, helpless. "I brought you here to propose, and I fucked it all up. Forgive me." I kissed her, drawing it out as long as possible to avoid what came next.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Dean. I love you. Those words are all I've ever wanted to hear. I just can't deal with how I feel about you and you being gone." She cried quietly as I watched her. "So, what do we do?" No amount of closeness at this point could dull the impending heartbreak for either of us. "It's been the best year of my life. "

"Mine, too, but we could try. Dallas, say you will try with me," I pleaded.

"I'll try," she whispered, looking up at me, shattered. "What else can I do? But you have to go. It's all you've ever wanted. I can't be the reason for taking it away. I won't." She pulled away from me, slapping the moisture from her face in an attempt to be strong.

"I could stay. I'll stay. I'll be the reason, Dally. I'll pick another fucking school. I'll give it up." She looked up at me with the most solemn face I'd ever seen on her. "I can't live with that," she said quietly.

I saw the possible scenarios running through her mind. She was failing miserably at hiding her unhappiness, her strength faltering as she looked up at me. "You say you'll come back for me, Dean, then be here the day I graduate. Come back to me then, and I'll marry you."

For the first time since the conversation started, I felt a glimmer of hope. "Promise?"

"You have to keep yours first," she said, her eyes tearful, her words sincere. "Go, Dean. Go be a doctor. I'm right behind you."

I captured her mouth with mine, then pulled away, tracing the outline of the necklace with my fingers while I looked down at her. "I'll come back for you, Dally."