Dr. Grant (Off-Limits)
Dr. Grant: Chapter 52

I pause in front of the imposing building in front of me, feeling conflicted. Seven job offers. Shortly after Amara and Gregory announced their engagement, the job offers started to come in.

I guess Harold no longer views me as a threat. He got what he wanted. Amara is marrying a man he approves of, someone vastly different to me. My stomach recoils at the thought of the two of them together. My eyes fall closed as I try to push away thoughts I can’t bear. The two of them together, his hands on her body, Amara smiling at him the way she used to smile at me. I bet she’ll have her dad walk her down the aisle. She’d never be able to do that if she married me. I could never take that — knowing he gets to walk her down the aisle when I know how hard it’s hitting Aria that she’ll miss out on that.

Not that Amara and I were ever headed toward marriage. I guess I was just someone different, someone that intrigued her. I was never going to be the man she married. I don’t fit into her world. All the scheming, the secrets, the cliques. I want no part of it.

I don’t.

So why does it hurt so badly? I’m the one that asked her to leave, so why does it kill me to know she did just as I asked? I guess it’s because it just adds to the betrayal. I feel guilty enough as it is, but knowing that all we had didn’t mean anything to her? That she walked away without a fight, choosing to marry someone else within weeks of leaving me… yeah, that fucking burns.

I run a hand through my hair and take a deep breath in an attempt to ground myself — to no avail. I’m a fucking mess, but I’ll have to pretend like I’m not. Like my heart isn’t fucking broken, like guilt isn’t eating at me.

I’ve let my parents down enough as it is. I shake my head and tug at the lapels of my suit jacket before walking into the building, a polite smile on my face. I freeze when my eyes land on the receptionist’s desk.

“Georgia?”

She looks up, a sweet smile on her face. “Good morning, Dr. Grant. It is so good to see you again.”

I walk up to her desk, unable to suppress my shock. “How are you here?”

“She isn’t the only one that’s here.” I turn around to replace Maddie leaning against the wall, her fingers brushing some imaginary dust off her uniform. She looks up at me, a grin on her face.

“You’re both here,” I whisper, a surge of emotion washing over me. In the time I was at the Astor clinic, the three of us became a team, and leaving them behind was harder than I thought it’d be.

They both grin at me. “Of course we are,” Georgia says. “We couldn’t stay there after you were fired. It wasn’t fair. We said we’d quit unless they reconsidered their decision to fire you, but well…”

I shake my head. “You two should’ve known better. The last thing I wanted to do was drag you down with me.”

Maddie shrugs. “I mean, I did warn you to stay away from her.”

My mood instantly sours, and I look away. I should’ve listened to her. What the hell was I thinking going after Amara?

“Hey, it’s okay. Look around,” she says, gesturing around the office. “This place is even swankier than Astor College’s clinic. Come on, I’ll show you your new office. You’re going to love it.”

I nod and follow her the way I did on my very first day of work at the college clinic. It feels like a lifetime ago. Maddie points at the beautiful view from the tall windows in my office, and I try my hardest to act excited about it, but she sees straight through me.

“Hey, for what it’s worth… she seems to have really loved you. I don’t know what happened and I won’t ask, but rumor has it she agreed to marry Gregory in return for her grandfather letting you off the hook.”

I look up, surprised. “No,” I murmur. “She didn’t.” Part of me wants to cling to the explanation Maddie is handing me, but I can’t. I know Amara. She isn’t the type of woman to give up her freedom over something that small. Freedom is what she’s been fighting for all her life. I guess she was just done playing around with plebs like me.

“She gave up her company, too. She sold it outright — to Grayson Callahan.”

I look up, my eyes wide. “She did what?” Gray never told me that. Why would he keep that from me?

She nods. “I guess it hasn’t been announced yet, but that’s what I heard. I’m rarely wrong, you know? I’m the queen of classified information.”

Her words bring a reluctant smile to my face. “That’s one hell of a way to describe a gossip.”

She shrugs and walks away, looking over her shoulder as she reaches the door. “You’ll be okay, right?”

I nod. “I will be, Maddie. I always am.”

She nods and walks out, closing the door behind her softly. I’m absentminded as I sink into my seat. Maddie’s words keep resounding in my mind. She sold her company. She agreed to marry Gregory in return for her grandfather letting you off the hook. It can’t be.

I force the thoughts away and reach into my bag to take out the photograph of my parents that has gone with me to every single place I’ve ever worked at. I place it on my desk carefully, tracing a trembling finger over the edge of it.

If not for Amara’s father, they’d still be here. How could I ever be with her? How could I ever ask her to live with the guilt, the knowledge that I’ll never want her father in our lives?

I pull my hand away, feeling torn. I should be feeling disgust toward Amara, but all I can think about is how much I miss her. How much I regret saying what I said to her.

“Would you forgive me, Mom?” I whisper. “I need you. I need you to tell me what to do. Now, more than ever, I need you. Both of you. I’m terrified I’ll regret the choice I made. I’m unsure how she even feels about me, but the thought of her marrying someone else… Dad, it kills me. But I… I can’t love the daughter of the man that took you from us. She is the reason you died. She’s the reason Aria cried herself to sleep for years, the reason she still has night terrors. If not for her, Peter Simmons never would’ve been in our house. How could I love her knowing what role she played in your death? How could I ever face you?”

I grab the photo, holding it so tightly that the sharp edges cut into me, but I welcome the pain. “Please,” I beg. “Give me a sign. I beg of you, Mom, Dad… tell me I’m not making the worst mistake in my life by trying to do the right thing. Please. Please, give me a sign.”

My eyes fall closed as I try my hardest to cling to my sanity, feeling it slip away by the second. My father would be so disappointed in me. What the fuck am I even doing? Trying to communicate with spirits? What the fuck?

I put the photograph down and try my best to focus on work, but all day I replace myself waiting for a sign, against better judgment. There isn’t one.