“Forgiven,” I say.
“Good. We can be friends again.”
I laugh. “Friends.”
“Absolutely. Friends,” he says and holds his hand up in the Boy Scout salute. “Scout's honor.”
“You were never a Scout.”
“Actually, I was,” he replies. “Almost went the Eagle Scout path but decided not to.”
“Why is that?”
“People already made fun of me for being a dork as it was,” he says and laughs. “I didn't want to give them even more ammunition.”
I laugh, though it's probably not something I should be laughing at. Being picked on and bullied sucks. But, it's in the past and Brad's come out of it alright, all things considered. The waitress arrives and drops off our desserts – setting a box down beside my plate and giving me a smile. I thank her, and she leaves the table without another word. Brad digs in, but I scoop mine into the box and close it up. It'll probably be decent for breakfast.
With the evening winding down, I know I need to tell him. I take in a deep breath and silently let it out as I steel myself. Brad looks up at me and cocks his head.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod. “I'm fine,” I say. “There's just something I need to tell you.”
He puts his fork down and leans forward a bit. “Uh oh. This sounds serious.”
I fidget with my napkin again, struggling to get the words out. I need to suck it up. This is reality for me now and there's no running from or getting around it. I look up at Brad, pursing my lips.
“I'm pregnant, Brad,” I rush out.
He sits back in his seat, a stunned look on his face. He scratches at his beard and seems to be turning the information over in his mind – which is good. Maybe, this will force him to abandon any romantic notions in his head and, if he's being sincere, focus on being a friend to me.
“Wow,” he finally says. “Didn't see that coming.”
My bark of laughter is sharp. “Yeah, that makes two of us.”
He leans forward again and starts picking at his tiramisu, popping a small morsel into his mouth and chews thoughtfully. We both fall silent for a moment, each of us wrapped up in our own thoughts.
“Is the father – is he in the picture?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No,” I admit and fight off a wave of emotion. “At this point, I can't really count on him for anything.”
“That's horrible – to leave you alone to deal with this all on your own,” he frowns.
It's not really Duncan's fault. It's not his fault at all. The guy is overseas and doesn't know. But I don't want to give Brad that information. It's not his place to know it. I don't know why, but I feel like I need to guard this information and keep it to myself.
“It's a complicated situation,” I sigh.
“Doesn't seem all that complicated to me,” he says. “This – man – got you pregnant and then bails on you? That's not much of a man in my book. A man provides for his family – intended and expected family or not. A man doesn't run away from his responsibilities.”
“Like I said, it's complicated,” I repeat. “I'm telling you this because I'm just reinforcing what I told you before, Brad – I need a friend right now more than anything. That's all I need or want. And if you can be a friend to me, that's wonderful. If not, I understand completely and no hard feelings whatsoever. I just wanted to be truthful with you.”
He takes a drink of his cappuccino and nods. “Of course, and I appreciate your honesty, Lexi,” he says. “I’m just sorry you're stuck in such a bad situation.”
I shrug. “It's life,” I say. “And I need to focus on what I'm going to do moving forward.”
“I understand,” he says.
We share a look and it makes me want to believe he actually does understand – which comes as a relief to me. Brad surprises me when he reaches across the table and takes my hand, giving it a firm squeeze.
“I want you to know that I'm your friend, Lexi,” he says, his voice earnest. “I'm here for you, no matter what. Please, don't ever hesitate to ask me if you need something – anything. I want to help you any way I can. As your friend.”
I squeeze his hand in return and smile. His voice is sincere, and I actually believe he means it. Maybe telling him I'm pregnant upfront has shifted his thinking. Maybe I didn't give him enough credit for being able to make that turn. Either that or maybe he's not quite as into me as I thought he was.
Either way, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that Brad is okay with being friends – which takes a huge weight off my shoulders.
Thirteen
Duncan
Six Months Later...
I'm sitting in Harold Dawson's office staring at the paperwork on the desk in front of me. Dawson is the administrator for the outfit here in Syria and for the last couple of months, he's been putting on the hard sell to keep me here since my tour is up. The guy has offered me the moon to retain me. He's offered me my choice in assignments – provided I split that time between there and back here in Syria. They've also offered me a number of other perks and incentives in an effort to keep me.
But they can't offer me what I really want – time with Alexis.
Honestly, if not for the thought of spending time with her and exploring that connection we shared all those months ago, I probably wouldn't think twice about re-upping. Hell, I'd probably even stay right where I am – where I know I'm doing some good.
“What do you think, Dr. Clyburne?” Dawson asks.
It's tempting. It's really tempting. Over here, I can honestly say I feel like I'm making a difference and am genuinely saving lives. It also doesn't hurt that in my time here, I've felt more alive than I have in years. It's crazy, but most days I feel like I've got electricity running through my veins. Not every day is sunshine and roses, of course. There have been plenty of bad days and dark moments. Overall, though, I've gotten exactly what I've hoped to out of this experience.
Which is what makes the idea of sticking around all the more appealing. After all, it's been eight months now. For all I know, Alexis has already moved on. She may be happy and content with somebody in her life.
I couldn’t blame her if she did move on. It's not like I have any claim on her. And I wasn't exactly specific about when I'd be back. I definitely left the door open to the possibility that I might be staying in Syria – or someplace else abroad – for a long while. So, if she moved on, I can't possibly be upset about it.
But at the time, I had no idea she'd be so stuck in my head. I had no idea that my feelings would develop like they have or be as strong as they are. But they have developed, and they are very strong, which is not just baffling to me, but incredibly exciting too.
If I'm being honest, being with Alexis – even for just that one night – filled me with that electricity I've been searching for. No, it's not the same as being in the middle of a warzone – it's definitely different. But I can't deny that my feelings for Alexis lit me up inside in ways I never counted on, expected, or thought they would.
And can I really turn my back on exploring that with her?
I’m honestly torn. It's a big decision to make and one that, not to be too dramatic, could potentially alter the course of my life.
“It's tempting,” I say. “I love what we're doing here.”
“Then stick around,” Dawson says. “We can sure use somebody like you. You're an amazing surgeon, Duncan.”
“I appreciate that,” I say.
“You're doing a lot of good here, Duncan,” he continues. “And you can do a lot more. We desperately need good people here.”
I look at the papers again as an image of Alexis floats through my mind. That red hair, those sparkling green eyes, and that smile that lights up not just the room, but my soul as well – and that's what makes the decision for me.
“Harold, I really appreciate the opportunity,” I say. “I just have some things back home I need to attend to.”
A look of disappointment crosses his face, but he nods. “I understand,” he says. “But, are you sure there's nothing I can say or do to make you change your mind?”
“Not at the moment,” I reply. “But I'm not closing the door on possibly returning to the organization.”
He gives me a small smile, slightly mollified. “Well, I really hate to lose you,” he says. “But you're always going to have a spot here with us.”
“I appreciate that Harold,” I say. “And you never know, you might see me sooner, rather than later.”
Especially if things with Alexis don't go how I want them to go.
“You really didn't have to come down here to pick me up,” I say. “I could have taken a cab or something.”
“Nonsense,” my mother says. “I haven't seen you in months. Did you really expect me to not be here to welcome you home? Henry sends his regards, but said that he's tied up –”
I wave her off. “It's probably better that he's not here,” I interject. “I'm just glad you are.”
She embraces me tightly and I must admit, as much as I loved it over there, being home feels nice. Better than nice, honestly. I've missed my mom. I grab my bags from the carousel and follow her out to the loading zone. Jeffrey, her driver, takes my bags and gives me a nod.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Clyburne,” he says.
“Good to see you again too, Jeffrey,” I say. “I trust she hasn't been too much trouble while I've been away?”
“No more so than usual,” he replies and laughs.
I follow my mom into the car and Jeffrey shuts the door after us. He puts my bags into the trunk, then gets in behind the wheel. As he merges out into traffic, my mother takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.