A Heart Healed

Chapter 6

Naomi

“Iris, food.”

Naomi stood in front of the kitchen counter with her cat’s food bowl in hand, looking around for the black streak of fur. She had stood there for a few minutes and there was no sign of that bundle of softness. Iris wasn’t even on top of her when she woke up this morning. It was just her and the stack of paper she was reading through the previous night.

Wonder what corner she’s hiding in this time, she thought as she placed the dish in its usual spot before picking up the water dish. As she was refilling the small dish, a yawn forced its way through her.

She hadn’t slept very well last night. Instead, Naomi had stayed up late going through the contract for that new hospital the director had offered her a transfer to, thinking of the conversations she had had earlier that day. First was Olivia and her almost excitable acceptance of Marc taking her out. Naomi almost felt guilty that she didn’t mention what kind of first impression the man had made when they had met.

She knew that the man, handsome as he was, was a mess with his emotions which seemed to rub people off the wrong way. Even herself. There were a number of times when she was reminded of this memory, but then she recalled the way he was when they were alone together. Sure, he was quiet, but she was sure he was actually happier being around someone who understood that.

As an executive, he was likely to be surrounded by a lot of noise on a daily basis. Same with her own profession. There were times when you just wanted a person who you could have dinner with in a comfortable silence for a little bit. It wouldn’t be like this all the time, she was sure. The two would have to learn about each other somehow of course.

The main conversation that had kept her up, however, was the one that she had with his assistant. Lawrence was an interesting individual who seemed to be quite concerned about everything that was regarding his employer. Almost questioningly so. Once Naomi and Lawrence had started walking up to Ezra’s hospital room, he had started asking her about her relationship with the Hewitt brothers. The questions themselves didn’t sound rather intrusive at the time, but the look in his eyes made her wonder what he was thinking.

Was he concerned about Marc’s health or the man’s image to the public? With his position and the fact that he was the one who was often doing the press conferences for his company, Lawrence must have been drafting the next speech in his head. Naomi knew that the press would latch onto any kind of story that sold when it came to a public figure, and Marc was kind of a public figure.

Would it be better if they just remained friends? She had considered this option. They both had hectic schedules when it came to their work and he had a public image to maintain. She barely knew how to look like one of those models in a magazine that were usually hanging off the arm of someone like Marc.

As Naomi placed the water dish back on its place, she looked around for the cat before letting out a sigh.

She’d definitely have to think about it later. It was time to get ready for work.

*****

As soon as her shift ended, Naomi felt those familiar fluttery feelings in her chest again.

Standing in the staff changing room after the quickest shower that she ever had in her entire life, she kind of wondered if she should feel a little self-conscious about the dress Olivia decided to lend her for the night. It was a little more risqué than what she was comfortable with most of the time. After all, wearing scrubs ninety-nine percent of the time got her so used to wearing trousers that a dress, especially one that barely went down more than half her thigh, was madness.

When she asked whether she could borrow an outfit from her best friend, she had hoped that Olivia would at least respect her sense of conservation. Not to mention, she still had to walk out of the hospital like this. What would the rest of the staff think?

It was enough that Olivia had practically forced her to let her hair grow again, even going to the point where she had come over to her place the previous night with a tub of something that made her hair fall a little looser, a little less afro and more curls. Naomi wasn’t used to this. The curly stands tended to tickle her neck or her ears at the most unexpected times and it was almost as annoying as the stares she was getting all day.

Luckily for her, Marc hadn’t seen her yet since she had once again saved her visit to Ezra for last, making the man promise not to say anything to his brother since her date had apparently come by earlier in the day while she was in another part of the hospital.

She looked herself in the mirror against the wall, tugging at the hem of the dress in hopes that it would somehow at least reach her knees but to no avail. At least the dress itself didn’t call for any unnecessary attention. It was a simple black number with a standard V neckline that kind of gave off the illusion that her bre*sts were larger than they actually were, her back wasn’t too exposed with the cut out of the fabric covered with lace, and the sleeves weren’t just spaghetti stands, thank goodness, since it was the same lace fabric that came down her arms to the middle of her upper arm.

It was somehow both risqué and classy all in one. It just needed to be a little longer, she groaned internally.

Her cellphone dinged from her handbag, calling her attention from the mirror. She retrieved the device to see that it was a text from Marc.

            > I’ll be waiting for you in the reception area.

Just like that, the butterflies were back. She shoved her scrubs into a bag and stuffed them into Olivia’s locker – she promised to drop it off later – and quickly grabbed the lipstick that Olivia had given to her. It was a dark red, almost like a deep wine, color that she promised would go beautifully with the rest of the look.

Should she…? Naomi was never really into makeup either, but it was technically a special occasion, right? She opened the stick with a pop, twisting up the color. Her mother would probably be doing handstands at this. Her tomboyish baby girl was willing to wear makeup.

“I should do this in front of the mirror,” she mumbled to herself before returning her cell phone to her bag. “Yeah, that would be a smart idea after all.”

With a couple of careful swipes in front of the mirror, she just hoped that it looked enough because she wasn’t sure if it was her staring back when the red was finally on.

He would like this, right?

She took a deep breath and packed up her things, positioning her bag on her shoulder and taking one last look in the mirror to make sure she looked presentable.

“Let’s do this.”