Chapter 34 Now

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

I've been in this office for more than five years, but I've never heard the clock ticking before. Someone had to have made it louder. Did Sarah replace the batteries and the mechanics are suddenly firing on all cylinders? I stare at the second hand, watching its stuttering jumps from number to number and wondering if I'm going out of my mind. It's entirely possible I'm in the midst of a nervous breakdown and don't even know it. I think back to my first or second year of medical school, what the thick psychiatry textbook said were the classic symptoms of a break from reality.

Nervousness. If the constant bounce of my leg isn't confirmation enough, then the way I jumped when the hotel clerk said good morning to me today might seal the deal. Yes, I'm still staying at a hotel nearly a week later. One so far uptown I'm practically in the Bronx. The morning Uber ride in traffic takes me nearly forty-five minutes. But I won't take the train because Gabriel might see me.

Loss of appetite. An easy check mark, considering I can't remember the last time I put anything in my body other than copious amounts of coffee and wine.

Withdrawing from family and friends. I suppose I started this one the day after Connor died. I was too ashamed to face people then, even more so now. I mean, what would I tell people who ask what I've been up to? Oh, not much. Just following the husband of the woman my husband killed. Actually, I'm not sure if I'm the stalker or the stalkee, but whatever. We fuck now, too. My only real communication has been with my brother, Jake, and Sarah. But I haven't returned Jake's last three calls, and lately I've been holed up in my office, avoiding even my assistant.

Insomnia. Sleep? What's that?

Addiction. Self-medicating and alcohol abuse. Addicts smoke crack and drink four-dollar bottles of vodka in plastic bottles. The bottle and a half of wine I consume each night in a fancy glass makes me above that, right?

Paranoia and delusions. Someone really has been following me. No. Really. I swear they have.

Change in routine. Mood swings. Feelings of hopelessness and despair.

Check.

Check.

And a big fat check.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Jesus, that fucking clock needs to shut up.

"Sarah!"

She opens the door in a rush. I point to the wall. "Did you change the battery in the clock?"

Sarah glances over at it. Her brows pull tight. "No. Does it need to be changed?"

I shake my head. "No, never mind."

She steps into my office and closes the door behind her. "Is everything okay, Meredith?"

I force a smile. The way it fits awkwardly on my face, I'm certain I look like the Joker. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

Her eyes sweep over me. "Because you called me in the middle of the night the other day, and you've been really quiet lately. And… you wore that shirt yesterday."

I look down, and my eyes widen. That can't be. I went to a boutique on my way to the hotel from the office two days ago. I picked up a few blouses, underwear, and a pair of pants. Yesterday after work, I hung up my shirt and then this morning…

I took the shirt off the hanger and put it back on.

Oh. My. God.

"It's the same color," I lie. I'm not even sure why. "But a different blouse."

"Oh. Okay."

She doesn't believe me. I can tell.

Sarah's face softens. "I thought maybe you were struggling because of what this week is."

"What this week is?"

She smiles sadly. "Connor's birthday is still listed on the office calendar."

My heart skips a beat. I pick up my phone and check the date. Sure enough, tomorrow is his birthday. He would've been thirty-two. I feel sick. How could I forget my dead husband's birthday?

I swallow the lump of guilt in my throat and nod. "Yeah, it's a tough week."

"Is there anything I can do? Why don't we have dinner tomorrow night? Keep yourself occupied. I can get a sitter."

I force a smile. She means well. "Thank you. But I already have plans with my brother, Jake." A lie. What's one more?

"Oh, good. Well, at least you only have one more appointment today." She pauses before adding, "Since Mr. Wright is no longer on the calendar."

She's baiting me to talk about it. I know she's been curious about what happened with him. How could she not be? I've had her fire him as a patient twice. Yesterday when she told me she'd reached Gabriel and canceled, she tried to pry for more information. But I shut her down.

The door opens in the outer office, allowing me an easy escape from her curiosity this time. Sarah looks over her shoulder, toward the sound of the door closing. "That must be Mrs. Epstein. I'll talk to you later."

Lucky for me, Mrs. Epstein is one of my oldest and easiest patients. She has OCD, and we're working on some of her repetitive behaviors. I'm able to engage easily—for the first time in days. The hour goes by fast, but I'm so tired when she leaves. I think I might actually get some sleep tonight. In fact, I might doze off in the Uber back uptown. I take my purse out of my desk drawer, pull my phone from the charger, and slip on the cheap jacket I picked up to replace the expensive one I'll probably never see again.

I'm standing, ready to go, when there's a knock on the door again. Sarah opens it after two raps. She, too, has her jacket on. "Umm… Mr. Wright just walked in."

I'm sure all the blood drains from my face. "I thought you canceled his appointment?"

"I did. He says he just needs to speak to you for a minute. Do you want me to turn him away?"

I consider it. That would take care of the immediate problem. But dealing with Gabriel requires playing chess, thinking two steps ahead. If I have her turn him away, will he wait outside the building? Approach me when I walk out? What if he follows me to my hotel, figures out where I'm staying? No. No. I can't do that. I need to have some control of this game he's obviously playing. So I take a deep breath in and blow it out.

"No, it's fine. I'll see him. You can show him in."

Sarah nods. "Okay. But I'm staying until he's gone."

For once, I don't want privacy with Gabriel. I want to be able to yell for help, if need be. So I nod back. "Thank you."

Sarah disappears and returns a minute later. Gabriel's towering figure is right behind her. I hate that I notice how good he looks, how the scruff on his face highlights his strong jaw, and how his thick, dark eyelashes line his captivating eyes so perfectly. I muster a smile. "Thank you, Sarah."

Gabriel waits until she closes the door to move. Then he strides confidently to the couch and takes a seat. His arms splay wide across the top, like he's relaxed, comfortable even. I am anything but. I keep my distance, standing behind my chair, rather than sitting in it, like I normally would.

"Hello." I nod. "Sarah said you wanted to speak to me for a minute?"

There's a ghost of a grin on his lips. Unless you were specifically looking for it, most people wouldn't notice. But I do.

"Why did you cancel my appointment?"

If he's going to act like everything is fine, so am I. "You can't be my patient anymore, Gabriel. I think you know why."

He rubs his bottom lip with his thumb. "Okay. But if I'm not a patient anymore, there shouldn't be any issues with us seeing each other. Correct?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Gabriel's eyes drop down to my hands, where I'm holding the chair. I'm gripping it so hard my knuckles are white. His eyes eventually lift to meet mine.

"Let's go have a drink, talk outside the office. I can see it's causing you stress to discuss things here."

For my sanity, I need to know what he's after. What game he's been playing. So even though I know I'm messing with fire, I nod. "Blackstone's is down the block, and it's usually quiet. A restaurant with a small bar."

Gabriel stands. "Lead the way."

Sarah is still at her desk when we walk out of my office. I'd already forgotten about her. "Um, I'm going to walk Mr. Wright out."

A cheeky grin blooms on her face. "Have a good night."

My head is a jumbled mess as we stroll up the block. I'm not going to let on that I know he knows my true identity, so I'll have to stick to my story about violating doctor-patient rules. It's laughable, really. Sleeping with my patient is the least of my concerns at this point.

At the restaurant, Gabriel pulls out a stool for me, like he's a gentleman and this is some kind of a date. It's barely five o'clock, so the bar area is empty, except for us and the bartender. We order two glasses of wine, but I don't touch mine. I need to be of sound mind. Well, as sound as it can be these days.

"So…" Gabriel says. He flashes a shy smile, and for the life of me, I would swear it's genuine. "Was it that bad? That you ran out?"

I look down into my wineglass and shake my head. "The doctor-patient trust is sacred. It should never have happened."

"But now you're not my doctor."

I turn and look him in the eyes. "Did you follow me? The other night… after?"

"What?" Gabriel's eyes narrow. He rears back. He looks offended. "No. Clearly you needed some space. Why would you ask that?"

This man is either the world's best liar or he's telling the truth. But how can that be? Could he have picked up the keychain and not known who it belonged to? If he had found it on the street the day we crashed into each other, why would he have kept it? And everyone knows the colors of the New York hockey team…

My thoughts are interrupted by a voice. A familiar female one.

"Meredith?"

I turn to find Irina standing there. Next to her is her husband, Ivan.

My mouth gapes open. "Irina…"

She swamps me in a big hug. "I thought that was you."

Ivan nods with a sad smile. "Hey, Mer."

After the greetings, they both look to Gabriel. I have no choice but to introduce him—to the best friend of the man who killed his wife. My world just shrank so small I feel like I'm suffocating.

"This is Gabriel." I don't explain who he is or say his last name. The less said the better. "Gabriel, this is Irina and Ivan."

Ivan Lenkov is even more famous than Connor was. Anyone who's watched a New York hockey game would recognize him. But Gabriel doesn't flinch. He stands and offers a hand, and the men shake. "Nice to meet you."

"I've been meaning to call you," Irina says. "Have some lunch. But the third kid put me over the edge. I don't get out too often lately. I didn't even go to half the hockey games this season."

My eyes flash to Gabriel with the mention of hockey. Once again, he seems unfazed. I feel like my head might explode trying to figure this man out. Luckily, another couple walks in—the people Irina and Ivan are meeting for dinner—so I take advantage and say my goodbyes. Irina promises to call. She probably will, but I'll let it go to voicemail and never return her call. Whatever.

Then it's just me and Gabriel again. My heart races, my head is pounding, and… I realize I can't do this. I can't play this game anymore. Can't be the cat or the mouse. I just want to go home. I think about running, but I've been running for far too long. So I stand and look over at the man next to me.

"This is over, Gabriel."

His face scrunches up. "You're leaving?"

I nod, and then simply walk out the door. This time without looking back.