Chapter Fourteen
It was time that he finally faced up to it. He had never gotten over her.
Sitting on the sofa in his living room, Dr. Everett Fortunado frowned as he looked into the glass of expensive whiskey he was sipping. The single glass, two fingers, was his way of winding down. Not from a hectic day spent at his successful, thriving medical practice, but from the stress of terminating yet another less-than-stellar, stillborn relationship.
How many failed relationships did that make now? Ten? Twelve? He wasn’t sure.
He’d honestly lost count a number of years ago.
Admittedly, the women in those incredibly short-lived relationships had all become interchangeable. Now that he thought about it, none of them had ever stood out in his mind. And, if he was being honest about it, Everett couldn’t remember half their names.
As for their faces, well, if pressed, he could give a general description, but there again, nothing about any of them had left a lasting impression on his mind. Strictly speaking, he could probably pass one or more of them on the street and not recognize them at all.
A mirthless laugh passed his lips. At thirty-three he was way too young to be on the threshold of dementia. No, that wasn’t the reason behind this so-called memory loss problem. If he were being entirely honest with himself, he thought, taking another long, bracing sip of whiskey, this cavalcade of women who had been parading through his life for the last thirteen years were only poor substitutes for the one woman who had ever really mattered to him.
The only woman he had ever been in love with.
The woman he had lost.
Lila Clark, the girl he’d known since forever and had barely been aware of until he suddenly saw her for the first time that day in Senior English class. Though a straight A student, Everett had found himself faltering when it came to English. Lila sat next to him in class and he’d turned to her for help. She was the one responsible for getting him through Senior English.
And somewhere along the line during all that tutoring, Lila had managed to make off with his heart. He was crazy about her and really excited when he found out that she felt the same way about him. Not long after that, they began making plans for their future together.
And then it had all blown up on him.
When he’d lost her, his parents had told him that it was all for the best. They had pointed out that he was too young to think about settling down. They wanted their brightest child to focus on his future and not squander his vast potential by marrying a girl from a working-class family just because he’d gotten her pregnant. To them it had been the oldest ploy in the world: a poor girl trapping a rich boy because of his sense of obligation.
But Lila really wasn’t like that. And she hadn’t trapped him. She’d walked out on him.
Everett sat on the sofa now, watching the light from the lone lamp in his living room play across the amber liquid in the chunky glass in his hand. He would’ve given anything if he could go back those thirteen years.
If he could have, he wouldn’t have talked Lila into giving up their baby for adoption.
Because that one thing had been the beginning of the end for them.
He’d been at Lila’s side in the delivery room and, even then, he kept telling her that they were doing the right thing. That they were too young to get married and raise this baby. That they could always have more kids “later.”
Lila changed that night. Changed from the happy, bright-eyed, full-of-life young woman he’d fallen in love with to someone he no longer even knew.
And that was the look in her eyes when she raised them to his. Like she was looking at someone she didn’t recognize.
Right after she left the hospital, Lila had told him she never wanted to see him again. He’d tried to reason with her, but she just wouldn’t listen.
Lila had disappeared out of his life right after that.
Crushed, he’d gone back to college, focusing every bit of energy entirely on his studies. He’d always wanted to be a doctor, ever since he was a little boy, and that became his lifeline after Lila left. He clung to it to the exclusion of everything else.
And it had paid off, he thought now, raising his almost-empty glass in a silent toast to his thriving career. He was a doctor. A highly successful, respected doctor. His career was booming.
Conversely, his personal life was in the dumpster.
Everett sighed. If he had just said, “Let’s keep the baby,” everything would have been different. And his life wouldn’t have felt so empty every time he walked into his house.
He wouldn’t have felt so empty.
Blowing out a breath, Everett rose from the sofa and walked over to the liquor cabinet. Normally, he restricted himself to just one drink, but tonight was different. It was the anniversary of the day Lila had ended their relationship. He could be forgiven a second drink.
At least, he told himself, he could fill his empty glass, if not his life.
“Your problem, brother dear,” Schuyler said after having listened to him tell her that maybe he’d made a mistake talking Lila into giving up their baby all those years ago, “is that you think too much. You’re always overthinking things and making yourself crazy in the process.”
“Says the woman who always led with her heart,” Everett commented.
“And that seems to be working out for me, doesn’t it?” Schuyler asked.
He could hear the broad smile in her voice. It all but throbbed through the phone. Everett had no response for that. All he could do at the moment was sigh. Sigh and feel just a little bit jealous because his little sister had found something that he was beginning to think he never would find again: love.
“By thinking so much back then about how everything would affect your future,” Schuyler went on, “I think you blew it with Lila. You were so focused on your future, on becoming a doctor, that you just couldn’t see how badly she felt about giving up her baby—your baby,” she emphasized. “And because you didn’t notice, didn’t seem to feel just as badly as she did about the adoption, you broke Lila’s heart. If it were me, I would have never forgiven someone for breaking my heart that way,” Schuyler told him.
“Thanks for being so supportive,” Everett said sarcastically.
This was not why he’d called his sister, why he’d lowered his guard and allowed himself to be so vulnerable. Maybe he should have known better, he thought, about to terminate the call.
“I am being supportive,” Schuyler insisted. “I’m just calling it the way I see it. I love you, Ev, and you know I’m always on your side. But I know you. I don’t want you to get your hopes up that if you just