Mr. Berkshire (Book 1 in the For Better Or Worst Trilogy)

Chapter 19

     Crowded places and loud noises fall onto my list of fears under spiders and storms.  Nightmares consume me the second my eyelids fall shut. I'm lucky to get three hours of sleep a night. Work is out of the question. It's not until recently that I've realized that I've lived my entire life sheltered from the horrors of the world. Everything that I thought I knew about the world is a lie. Day by day, through the shattered pieces of my broken reality, I trudge through my daily activities. The only thing that keeps me sane for the next two weeks is the idea of seeing Roman. Ever since his birthday party, all I can think about is the moment I would see him and thank him for taking that bullet for me. Nothing in the world will ever express my complete gratitude, but that doesn't stop me from sending a basket of goodies to the hospital every three days. 

     It takes nearly two weeks until i'm allowed to visit. During these two weeks, I practiced what I wanted to say in front of a mirror. Besides trying to find the right words to thank him, I was also trying to decide if I should mention the kiss we shared. Would it be insensitive? Too soon? Could it be that i'm imagining the importance of said kiss? Was it a lapse in his judgement? Does he regret it? Does he even remember it? These were the thoughts that haunted me at night. And it only reminded me of how selfish I am. He's in the hospital with a bullet wound and here I am worrying about a flimsy kiss. 

     Saturday finally rolls around, after plenty of mental torture, and I can say that i'm more than ready to see Roman face to face. Walking into the hospital with a basket in hand, stuffed with warm homemade chocolate chip cookies and knitted gloves, I have in mind what I will say, word for word. Once I have his room and floor number, I make my way through the hospital, silently practicing what I would say to him.  

     However, the second I walk into the room, the words escape me. The scene before me, Roman in his hospital bed, talking to a crying Isabella in a comforting tone, makes me speechless. Not wanting to interrupt the private moment between the two, I take a step back to retreat, but my ballet flats give me away with one annoying squeak across the tiled floor. Immediately, both heads dart in my direction. Isabella instantly swipes at her tears, rising to her feet. 

     "What are you doing here? Does this hospital not have security?" She attempts to hide the sadness in her voice with seething anger, but I catch the wavering hitches in her voice. "You're not welcomed here. Not after what you almost cost my family. Because of your reckless stupidity, my brother was nearly killed!"

     "Izzy, enough!" Roman silences her. It's not like I expected everyone to be cheery to see me, but I also wasn't expecting this. Though, can I blame her? In times like these, people always looked for someone to blame to make things easier. As a stranger, i'm the easiest target. But is she right? Is it my fault that Roman lays in this hospital? 

     Lifting my shaking hand, I wave the basket from side to side. "I thought I would bring this in person, but if you'd rather me leave-" The hurt in my voice is even evident to my own ears. The last thing I want is to make this about me, but it's tough not to feel embarrassed or out of place. 

     "Don't." He interrupts me. Sitting up straighter, he continues. "Isabella was just leaving." Even though he's directing the words at me, his gaze rests on his sister. Unspoken words flow between them, something I know all too familiarly with my own siblings, before the tall woman marches out of the room without another word or glance my way. "Don't worry about, Izzy." Roman says, directing my attention back to him. "She can be intense."

     "You don't say." I try to lighten the mood, but the wavering in my voice is undeniable. "If you'd rather be alone, I can go."

     "No, it's fine. Anyways, i'm sure you didn't come all this way with that basket only to leave before giving it to me." He waves me over, gesturing to the chair beside his bed, where Isabella sat only seconds ago. "We also have a few things to discuss, if i'm not mistaken." Did my heart just skip a beat? As casually as I can muster, I stride across the room and lower myself into the chair. Carefully, I set the basket of goodies into his lap. 

     "What kind of things?" I ask, as if I don't know the answer. Obviously, he's been thinking about the kiss just as much as I have which makes me feel a little bit better about my obsessing over it every waking moment. 

     "First and foremost, you should know that the events that took place on the night of my party were not your fault. None of us were expecting such tragic events to take place. Clearly security had not been doing their jobs correctly." The words are falling from his lips, but they don't sound him. He doesn't sound like himself. He's talking to me through a wall that wasn't there before. "My father's line of work often brings negative attention to our family. We assume this is what happened that night. Thankfully, nobody lost their lives. Even more importantly, I didn't lose an employee." 

     My brows furrow in confusion. Employee? What other employees were invited to his birthday party? Wasn't it a private event? After a moment of searching his eyes, waiting for further explanation, I'm hit with the realization that he's talking about me. I'm the employee. At this very moment, I realize where the direction is headed. His voice is too formal. I'm thrown under a professional title as if everything that transpired between us was a figment of my imagination. I sit up a little straighter, forcing a smile. 

     "We're all so lucky. I can't thank you enough for saving my life." I keep it short and sweet, waiting for the rest of his words. This isn't how I thought this meeting would go, but there's no way to turn the direction without making a fool of myself. 

     "Anyone would have done it." There it is, the confirmation that everything has been in my head. My chest tightens as I watch him with what I hope is noted as a look of gratitude, instead of one of sadness. He protected me because it was his duty as a human being. Nothing more. Nothing less. The idea shouldn't sadden me, but it does. How could I have been so stupid? "Secondly," He continues, clearing his throat. For a second, it looks almost hard for him to continue and i'm not sure if it's because he's in pain or because I look too pathetic to hurt any further. "We should face the elephant in the room. The night of my party, we kissed." He looks expectant, like he expects me to elaborate on it, but I don't give him the pleasure to escape his explanation. "And it was completely unprofessional on my part. After all, you are below me and I don't want you to feel pressured to do something you might not want to do." 

     "I didn't feel pressured at all." I finally cut in. Did we both read the situation wrong? The events leading up to that moment all made sense, but the final conclusion didn't. In his eyes, I can see that he's looking for a way out. He's looking for a reason that it shouldn't happen again. Clearly, it was a mistake for him. So, I do the only thing I can, I give him an out. "Honestly, there were drinks flying left and right. Mistakes happen. It happens to the best of us." I laugh nervously, hoping that I appear more nonchalant than I feel. A relieved smile falls across his lips, a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, before he nods.

     "Right. My mom wanted everyone to have a good time. A little bit too much of a good time if you ask me." We both chuckle nervously. An awkward silence soon follows. I bite my lip as my eyes wander the room, searching for something, anything to talk about. However, before I get the chance, Roman speaks up once more. 

     "I appreciate you coming by, but I think from now on we should keep everything on a professional level. I don't want any confusion between us and most importantly, no rumors running wild in the office. Meetings should be restricted only to work. Otherwise, we live our own lives. You understand, right?" There's a hint of something in his tone, but I can't get over my own hurt feelings to pay it any attention or even question it.

      I nod tightly, holding onto that tight smile as long as I can. "Completely understand." Another long silence follows. Finally, I rise to my feet. "Enjoy the cookies." And without another word, I walk out of the hospital room, leaving the shattered pieces of my heart behind. 

Why do you think Roman is behaving differently?

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