It was amazing the number of ways she found to avoid Nigel in the days that followed: the excuses to exit when they found themselves in the same room, the detours around the office to miss crossing paths.
She knew if Woody had never called the morning after, it wouldn't be this way. Nigel was a friend, he was family. They would have moved on, spoken of what happened fondly, maybe even laughed about it some day.
But Woody had called, and seeing Nigel every day served as a reminder of the secret she kept from the man she loved.
It was in the first few days of Woody's recovery that she thought she might give it away. She wore her guilt on her sleeve. But then he had improved dramatically. Feeling returned to his legs, and he was almost immediately up and walking on crutches.
Now, everything was going to be all right, Woody would never need to know a thing. Avoiding Nigel suddenly seemed very childish.
At least that's what she told herself as she stood outside trace with a file gripped in her hands. Nigel was inside, alone, and it was a situation she usually tried to avoid, but she took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.
"Morning, Nige," she said as brightly as she could muster.
He looked up from the slide he was preparing. "Hello, Jordan."
They stood smiling stiffly at each other, saying nothing. It was already not going as well as she had hoped. "Do you believe this weather we're having?" She groaned inwardly. Weather?
"Hmmm," came his reply. The buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead filled the silent space. "How've you been?"
"Great. Great. Fine. Busy. I mean, you wouldn't believe," she said with exaggeration. "You?"
"Fine." Another silence. She pretended to be engrossed in her file. "How's Woody?"
She looked up, blinked. "He's...great." She couldn't help but smile. "He's walking. The doctors are amazed at his progress. He's actually coming home tomorrow. You should see him getting around on his cane. He's really..." She realized she was gushing. "He's doing well. Thanks."
"Good. I'm glad to hear it. He deserves a break." He smiled wistfully, and she gave him a small, doubtful frown. "Well, come on, Jordan, I'm not a completely heartless git. Congratulations. Really."
"Thanks," she whispered in a small voice. She took a hesitant step forward. "Look. I know I've been avoiding you lately..."
"Really?"
"Oh, tell me you haven't run the other way more than once when you've seen me coming." He gave her a sheepish shrug. "We can be adults about this." Her eyes scanned the room, searching for the words. "We both needed something, someone. But in the end, I'm not Sarah."
"And I'm not Woody," he added sadly.
She nodded. "What happened was a mistake. I think we both know that, but there's no reason we can't still be friends, is there?"
He looked down and shuffled his feet. "I was half-pissed and out of my mind over Sarah that night, but I admit it...I've always had a crush, Jordan. So, you'll have to forgive me if this is one mistake I don't entirely regret making."
Her mouth dropped. "I...didn't know, Nigel."
"Of course not. Despite all your protestations to the contrary, you only had eyes for Woodrow." She blushed and looked away. "Tell me. Are you happy, Jordan?"
Her grin broadened. "Yes. I actually think I'm...happy." Oh, there was the small matter of the secret between her and Woody, but she was happy for the first time in a very long while. "I'm happy."
"I'm glad." He smiled back at her. He stepped forward and impulsively kissed her on the forehead before sweeping from the room and leaving her there with her file.
XXXXXXXX
"Can we stop at the morgue, Jordan?"
She whipped her head around. "What? I mean...why?"
"Well, everybody was so nice. Sending flowers, visiting. I'd kind of like to thank them in person. It's right on the way."
Her jaw pumped up and down wordlessly. "Um...are you sure you're up to it?"
"Yeah, I think. Just for a minute or two."
"You're the boss." She changed lanes and made the turn-off for the morgue building.
Her heart began to pound on the ride up the elevator. She closed her eyes. Breathe, Jordan, breathe.
"How's Nigel?"
Her eyes snapped open. Woody was smiling at her benignly. "Nigel? Why?"
"I don't know...he was the only one who never came to the hospital. I thought maybe he was sick or out of town or something."
"No. I don't know. Busy. We're all swamped with this new regime. I'm sure it's nothing." She leaned forward and jabbed nervously at their floor button.
"Oh. OK. I thought maybe I'd said something to offend him maybe without even knowing it."
"Hey, ya got me. I don't really keep tabs on Nigel."
She was relieved when the doors opened, and she helped him out. He was doing well. He was pale and still weak, but he was able to get around with just a cane. His mental outlook was good, too. He had his moments of moodiness when he was frustrated with his progress or when he would wake from a dream of the shooting, but he was happy, over the moon, really.
Lily saw him first. She burst into tears, of course, and hugged him so hard she nearly knocked him over. She dragged him into the break room where her co-workers poured themselves morning coffee.
Jordan hadn't seen him smile like that in awhile. There were tears and laughter, and Woody bashfully wiped the lipstick kisses off his cheeks. Slocum walked by and cast a disapproving eye on their gathering, but not even he could dampen their spirits.
Someone pulled Jordan aside, and Woody found himself face to face with Nigel.
"Nigel! Good to see you," he said cheerfully and offered his hand.
There was just a beat before Nigel took it. "You're looking well, Woodrow."
"Feeling well." He beamed as he kept pumping Nigel's hand. "Being able to walk has that effect." He lifted the end of his cane and gestured toward Jordan. "And there's the other reason. I tell ya, I am one lucky man, Nigel," he said, his eyes still on Jordan. "I survive a gunshot wound, find out I'm going to walk again, and get Jordan back all in the space of a couple of days."
"Lucky indeed," Nigel said flatly.
"She's amazing. You know, I didn't think this would ever happen. Too many mixed signals, too many crossed wires. But it's going to be different this time. No lies, no dishonesty, we're starting fresh and I...can't believe I'm telling you all this." He blushed and laughed as he looked down in embarassment.
Nigel offered his hand again. "Good luck, Woody."
It seemed to Woody a very solemn delivery, but he took Nigel's hand. "Thanks, Nige."
"Take care of our girl, would you?"
"For as long as she'll let me." He grinned and Nigel clapped him on the shoulder as he moved away.
Jordan pushed her way through the small crowd that had gathered in the break room, her face set in an anxious frown. "Well, what was that all about?"
"What do you mean?"
"You and Nigel."
"We were just talking. I think he's taking that whole thing with the psycho soccer mom kind of hard."
"I guess so."
He slipped his free arm around her waist and whispered in her ear. "I know the doc still hasn't cleared me for action yet, but all I want to do is get you home alone."
"Yeah, and just how long did he say it was going to be?" she whispered back.
"Patience, Jordan. We've waited this long." She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. He laughed and gave her a quick kiss. "Come on, take me home."
He squeezed her hand and turned for the door, not noticing the anxious glance she and Nigel traded as she followed him out.