My Replacement Husband

My Replacement Husband (12) Luck of the Draw

I USED TO HATE HOSPITALS.

It was more than ironic for me to have dated a doctor for two years.

Hospitals smelled like antiseptic and reeked of misery. No one I loved came out alive once we entered a hospital. It was the death march. Both my grandparents, my dad, my great Uncle Larry, and my cousin Blythe had passed away. Everyone except Ethan.

"Do you want to swing by the hospital and grab lunch with me tomorrow?" Ethan had asked me after three-and-a-half-dates (our second one had been cut short by an emergency call). Bellevue Hospital was a couple stops down from my workplace riding on the 6 train. "There's this killer Italian place. Best meatballs in the city."

Ethan had walked me home after Thai food and a stroll down central park. I hadn't been dating in what seemed like forever. Ever since the Evan fiasco, I had sunk myself into work and binge watching sappy rom-coms every weekend. Ethan didn't give me butterflies at first, and he seemed to straight-laced for my tastes but he had managed to worm a spot into my heart. I didn't want to mess it up by being terrified of visiting him at work.

"Two dates in a row?" I had asked him facetiously. "This is getting serious."

He looked dismayed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel rushed or anything..."

I always did this. I made jokes when I was trying to avoid being uncomfortable or saying how I felt. I skirted issues with silly comments.

"No," I quickly said. "It's not that. I like you a lot, but..."

His frown deepened.

I felt even worse. "No buts. I mean. Ugh, I'm bad at this, Ethan."

"Bad at what?" he asked, confused.

"Dating!" I finally exclaimed out of frustration with myself. "I've been single for maybe three years now. I haven't dated since college, and that was a complete disaster. This is weird for me."

There had been a big part of me that expected Ethan to run for the hills. He was this well-adjusted, put-together doctor. I had just started my career as a literary agent, my self-esteem was a joke, and my family was still betting against me. What did I have to be proud of?

"You know what," I sighed. "Forget it. I must seem so, so messy."

"Messy?" he scoffed gently. "Well, your apartment does look like it's been ransacked, and you put your blouse on inside-out."

I remembered being incredibly embarrassed. "I thought the wash faded the colors..."

He laughed. It was a genuine, warm laugh. "I don't expect you to be perfect, Julie. I'm not the calm and collected doctor everyone thinks I am. I'm a perfectionist. I forget to vote. I hate pickles on my burgers. I..."

I stopped him. "Listen, Ethan. Those are cute problems."

"Want to let me finish?" he asked playfully.

"If you say something like 'I only work our four days a week instead of five' then I don't know what to say to you," I had told him right off the bat.

"I'm insecure," he said quietly. "I always feel like a phony. You saying you like me is the only thing that makes me think you like me. My parents—birth parents—abandoned me when I was a baby. I've worked so hard to make it as a doctor because I love what I do, but there's part of me that thinks if I'm a great son—someone to be proud of—then they'll finally want me."

I felt ashamed for assuming Ethan's life was all raindrops and kittens. When I looked at Ethan, I saw someone who was nothing like me. I thought he couldn't understand the weight of trying to be someone worthy.