“You have no –”
“No, it's on you,” I repeat, my tone low and menacing. “Out of respect for you and for her, I've kept my distance. I have done nothing to interfere in your life or your relationship. So, if there are problems, you need to get your own house in order instead of coming down here and whining at me like it's my fault.”
His expression darkens, and he looks like I slapped him across the face. Yeah, the truth is a real bitch, isn't it?
“I'm warning you, Duncan,” he says, trying – and failing – to sound intimidating. “Stay away from her. She's mine. Not yours.”
“She's yours,” I mock. “What is she to you, property?”
He looks taken aback for a moment but quickly gathers himself. “You know what I mean,” he stammers. “Just stay the hell away from her.”
I chuckle and shake my head. He's clearly not hearing me. I hadn’t even planned on seeing Alexis. But now, I may look her up, if for no other reason than to piss him off.
“Or what, Brad?”
His expression is one of confusion, as if I suddenly started speaking Greek to him or something. “What do you mean?”
God, this guy is dumb. “You warned me. Which, to me, implies some sort of a threat,” I say. “So, if I don't stay away from her, what are you going to do about it?”
Brad and I are around the same height, but I've got about fifty pounds of muscle on the guy. Yeah, I may have grown up in comfort and privilege, but I know how to take care of myself. If it came down to it, I know I'd be pretty good in a fight.
Not that I think Brad is going to take a swing at me. He's dumb, but he's not quite that dumb. He has to know he'd come out on the losing end of that one.
“Ju – just stay away from her, Duncan,” he stutters, trying to regain his composure. “Stay the hell away from all of us.”
With that, he turns and briskly walks away from me, heading for the elevators. I stand there for a moment and shake my head. I wonder what Alexis would say or do if she knew he'd come to pay me a visit and deliver a warning to me. There's a part of me that wants to give her a call and tell her what happened, just to be spiteful. I'm not one who responds well to threats, and I sure as hell won't be intimidated by somebody like Brad.
Letting out a long, irritated breath, I turn and head back to my office. I need a few minutes of quiet alone time just to clear my head. I have to check in on some patients, but I don't want to do it as wound up as I am right now. I need to calm down and gather myself before I see or talk to anybody.
Closing my office door behind me, I drop into my seat heavily. I pick up the mug of coffee sitting on the blotter – it's cold by now – but I take a long swallow anyway.
I understand why Brad is so upset. I get it. And on some levels, I can't blame the guy. I mean, it has to suck to have the woman you love all hung up on somebody else. But on the other hand, blaming me and getting in my face about it isn't the way to go about fixing it.
It's his problem, not mine.
At the same time, I know that I'm as hung up on her as she apparently is on me – and that's not doing either one of us any favors. I need to get my mind off of her and channel all of my energy somewhere else. If I can't be with her, if I can't have her, I might just - well, I’m not sure what I’m going to do.
With a sigh, I pull out my cellphone and punch in a number. I almost hang up before the call connects but force myself to put the phone to my ear as the call is going through. He picks up on the second ring.
“Henry,” I say. “It's Duncan.”
We're sitting at a restaurant called Byard's later that night. It's an upscale place in the Upper East Side that has decent food and an okay atmosphere. Though it's not my favorite place in the city, I made the reservations on Henry's suggestion. He felt I needed to make the right impression. Always concerned about image, that guy.
Sitting across from me is a tall, leggy blonde named Vanessa. I can see why Henry is into her. I mean, it's true, she is a knockout – though, honestly, she doesn't exactly fit with my tastes. She's far more my brother's speed, for sure. She's about five-foot-ten, has long honey-blonde hair that falls to the middle of her back, rich brown eyes, full breasts, and a figure that won't quit.
Like I said, she's a knockout. More than that, though, she's also quite obviously very smart. At least Henry got that part of my tastes right.
I've resisted going out with anybody he's wanted to set me up with for so long just out of sheer principle – and maybe, a healthy dose of spite. But, after the scene at the hospital with Brad earlier, I realize now that I need to get my head on straight. I need to stop thinking about Alexis. She and Brad are a thing – a thing with a child, no less – so, if I'm going to stay, I need to put her out of my mind. It's about the only way I'm going to keep myself sane.
Of course, I'd be lying I said the idea of going back to Physicians Worldwide hasn't gone through my head a time or twelve. Maybe leaving and doing another stint in Syria or some other war-torn place will help me get my head back to where it needs to be – and off of Alexis entirely. Maybe, that sort of forced detox is exactly what I need. Maybe. At the moment, I really have no fucking idea what I need.
“So, Henry tells me you're a doctor,” Vanessa says. “A surgeon?”
I nod. “That's right.”
“And you just got back from Syria?”
I nod. “A little while ago now, but yeah.”
“Interesting,” she says. “What was it like over there? I mean, I only see what's on the news, but I understand there's a war going on over there.”
“It had its moments,” I say and laugh. “It got pretty intense from time to time.”
“I bet,” she says. “I don't know how you did it. I mean, putting your life on the line for those people.”
I cock my head at her. “What people?”
She shrugs. “People living in a country where they seem to enjoy blowing each other up.”
“You do realize the vast majority of people there aren't engaged in any sort of conflict,” I frown. “They're just caught up in the mess through no fault of their own.”
She purses her lips. “I didn't mean it like that,” she replies, as if her meaning should have been obvious.
“Then what did you mean?” I ask, my tone perhaps a little hostile.
“Just that there's a lot of violent people over there,” she shrugs.
Yeah, like that explains anything.
“By that logic,” I say, “I should refuse to treat anybody who comes into my ER who got caught in a crossfire between two gangs right here in New York.”
“That's absurd,” she says. “And an oversimplification of what I meant.”
I chuckle and take a sip of my wine and a tense silence descends over the table. Vanessa focuses on her plate, cutting up some of her food and eating it quietly as I push the food around on my plate with my fork. Finally, she raises her head and gives me a small smile.
“I'm sorry if I offended you,” she tells me. “Let's talk about something else. Something less – politically charged, perhaps?”
I nod. “I'm always for lighter topics.”
After that, the conversation runs smoothly enough, I suppose. We swap our prep school horror stories, favorite books, shows, music – we talk about some of our mutual interests. We both enjoy the theater and museums. Art galleries. Though, I can tell that some of our interests diverge greatly. She's very intelligent – though, tone deaf on certain topics – and has a dry wit I enjoy. But, that spark, that connection just isn't there for me.
We make it through to the end of the meal without any further incidents or insensitive remarks from her. I pay the check and we leave the restaurant. She only lives a couple of blocks from the restaurant, so I walk her home. The evening air is brisk and feels nice on my skin as we stroll. The neighborhood we enter is nice. Everything is well kept, clean, and smells like money – not that I'd expect anything less from Vanessa. She enjoys her family's wealth. Not that I begrudge her that. I happen to enjoy my family's wealth, but over dinner, I got the impression that's how she defines herself – by what and how much she has. By her money.
“This is me,” she chirps, pointing to a brownstone.
I nod. “Nice place.”
She shrugs. “It'll do for now, I suppose.”
Vanessa steps a little closer to me and takes hold of the lapels of my jacket. She leans close and my nose is filled with the subtle scent of her perfume, her skin, and the wine on her breath. Her gaze is locked onto mine and there's a flirty smile on her lips.
“Would you like to see the inside?” she purrs, her meaning clear.
Though there's part of me that's tempted – I'm a warm-blooded man who's got needs, after all – I know that this isn't going to work out between us. She's a gorgeous woman, but there are parts of her personality that are completely repugnant to me. There are things about her that turn me off completely.
So yeah, while sleeping with her might be fun – and honestly speaking, I really need to get laid – I just don't think I want to have sex with Vanessa. She and I don't click on any meaningful level and it would never go anywhere between us. For me, it would just be fucking, but I know she's looking for a lot more than that. And I'm not willing to give that to her.
“Sorry, but I think I should probably head home, actually,” I say.
The flirty smile on her lips grows. “Oh, a gentleman, huh?”
I shrug. “Not really.”
“Well, I guess you're playing hard to get then, huh?”
I laugh softly. “Not exactly.”
It's not playing hard to get. It's simply not being all that interested, and not wanting to take advantage of a situation just because I want to get off. Not to mention the fact that even though I went out with Vanessa to help me get my mind off her, Alexis' face continued to float through my mind endlessly. It was like having my own personal highlight reel of something I desperately want but am never going to have.