Not Quite Enough (Not Quite series) (37 page)

The day of the protest started early. Monica and Katie put the finishing touches on the posters and arranged for a last-minute permit to
be approved so the protest wouldn’t get them all arrested. Strategically, the protest was scheduled one hour before the end of the business day. If the lawyers of the hospital, and the administration itself, decided to drop the case, they could minimize the damage of the protest by calling a stop to all the attorneys. Goldstein had told her not to expect a call from him until after five. Even if the hospital decided to drop the case as the first picket sign went up, he’d conveniently get the call to Monica after five. “Make ’em bleed,” he’d told her.

She was quite happy to have Goldstein on her side.

Monica staged with off-duty employees, nurses, doctors, union reps, and more members of the fire and even police department, in a park across from the hospital. As four o’clock rolled around, they took the short walk down the street like a flash mob.

Katie held Monica’s hand as they approached the sidewalk in front of the hospital. Media vans were already there and Monica noticed the cameras swing their way as they approached. They no sooner touched the public sidewalk than the union reps began marching with Monica’s friends and colleagues and shouting through their bullhorns about wanting justice. About unfair practices. It grew loud in a heartbeat.

Katie pulled Monica over to a reporter and facilitated the interviews. Even if the hospital made the call, the damage would have been done. None of which bothered Monica in the least. They wanted to make an example out of her, and instead she’d make an example out of them.
Pick on someone your own size
was the theme of the day. The posters were heartbreaking and the media was all over the story.

Monica told the reporters what she could, all practiced words Goldstein had told her to say. All true, but nothing that would keep her from countersuing the hospital.

The crowd grew with faces Monica didn’t even recognize. Between interviews, she thanked people for coming and often found tears on her face as they offered their support. Katie’s husband, Dean, had shown up with Savannah in a stroller. On the stroller was a picture of Monica holding Savannah as an infant. The picture had been taken right before Monica had gone to work so she was wearing her scrubs. A thought bubble above Savannah’s head said,
LEAVE MY AUNTIE ALONE, BULLY!

Cars drove by honking in support, there were discussions of hospital politics, and there were many nurses who mentioned that it could very well have been them that had fallen prey to the hospital’s actions.

It was all so very overwhelming. Monica thought of calling Trent, to share the moment with him, and was pulling her phone from her back pocket when a man approached her from behind.

“Nurse Mann?”

Monica turned around and smiled. The stout clean-cut man was terribly familiar, but recognition didn’t come instantly. “Hello.”

“I wanted to say thank you.” As he spoke shock rolled over every inch of her.

“Oh, my God. Gary? Gary Owens?” How was that possible? He looked sober, healthy. Even a little attractive maybe. What he didn’t look like was the man she’d read the riot act the last day she’d worked in the ER.

A coy smile passed over his mouth and he nodded confirming his identity. “Almost four months sober.” He held up his wrist, which had some kind of charm bracelet denoting his sobriety. “I wouldn’t have tried if you hadn’t pushed me.”

There was no stopping the tears in Monica’s eyes. In her peripheral vision she noticed a camera on the two of them.

“You look great.” And he did.

“I feel good. When I saw this on TV, I had to come.”

“Wow, Gary. I’m not sure what to say.”

He shook his head, had tears of his own he was brushing away. “You don’t have to say anything. Sometimes it only takes one person to make you realize what’s important. You did that, and I’ll always be grateful.”

“I’m so happy for you.”

He shuffled for a bit, then asked, “Can I hug you?”

Monica opened her arms and hugged a man she once thought she never wanted to see again. “Best of luck to you,” she said before he walked away and picked up a picket sign.

Another voice interrupted her thoughts. “Was that Gary Owens?” John asked.

“Yes. Can you believe it?”

“Some people do change,” he said.

She turned toward her ex and grinned.

“I heard you were with the guy from Jamaica.”

They hadn’t really talked about the two of them since she returned. He’d called a few times, tried to get her to go out with him, but she never said yes.

“I am.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t stand a chance, do I?”

Now there were tears in her eyes for other reasons. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“And I wish I was the guy who made you happy.”

“I really do mean it when I say I’d like to still be friends, John.”

He opened his arms and Monica had no problem going to them. When he pulled away, he kissed her cheek. “Take care.”

She twisted around to watch him walk away and her eyes collided with Trent’s.

His face was stone-cold.

Her heart did a hard kick in her chest and she waited for him to move. The excitement of seeing him was mixed with the fear that he’d misinterpret what he’d just seen between her and John. But if they were ever going to move forward, he needed to trust her, and she needed to trust that he wasn’t running off without explanations.

She fisted her hands at her sides and waited for the cold stare to melt, and just when she thought he’d turn and run, he opened his arms.

Those movies where the woman ran into the arms of her guy had always seemed contrived until that moment. Trent lifted her into his arms and whirled her around. “I missed you,” he said, his voice tight.

He set her on her feet and kissed her, and not a little peck but a full-on tongue-to-tongue bedroom kiss that wasn’t suitable for television. She was a little breathless and pink cheeked when he let her go and found some of the staff staring and catcalling.

“Looks like Queenie is thawing,” she heard someone yell.

Monica waved off their comments. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Looks like I need to stick around or risk someone pushing in.” He was smiling as he said his words.

“They can push, but they’ll never get in.”

He kissed her again, briefly.

The phone in her back pocket buzzed and she reached for it. It was after five, and the call was from her lawyer.

Her hand shook as she took the call and plugged her opposite ear to hear. “Please tell me you have good news,” was how she answered the phone.

Goldstein laughed. “They dropped the case, Monica. Congratulations.”

She reached out for Trent and squeezed his arm. “You’re serious.”

He laughed. “I’ll call you next week about the countersuit. They’re already talking settlement.”

Trent stared at her now, searching for answers with his gaze.

The grin on her face stretched from California to Boston. “Thanks, Larry.”

“Have a great week, Monica.”

She screamed when she hung up and threw herself into Trent’s arms.

Katie walked over, Dean and Savannah at her side. “Well?”

Monica found her feet again, but Trent kept his arm around her. “They dropped.”

Hugs and congratulations spread until someone put a bullhorn in Monica’s hand.

“Can I get your attention. Everyone?” She waited for the crowd to turn her way.

Trent picked her up and put her on a chair so she could look above the heads of the people gathered.

“I just got off the phone with my attorney. The hospital dropped the case.”

When the clapping died down, Monica thanked everyone for their support and effort in helping her.

Katie took the horn from her when she was done. “We have a banquet prepared over at The Morrison for all of you to help celebrate. So let’s get the party started.”

The banquet was complete with a full buffet dinner with champagne fountains and a DJ.

“How could you have known they’d drop the case?” Monica asked Katie as she stood beside Trent, Dean, and Walt as they toasted a successful day.

“I didn’t. But I love a party and figured we’d thank everyone for coming.”

“I knew they’d drop the case,” Dean said.

“Me, too.” Trent hugged her into his side.

“Well, I’m glad they did. Now I can move on.”

“What are you going to do now?” Walt asked.

She’d already told him she wouldn’t be returning to the hospital to work. “I think I’m going back to school. Get my masters.”

“Nurse practitioners?”

The more she thought about it, the better she liked the idea. “Yeah.”

Walt’s smile fell. “I guess you won’t be back to Borderless Nurses.”

“I’ve not ruled it out, Walt.”

Monica noticed Gary Owens walking by some of the staff and shaking their hands. He had a Coke in his steady hand. “Don’t take me off the roster yet.”

She and Trent stayed until the last guest left before heading back to her apartment.

As they walked inside, she came to the realization that her time there was coming to an end. “I’m going to miss this place,” she muttered as she walked into the living room and kicked off her shoes.

Trent sat next to her, and pulled her into his lap. “Are you leaving?” He asked his question with a smile on his lips.

“Seems silly to have a two-bedroom apartment when it’s just me here.”

His smile fell, but Monica didn’t relieve his thoughts quite yet. “You didn’t run away.”

There wasn’t a need to explain what she referred to. Trent nuzzled her neck. “I wanted to deck him.”

“But you didn’t, and you didn’t bolt, either.”

“I want to say it didn’t enter my mind, but the feeling to leave was brief. My desire to stick around and fight for you was stronger.”

Monica pushed a lock of hair that had fallen forward away from his eyes. “You don’t have to fight for what’s already yours.”

He leaned in to kiss her and she pulled away. “Wait. I need to say something.”

His eyes searched hers and he leaned back to listen.

“I figured out what my one thing is. You know, that one thing in my life that I need to make every day worth living.” Her heart fluttered in her chest as she realized without a doubt what that one thing was.

“Oh, what’s that?”

As if he couldn’t figure it out. “I more than miss you when you’re gone. It’s like I’m empty inside. It’s you that I need.”

His coy smile slid and he didn’t let her pull away as he kissed her, soft and intimate with lots of sparkly promise.

“Wait, I’m not done.”

He leaned his forehead against hers and waited.

She took a deep breath and leapt from the tallest obstacle on which she’d ever been perched. “I’m going to tell you something. I don’t expect a response.” She hesitated. “I love you.”

Trent closed his eyes. “Say that again,” he whispered.

“I love you, Trent.”

He found her gaze and stared deep inside. “Thank God.”

The edge of despair in his voice placed a smile on her face.

“I didn’t want to fall alone. I love you, Monica.” He held her face in his hand and said, “God, do I love you!”

Yeah, she might have told him he didn’t have to repeat the words, but damn it was good to hear them. Any ice left of the queen was shattered with his words.

Her lips met his in a hungry kiss, greedy and full of desire. His arms circled her waist, pushed under her shirt.

She sucked his tongue into her mouth and feasted on his lips. Lips she loved, with the man who broke through her walls and
emotional boundaries. It no longer mattered where their relationship would lead so long as they were together on the journey.

Monica squirmed on his lap, not content to feel his rising need pressed against her thigh. There were much better places for that part of his anatomy than her thigh and damn if she wasn’t ready to experience it… him again. Using the sofa for leverage, she lifted her knee over his legs and startled him. Even between their clothes, their combined heat burned. She arched into him with a low moan of pleasure.

Skilled hands ran along the edge of her bra, undid the clasp, and filled his palms with the weight of her breasts.

He broke the kiss and held her to him with both hands as he lifted both of them from the couch. Clasping on with her legs, she used her lips to suck on the lobe of his ear. “Jeez, Monica, you make it hard to walk.”

She giggled. “Oh, you’re hard. Very yummy and hard.”

In her room, he fell with her onto her bed, pinned her, and thrust his hips into hers.

“We have way too many clothes on, Barefoot.” She tugged at his shirt, freed it from his shoulders, and tossed it away.

Trent helped her out of her shirt and leaned in to taste her needy breasts. Their endless foreplay had ended right here for weeks. Not this time.

She reached for his pants, undid the clasp, and thrust her hand inside.

He pulled away from her long enough to groan. Using his surprise she shifted her leg over him until she rode on top. “I think it’s my turn to be on top,” she said.