It was just the long shift, the fact that she was starving, and that she’d just broken the heel on one of her favorite pairs of shoes. It had been a silly, impulsive thing to wear them in the first place. After a fifteen-hour shift, the last thing she had wanted to do was put on heels, even if they were only two inches tall. It had nothing to do with the fact that she’d wanted to look pretty just in case a certain doctor had decided to show up at work.
When Sage saw the blinking light on the answering machine, she turned away. She had no curiosity at all to see who’d called. She deserved a trophy for not calling her grandmother and berating her for her unconscionable actions. Not that Sage would be able to do that. It was just best not to talk to the woman until she could say something nice.
“Meddling old people thinking they know best,” she mumbled as she kicked off her shoes, not caring that they were flying beneath her perfectly decorated Christmas tree.
Looking at the tree only reminded her of her trip with Spence to the mountains, of the fun they’d had picking out his tree, of decorating it, of the absolute euphoria that had come afterward.
Turning her back on the tree, which she now wanted to throw outside as yard waste, she walked slowly toward the kitchen. Although the thought of food repelled her right then, she had to get something into her stomach, and then climb into her bed.
Sleep. That’s all she needed. A great night’s sleep, and then a beautiful Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with her grandmother. Of course she wouldn’t hold a grudge against the woman who’d raised her—she loved her grandma, and she could see how the woman had been trying to help, according to her old-fashioned ideas. If only it hadn’t meant that Sage was more miserable now than she could ever remember.
Still, the apartment was too quiet, bitterly quiet. Sage really wished her best friend were there. She and Grace had been missing each other too much. Both she and Grace worked erratic hours, making it near impossible to see each other. Sage didn’t want to admit any form of weakness, but she could really use a friend right now.
“No. I’m fine. Women survive breakups all the time. One little fight won’t turn me into a blithering idiot. I will eat some dinner, and then I will sleep. When I wake up, I’ll be back to myself, putting this whole Spence situation far behind me.” There. If that little speech didn’t turn her around, she didn’t know what would.
She halted when she reached the kitchen. There on the table sat a wrapped package. At first her heart fluttered, and then she forced it to calm down.
“No. This will not make me sappy. This will not change my mind. It’s ridiculous. I’m not even going to open you up,” she said, before realizing that she was speaking to an inanimate object. Was this what it was like to lose your mind? She wouldn’t be a bit surprised.
She went over to the fridge and reached inside, grabbing the orange juice and a couple of sticks of string cheese. Just to show how strong she was, she sat at the kitchen table and carefully pulled back the plastic on the cheese, then began peeling it apart and taking tiny bites on each strand, while sipping on the orange juice to lengthen the “meal.”
“I don’t care what the package is. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll just throw it in the garbage. It’s probably something stupid anyway,” she muttered. She finished the first stick of cheese and slowly unwrapped the second one.
The box was screaming at her to open it. No. Sage was much stronger than her curiosity. It wouldn’t matter if the box was filled with twenty-four-karat-gold bars. She didn’t want to know.
Her brain mocked her. Yes, you do.
“No, I don’t.”
Sage’s mouth dropped open when she said those words out loud. That was it—she was officially going crazy. If she was going to argue out loud with herself, she was in serious trouble.
“I’m a doctor, for crying out loud. I’ve been through undergraduate school, medical school, many sleepless nights. I don’t need to get this upset over a man, and I don’t need to argue with myself over whether or not to open a stupid box.”
She wished again that Grace was home. Then, at least, she’d be speaking to another human being and not a package or the wall or, even worse, herself.
Sage finished her cheese and orange juice, then turned and walked deliberately from the kitchen, not allowing herself to turn back around. She made it halfway down the hallway before she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. Unable to see the kitchen or the table from this vantage point, she gripped the walls.
“No, no, no.”
She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t cave in to such a weakness as curiosity. “Curiosity does kill the cat,” she reminded herself. But she still turned and began walking back toward the kitchen.
“What if it’s something that’s alive?” How could she not open that package? “I mean, it would be wrong if something died because I didn’t care enough to take off a lid. It’s not that I really care what Spence has sent over.” Sure, she told herself, there were no airholes, but you never knew . . .
She stood there at the kitchen table, gazing at the bright silver box and sparkling blue bow, and she waited. Running her finger over the bow, she looked for a card. Nothing. There was always a card attached, usually only a few words, but there was always a card.
Why not this time? Maybe because he’d given up caring about her, but he wanted to finish this silly game he’d begun. Okay, if he wanted closure, she’d give him his stupid closure. Anyway, she couldn’t stand the suspense anymore, so she lifted the lid and found tissue paper on top. Almost fearful, she removed the paper and then sank down into the chair.