I disclaim! Sorry it's taken me sooo long to get another chapter up but I
had major writer's block. I had future chapters written but I had to fill
in the blank somehow. Thank you so much for reading! Special thanks to kat
and kalvana who helped dig me out of the writer's block whether they know
it or not! LOL Ewww and as I am reading this, I feel this chapter might be
a bit of a snoozer but I feel like I had to have it in here for obvious
reasons. . . LOL
Chapter 5: Falling In Like
"Okay, okay," Chloe smiled. "You get to ask me three questions and I get to ask you three?"
"Yes," Brady nodded, chuckling softly at the beaming woman sitting Indian- style on his hospital bed. It had been three days since she had stayed with him that night where neither really spoke. All Brady remembered was Chloe squeezing his hand tightly as he drifted off to sleep. He'd always been pretty uneasy in hospitals. Something about them just gave him the creeps. But Chloe had been with him every chance she got and they were at that stage now where things were fresh and new, each trying to feel the other out, discover what, if anything, they had in common.
"Deal," Chloe giggled at her patient grinning madly from his place in bed.
"Okay, hmmm. . ." He began. "Favorite kind of music?"
"Opera, of course. Musicals. Things like that."
"Of course? Big opera buff, huh?" He poked her stomach.
"Yes," she batted his hand away.
"Me too. So what's your favorite?"
"Favorite Opera? That's easy: La Traviata. Favorite musical: Phantom of the Opera, of course. Cheesy I know, but I love it. It's timeless. Music of the Night, Think of Me, Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again." She paused. "Angel of Music. . ."
"Angel of Music," Brady repeated softly, a far-off look in his eyes. Why had that seemed so familiar? He cleared his throat. "So, what do-"
"Oh no you don't."
"What?"
"That was three questions." She stood from his bed.
"No it wasn't."
"Uh huh. Favorite kind of music, are you an opera buff and favorite opera: three questions."
Brady scoffed. "That second question doesn't count, Chloe."
"Yes, it does."
"Cheater."
"Cheater?" She laughed. "Okay, just to show you my heart's in the right place. I will let you ask me another question." She took the seat on his bed again.
"Okay, if you could do anything, be anything in this whole world, what would you do?"
Chloe didn't hesitate. "I'd be doing this, Brady. I'd be nursing."
"Liar."
"No, Brady, there's nothing I'd rather do. Honestly. Nursing is one of the most direct ways to make an impact in someone's life. We teach doctor's everything they know," she giggled. "But seriously, I love my job, absolutely love it. For the longest time, growing up in foster homes, in the orphanage, as a young woman, I thought for sure I'd be at the Met someday. I'd be this famous opera diva and I would wow the world with my voice."
"What happened?"
"Fate." Chloe smiled. "Craig was choking on a piece of hotdog when I saved his life. It was like nothing I'd ever seen or done before. I just know that ever since then, I've felt this need to do this, to touch people's lives. . . to save them."
"Fate?" His brow furrowed. "You believe in fate so strongly?"
"Oh no Brady. You've had your three questions, four questions really. And now it's my turn."
Brady groaned. "Whoopee."
Chloe laughed. "Turn that frown upside down or I'll get George in here."
"And we wouldn't want that," Brady finished for her with a smile.
"No, we wouldn't," the room grew quiet as they smiled at each other. "So, Mr. Black," Chloe broke the spell. "Do you believe in fate?"
"Can I make that a resounding 'no'?"
"Really?"
"Really. Is that so shocking? I think most of the world believes what I do. They're just too afraid to admit it."
"And what's that, oh wise one?"
"That everything that happens is coincidence. We're all an accident. We're just here, living on this huge ball, flying through space. No one cares what we do or think except for the people living among us and sometimes, even they don't give a damn. Like Shakespeare said, Chloe, 'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts.' In other words: You're born, you dance around for a while and then you die. "
"What!? That's not what Shakespeare was saying," Chloe chuckled.
"Isn't it," Brady raised his eyebrows at her, challenging her.
She thought about it for a moment. "I guess it all depends on how you look at things. Glass half full, half empty kind of stuff."
"And I guess you think I'm pretty pessimistic, don't you?"
"Yeah," Chloe agreed, nodding. "I thought I was bad but you, sir, you take the cake."
"Next question." Brady frowned, suddenly uncomfortable. He'd never really liked talking about himself. He didn't know why he was now. He should just throw her out of his room.
Chloe smiled; glad to catch him off balance and wanting to see him topple. "What do you think of love?"
"Kind of a broad question. That's not really fair."
"Hey, now, you got your chance to ask questions. It's my turn now." Chloe poked his chest. "What do you think of love?"
"There is no creature loves me, and if I die, no soul shall pity me." He said quickly and turned away from her; beating his pillow with his fist before letting his head fall into it with an ungraceful thump.
"Would you stop quoting Shakespeare, Brady? God," Chloe sighed, exasperated. "Say what's in your heart. Say what you feel."
"I'm tired."
"Oh no," she moved to the other side of his bed to face him. "You're not getting out of this. Relax, Brady. After what you've just told me, I don't expect you give love gushing reviews."
"Fine."
"Okay," Chloe said, after he was still silent. "What do you think of love Brady? Do you even believe in it? Do you believe in soulmates?"
"That's more than three questions."
"That's only so you don't try and dance your way around the question again. Call them subquestions."
"Subquestions, huh?" Brady laughed but sighed, his smiling falling as he saw the serious set to Chloe's face. Why was she trying to make this conversation so deep? Why the hell did she want to know all this? "What do I think of love? I think it's a crock. Do I believe in love? No. Do I believe in soulmates? Definitely not. End of discussion." He closed his eyes. He didn't want to see the look on her face. He hated caring what other people thought of him. Chloe probably thought he was some scrooge, some grumpy old man in a young man's shoes. Why it bothered him so much, he didn't know.
After the initial shock of having the man she felt was her soulmate declare those disheartening words, she recovered. "I still have one more question."
"You d-" But Brady really wasn't sure how many questions she'd asked so he figured 'what the hell.' He was too tired to argue with her anyway.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why don't you believe in love? Why don't you believe in soulmates?" She had to know.
"Chloe," Brady whined. "Don't you have patients to see?"
"I'm off my shift, you know that."
"Well don't you have to go home and wash that thick, gorgeous mass of hair of yours?" He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair, something he'd wanted to do for a long time.
She shuddered lightly and tried to remain unaffected. "Flattery will get you everywhere but not right now. Answer the question."
He sighed, dropping back down onto his pillow. "You want to know what I think of love. My father fell in love with a beautiful woman. She had beautiful brown hair and these amazing eyes. She was kind and unique. She was an angel."
"Isabella? Your mother?"
"Yes." He studied his hands. "They had me. They were. . . in love," he almost spat. "And then she died." He felt himself tear up. "Less than three years later he was with Marlena and they had my sister. And I love Marlena and I love Belle but sometimes. . ." he trailed off.
"Sometimes what, Brady?"
"Sometimes I miss my mother. Sometimes I miss her so much it hurts. And it's like this hole, this great, big empty hole inside of me. And nothing can fill it up. Sometimes I think 'If there is God, if He is so great, then I'd have my mother back. She would have never left me.' All I heard my whole childhood was 'Brady, she's up there, looking down on you, smiling down on you, loving you.'"
Chloe nodded, not sure why she was so confident. "She is."
"Bullshit," Brady spat. "I can't feel it. There's nothing up there, Chloe. What does that mean, Chloe? What does it mean that my father could fall in love with another woman so easily, so quickly, as if my mother never existed?"
"Brady, your father loved your mother and I'm sure a great part of him still does. But he and Marlena connected too. In their own way, they are connected too. That's possible. Do you think your mother would have wanted your father to close his heart off, never open himself up to love again just because he could lose it?"
"No," Brady conceded.
"Do you think your mother would have wanted you to close your heart off, because you're afraid of what might happen if you let someone in? Because you're afraid of losing that someone like your father lost Isabella?"
"I guess not, but-" he tried to think of an out, an excuse, something to keep that layer of ice he'd always kept around his heart from melting. "I guess not." There really was nothing more to say.
"You guess not?" Chloe smiled. "Get some sleep, Brady." She patted one of his cast bound legs.
"That's what I've been trying to do." He hit her with his pillow and laughed; glad she was leaving. She made him far too uncomfortable.
"Okay, okay," she jumped off of the bed and headed for the door. She couldn't help herself as she turned around to look at the man who had unknowingly awaken her heart. She leaned against his door. Could she be so bold?
"Yes, Chloe, what is it?"
"I believe in love, Brady. And now, I believe in soulmates. And since we're throwing around quotes here," she added quickly. "I believe that love is a sign from the heavens, that you are here for a reason." With that, she quietly left the room.
Brady sighed, spent. "What the hell was that?" He ran a hand through his hair. "Chloe, Chloe, Chloe, what the hell are you doing to me?"
TBC. Very soon too 'cause I think I know where I am going with this story now LOL
Thanks to Shakespeare and J.Ghetto for their insightfulness LOL!
Chapter 5: Falling In Like
"Okay, okay," Chloe smiled. "You get to ask me three questions and I get to ask you three?"
"Yes," Brady nodded, chuckling softly at the beaming woman sitting Indian- style on his hospital bed. It had been three days since she had stayed with him that night where neither really spoke. All Brady remembered was Chloe squeezing his hand tightly as he drifted off to sleep. He'd always been pretty uneasy in hospitals. Something about them just gave him the creeps. But Chloe had been with him every chance she got and they were at that stage now where things were fresh and new, each trying to feel the other out, discover what, if anything, they had in common.
"Deal," Chloe giggled at her patient grinning madly from his place in bed.
"Okay, hmmm. . ." He began. "Favorite kind of music?"
"Opera, of course. Musicals. Things like that."
"Of course? Big opera buff, huh?" He poked her stomach.
"Yes," she batted his hand away.
"Me too. So what's your favorite?"
"Favorite Opera? That's easy: La Traviata. Favorite musical: Phantom of the Opera, of course. Cheesy I know, but I love it. It's timeless. Music of the Night, Think of Me, Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again." She paused. "Angel of Music. . ."
"Angel of Music," Brady repeated softly, a far-off look in his eyes. Why had that seemed so familiar? He cleared his throat. "So, what do-"
"Oh no you don't."
"What?"
"That was three questions." She stood from his bed.
"No it wasn't."
"Uh huh. Favorite kind of music, are you an opera buff and favorite opera: three questions."
Brady scoffed. "That second question doesn't count, Chloe."
"Yes, it does."
"Cheater."
"Cheater?" She laughed. "Okay, just to show you my heart's in the right place. I will let you ask me another question." She took the seat on his bed again.
"Okay, if you could do anything, be anything in this whole world, what would you do?"
Chloe didn't hesitate. "I'd be doing this, Brady. I'd be nursing."
"Liar."
"No, Brady, there's nothing I'd rather do. Honestly. Nursing is one of the most direct ways to make an impact in someone's life. We teach doctor's everything they know," she giggled. "But seriously, I love my job, absolutely love it. For the longest time, growing up in foster homes, in the orphanage, as a young woman, I thought for sure I'd be at the Met someday. I'd be this famous opera diva and I would wow the world with my voice."
"What happened?"
"Fate." Chloe smiled. "Craig was choking on a piece of hotdog when I saved his life. It was like nothing I'd ever seen or done before. I just know that ever since then, I've felt this need to do this, to touch people's lives. . . to save them."
"Fate?" His brow furrowed. "You believe in fate so strongly?"
"Oh no Brady. You've had your three questions, four questions really. And now it's my turn."
Brady groaned. "Whoopee."
Chloe laughed. "Turn that frown upside down or I'll get George in here."
"And we wouldn't want that," Brady finished for her with a smile.
"No, we wouldn't," the room grew quiet as they smiled at each other. "So, Mr. Black," Chloe broke the spell. "Do you believe in fate?"
"Can I make that a resounding 'no'?"
"Really?"
"Really. Is that so shocking? I think most of the world believes what I do. They're just too afraid to admit it."
"And what's that, oh wise one?"
"That everything that happens is coincidence. We're all an accident. We're just here, living on this huge ball, flying through space. No one cares what we do or think except for the people living among us and sometimes, even they don't give a damn. Like Shakespeare said, Chloe, 'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts.' In other words: You're born, you dance around for a while and then you die. "
"What!? That's not what Shakespeare was saying," Chloe chuckled.
"Isn't it," Brady raised his eyebrows at her, challenging her.
She thought about it for a moment. "I guess it all depends on how you look at things. Glass half full, half empty kind of stuff."
"And I guess you think I'm pretty pessimistic, don't you?"
"Yeah," Chloe agreed, nodding. "I thought I was bad but you, sir, you take the cake."
"Next question." Brady frowned, suddenly uncomfortable. He'd never really liked talking about himself. He didn't know why he was now. He should just throw her out of his room.
Chloe smiled; glad to catch him off balance and wanting to see him topple. "What do you think of love?"
"Kind of a broad question. That's not really fair."
"Hey, now, you got your chance to ask questions. It's my turn now." Chloe poked his chest. "What do you think of love?"
"There is no creature loves me, and if I die, no soul shall pity me." He said quickly and turned away from her; beating his pillow with his fist before letting his head fall into it with an ungraceful thump.
"Would you stop quoting Shakespeare, Brady? God," Chloe sighed, exasperated. "Say what's in your heart. Say what you feel."
"I'm tired."
"Oh no," she moved to the other side of his bed to face him. "You're not getting out of this. Relax, Brady. After what you've just told me, I don't expect you give love gushing reviews."
"Fine."
"Okay," Chloe said, after he was still silent. "What do you think of love Brady? Do you even believe in it? Do you believe in soulmates?"
"That's more than three questions."
"That's only so you don't try and dance your way around the question again. Call them subquestions."
"Subquestions, huh?" Brady laughed but sighed, his smiling falling as he saw the serious set to Chloe's face. Why was she trying to make this conversation so deep? Why the hell did she want to know all this? "What do I think of love? I think it's a crock. Do I believe in love? No. Do I believe in soulmates? Definitely not. End of discussion." He closed his eyes. He didn't want to see the look on her face. He hated caring what other people thought of him. Chloe probably thought he was some scrooge, some grumpy old man in a young man's shoes. Why it bothered him so much, he didn't know.
After the initial shock of having the man she felt was her soulmate declare those disheartening words, she recovered. "I still have one more question."
"You d-" But Brady really wasn't sure how many questions she'd asked so he figured 'what the hell.' He was too tired to argue with her anyway.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why don't you believe in love? Why don't you believe in soulmates?" She had to know.
"Chloe," Brady whined. "Don't you have patients to see?"
"I'm off my shift, you know that."
"Well don't you have to go home and wash that thick, gorgeous mass of hair of yours?" He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair, something he'd wanted to do for a long time.
She shuddered lightly and tried to remain unaffected. "Flattery will get you everywhere but not right now. Answer the question."
He sighed, dropping back down onto his pillow. "You want to know what I think of love. My father fell in love with a beautiful woman. She had beautiful brown hair and these amazing eyes. She was kind and unique. She was an angel."
"Isabella? Your mother?"
"Yes." He studied his hands. "They had me. They were. . . in love," he almost spat. "And then she died." He felt himself tear up. "Less than three years later he was with Marlena and they had my sister. And I love Marlena and I love Belle but sometimes. . ." he trailed off.
"Sometimes what, Brady?"
"Sometimes I miss my mother. Sometimes I miss her so much it hurts. And it's like this hole, this great, big empty hole inside of me. And nothing can fill it up. Sometimes I think 'If there is God, if He is so great, then I'd have my mother back. She would have never left me.' All I heard my whole childhood was 'Brady, she's up there, looking down on you, smiling down on you, loving you.'"
Chloe nodded, not sure why she was so confident. "She is."
"Bullshit," Brady spat. "I can't feel it. There's nothing up there, Chloe. What does that mean, Chloe? What does it mean that my father could fall in love with another woman so easily, so quickly, as if my mother never existed?"
"Brady, your father loved your mother and I'm sure a great part of him still does. But he and Marlena connected too. In their own way, they are connected too. That's possible. Do you think your mother would have wanted your father to close his heart off, never open himself up to love again just because he could lose it?"
"No," Brady conceded.
"Do you think your mother would have wanted you to close your heart off, because you're afraid of what might happen if you let someone in? Because you're afraid of losing that someone like your father lost Isabella?"
"I guess not, but-" he tried to think of an out, an excuse, something to keep that layer of ice he'd always kept around his heart from melting. "I guess not." There really was nothing more to say.
"You guess not?" Chloe smiled. "Get some sleep, Brady." She patted one of his cast bound legs.
"That's what I've been trying to do." He hit her with his pillow and laughed; glad she was leaving. She made him far too uncomfortable.
"Okay, okay," she jumped off of the bed and headed for the door. She couldn't help herself as she turned around to look at the man who had unknowingly awaken her heart. She leaned against his door. Could she be so bold?
"Yes, Chloe, what is it?"
"I believe in love, Brady. And now, I believe in soulmates. And since we're throwing around quotes here," she added quickly. "I believe that love is a sign from the heavens, that you are here for a reason." With that, she quietly left the room.
Brady sighed, spent. "What the hell was that?" He ran a hand through his hair. "Chloe, Chloe, Chloe, what the hell are you doing to me?"
TBC. Very soon too 'cause I think I know where I am going with this story now LOL
Thanks to Shakespeare and J.Ghetto for their insightfulness LOL!