Page 63 of Good Girl’s Guide to Love (Guide to Love #4)

ainsley

I’ve never been so glad to get cut in all of my years as a nurse.

We had a really hard birth this morning. Luckily, baby and mama are going to be fine, but it was scary for a while.

Then I thought my day was getting better when I had a delivery at lunch.

I’d told Linc last night that I was weirdly craving tomato soup and grilled cheese.

So when the reception desk called to tell me I had a delivery, I was excited for what I thought was Linc being Linc.

Especially since he’s on the road for an away game.

It wasn’t him. It was flowers from Jonathan, with a note asking if he could take me to dinner tonight to “see where I was at.”

I took the flowers to a patient’s room. They were nice flowers and shouldn’t go to waste, but I didn’t want to have to look at them any longer than I had to.

So when we were slow on the floor—babies come when babies want to come—my charge nurse asked for volunteers to leave early.

I couldn’t have raised my hand fast enough.

Which is why I’m now speedwalking to the elevators, one Stanley in hand, my cell phone in the other, as I’m ready to get home and shower off the day.

All I want is to talk to Linc before he has to report for curfew and enjoy my day off tomorrow away from the hospital and watching my man play against the New York Vipers.

Ainsley

Leaving work early. I had a day. Hope to talk to you tonight

Linc doesn’t respond, which I figured he wouldn’t. I know he has team meetings before they’re dismissed for dinner. But he did tell me to text him when I left work, and I’m proud of myself for not overthinking whether or not to text him earlier than he expected.

Look at me go.

The elevator comes and I hit the button to take me to the employee parking garage, but unfortunately, it stops two floors away.

“Ainsley! What a surprise.”

The groan I let out echoes through the elevator. “Jonathan.”

He steps into the elevator, but strangely doesn’t press a button. I don’t think this is a surprise. I don’t know how he knew I was leaving—no one on my floor would tell him anything, let alone my comings and goings—but this can’t be a coincidence. Especially not after the flowers today.

“Did you get my present?”

“I did.”

I stare at the lights as they move from floor to floor. Normally these elevators are pretty fast. Today they’re moving at a snail’s pace.

“So since you’re getting off early, and my on-call shift is over, do you want to take me up on that dinner date?”

“No, Jonathan, I don’t.”

I don’t look at him as I respond, instead thanking the heavens above as the doors open to lead me into the parking garage, where I’m only a few cars away.

“Ainsley! Can we talk?”

Why is he following me? Also, why can’t this man take a hint? It’s not even a hint at this point. It’s a loud, flashing sign accompanied by the crazy inflatable waving-arm tube man outside the car dealership.

I turn on a dime, though I didn’t realize how close he was to me. I’m a few steps from my car, and Jonathan is so close I can feel his breath.

“Jonathan! Get the hell away from me.”

The strength in my voice—and my use of hell—takes him back slightly, but he’s still too close to me for my liking.

“Why are you acting like this?” he asks.

Me? He’s asking me that? “I could ask you the same question. And frankly, I’d rather dig into that. Because why won’t you leave me alone? I’ve moved on. And you should too.”

He rolls his eyes. “Really, Ainsley? You’re still pretending with that guy?”

“It’s real!” I yell, my voice echoing off of the cement walls of the garage. “You’re the one choosing not to believe that, and I don’t know what else I can do to make you understand that I want nothing to do with you!”

He shakes his head, taking a step toward me. I was already close to my car, and his movements make me reverse until I feel my back hit the metal. Both of his hands reach out, essentially pinning me against my practical Honda Civic.

“What’s he done to you?” His voice is low, and it sends a chill down my spine.

“Jonathan. Back up. Now. Or I swear I’ll scream.”

He rolls his eyes again, but slowly does what I ask.

“I don’t know who you are anymore,” he says, shaking his head in disappointment at me. “You don’t raise your voice. Or swear. You don’t go out drinking. Or partying. And PDA? What was that about? Where did my Ainsley go?”

He could be talking about the karaoke bar, but I have a feeling if he knows when I’m leaving the hospital, then he saw photos on social media this week of Linc and I kissing in public. He has two away games in a row, so we took Tuesday to have a little date night.

God forbid a girl kiss her boyfriend after he takes her for ice cream.

And gave her an orgasm in the car. But nobody else needs to know that.

“Your Ainsley? I was never your Ainsley.” Sure, I might’ve thought that when we were together.

But now that I’m with Linc? Now that I truly know what it’s like to be wanted and desired by someone—and vice versa—it’s laughable that I thought I ever had that with Jonathan.

“I might not be the Ainsley from the past, but every day I’m learning who I truly am.

I’m happy. I’ve moved on. You need to as well. For good.”

Just as I finish my monologue, my phone starts ringing, and I let out a sigh of relief when I hear the song that Linc made his personal ring tone. And yes, it’s the song I sang to him badly at karaoke. And judging by Jonathan’s face, he clearly remembers.

“This is Linc. Would you like to tell him why you sent his girlfriend flowers today and stalked her into a parking garage? Or should I?”

Jonathan’s eyes narrow as he contemplates his answer. “I’m not giving up, Ainsley.”

“You should,” I say as I hit the accept button for the FaceTime call. “Hey, babe. How are you?”

I hold the phone up, but I’m not looking directly at him. But I can tell he’s a little confused, because in the nearly two months we’ve been together—real and fake—I don’t think I’ve ever called him “babe.”

“Still at work? I figured I’d catch you on the drive.”

I don’t reply yet, making sure I keep an eye on Jonathan as he slowly retreats to the elevator. Once he’s in and I see the lights start moving, I finally let out a breath.

“Baby? You okay? What’s going on?”

“Jonathan,” I say as I hurry and throw my things in my backseat before I tear out of the parking garage. And by tear I mean going five more miles over the speed limit with my seatbelt securely fastened.

“What the fuck do you mean, Jonathan ?”

I try to slow my heart rate down, because the more I’m worked up, the more I’m going to work up Linc. And considering he’s in Chicago right now, worrying about me the night before a game is the last thing he needs to do.

I shake my head as I pull to a stop light. “I’m fine. Just a little shook up.”

“You’re more than shook up, but I don’t want you telling me all of this while you’re driving.”

“Okay. I’ll call you back when I get to my apartment?”

I see him shaking his head. “Absolutely not. I’m staying right here. And I’m just going to sit with you so I know you get home safe.”

I nod and feel tears starting to form in my eyes, the adrenaline wearing off as I make the fifteen-minute drive from the hospital to my apartment.

I have my phone on a dock, so I give a few glances to Linc, who’s lying on a bed in his hotel room.

What I wouldn’t give to be driving to him tonight, knowing that his touch would be the exact cure to wipe away thoughts of this insane day.

What is Jonathan’s deal? Yes, he’s never been one to get the hint. The relief I felt when he moved to San Antonio was immense. But this seems extreme, even for him. Mia wanted me to file for a restraining order before he moved. Maybe it’s time I consider it.

Luckily, the drive home is quick tonight, and I’m walking to my apartment before I know it. Linc hasn’t said anything, and even it’s just through the phone, I do feel more relaxed knowing he’s with me.

“Okay, I’m here,” I say, literally dropping all of my water bottles and my bag onto the floor as soon as I walk in. My tennis shoes are off just as quickly as I physically fall into my couch.

“Are you okay?”

He already asked me that, but I can tell by the worried look in his eyes he needs confirmation. “I’m fine. Just…I don’t know. Something is up.”

I go on to recount the day—well, the parts involving Jonathan. With each detail, his face gets redder. A vein in his neck starts to pulse, and while it’s slightly sexy, I’m more worried that I’m about to give this poor man a stroke.

“I’m going to kill him, Ainsley,” he says. “Contract or not, I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“While I appreciate your willingness to give up your career in my honor, let’s try and make it not come to that,” I say. “But I do think I need to go to human resources about this on Monday.”

“You absolutely are,” he says. “And I’m going with you.”

“Linc, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know. I want to.”

The seriousness and worried look in his eyes hits me in the heart. “Okay. Thank you. And thank you for staying on the phone with me.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad I called when I did. I’m also proud of you. Standing up to him like that? That took balls, Ainsley Mae.”

“Thanks,” I say with a shrug, like it’s not a big deal. Even though now that I think about it, it was a big deal. “It was a scary situation, and I was more confused than anything. But telling him off? That felt pretty freaking good.”

“Damn right it did.”

We share a smile as I make my way into my bedroom and sit on the side of my bed. My heartbeat is finally back to normal, thank goodness, and frankly, all I want now is to talk about anything other than Jonathan. “Are you by yourself? Where’s Wyatt?”

I see Linc relax a little more as well. “He and a few of the guys went to dinner.”

“Why didn’t you go?”