There You'll Be Finance!Reader - 1 Summary: Jack Abbot has not dated a woman since his wife passed. He was perfectly fine waiting until her saw her again one day. Until one faithful day in a bookstore Pairings: Jack Abbot x Reader Warnings/Tags: Grief (death of a parent off discussed, death of a spouse discussed in detail), first relationship after death of a spouse (author has never lost a spouse so she's trying her best to imagine that pain), light smut (phone sex, "first" times), widower!jack, not a happy ending, medical inaccuries probably, timeline given but not super important Word Count: 8.4K Notes: She's here! Shoutout to everyone whose been awaiting patiently for the full fic (also promise me you'll still like me after this k thanks)
Finance!Reader Masterlist | Masterlist | A03
Glossary:
gora (gore-uh) - white man
Kaddu (kud-doo) - Pumpkin
Paneer (Puhn-ear) - Cheese
There's an indie bookstore near Jack's house that he visits sometimes on his days off. He's not the biggest reader, but his wife used to be and this was one of her favourite bookstores. He likes to roam the shelves, reminiscent of his arms full of her wishlist as she piled on more and more and dragging her out before she bought the whole store.
He's standing in the general fiction aisle, looking at one of the new releases from her favourite authors. He turns it over, reading the synopsis but unable to absorb the words — preoccupied by the fact that she should be standing in his place.
"Oh, I love her," he looks over at the voice that pulls him out of his reverie, clearing his throat as he takes in your appearance, "I actually came here to pick up that one. Have you read anything else from her?"
"Me? Um, no. Just sounded interesting," he hands you the book, "Here. I don't think I'll take it."
"Oh, if that one doesn't sound up your alley, there's this one," you reach over, a respectful distance away from him but close enough that he can smell the scent of your spicy perfume,
"Everyone I've recommended it to has enjoyed it. Some of her older stuff isn't as good but anything she writes is worth a read."
He owns that one. It's tucked away on his wife's old bookshelf, collecting dust with the rest of her library.
But he turns the book over anyways, pretends to read the back cover of it. It's then that you notice the glint of tungsten on his ring finger, the black band gleaming in the light of the window.
"Oh, I'm sorry," you say, stepping away from him, "I didn't see the ring until now. I'll leave, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"No, I-I'm not. I mean I was—" he sputters a moment, trying to find the right words without dumping all of his woes on you, "My wife passed a few years ago, I just, I still wear the ring."
You tilt your head and nod sympathetically, a motion that Jack has became far too familiar with over the past few years, "I'm sorry to hear that."
He waves his hand, "It's fine, life moves on. But this is is her favourite bookstore and her favourite author.."
"Oh, mine too, on both accounts. She had great taste," you throw him a wink and Jack is really hoping that the blush on his face isn't too noticeable.
And he's not entire sure why this moment feels…notable. He's doesn't know if he believes in an afterlife —he hopes that he'll see his wife again one day —so he's not 100% certain that this is a sign from her. But it seems like an awfully strange coincidence to be in one of her favourite spots in the city, talking about her favourite author with a girl who didn't run away when she found out he was a widow. Maybe it is her giving him a push to move on, or maybe he's finally ready to take that step himself.
He swallows, heart pounding in his chest.
"If this isn't too forward, there's a coffee shop down the street that has really good chocolate muffins if you're into that. Do you…would you be interested in splitting one with me?" It's been about 30 some odd years since he's last done this, he forgot how nerve-wracking it is to be this vulnerable.
"I'd love to," you beam at him, "I'm just gonna go pay for this and then we can walk over?"
"Yeah, yeah, go ahead. I have to make a call first. I'll meet you outside."
He barely succeeds in not bolting out of the store, dialing Robby's number before he's even reached the door.
"Everything good, brother?"
"I just asked out a girl."
"What?" Robby laughs, "That's great! What's her name?"
Fuck.
"It all happened so quickly I forgot to ask."
"Okay well, figure that out first while you're still in the appropriate window to ask. When are you seeing her next?"
"She's paying for her book and then we're going to get coffee."
"And you're calling me now?"
He stares at you chatting with the cashier through the window. Oh god, why did he do this?
"Rob, I feel like I'm going to throw up. This was a mistake. I'm not ready."
"Okay, okay, relax, brother, deep breaths. You asked her out for a reason. A year or two ago you wouldn't have even entertained the idea of going on a date. You don't need to marry this one, but maybe you're ready to dip your toes in the water."
He takes a deep breathe, trying slow his heart rate.
"You're right. You're right. What do I say? I haven't been on a first date since I was 15."
"First, you're going to ask for her name. Ask what she does for work and when she asks what you do, there's a very good chance she'll ask about the weirdest thing you've pulled out of a patient. If you're going to talk about work, try and figure out if she thinks spouting medical terminology is sexy or pretentious because it'll make your life easier. And pay for her coffee."
"Obviously I'm going to pay for her coffee, who do you think I am?"
Robby laughs, and Jack rubs a frustrated hand over his face, "Just try and have fun. If you hit it off, then great. If you don't, then oh well. You tried and that's good too."
You put the book in your bag and start walking to the door, smiling at him through the glass.
"Okay, thank you, brother, I gotta go. She's done now."
"And if things go really well, don't forget a condom. It would be so embarrassing if you got chlamydia at your age."
"You're saying that like I wasn't the one who wrote your very recent script for azithromycin."
Robby laughs, "And I'll be happy to return the favour if needed."
He stands up straighter when you open the door.
"Ready to go?"
"I am if you are."
You start walking down the street, and Jack's reminded of Robby's advice.
"Before I forget, what's your name?"
Jack ends up purchasing two of the coveted chocolate muffins because he's worried his sweet tooth will take over and you'll be left picking at crumbs.
"So what do you do?" he asks once they've found a spot.
"I work for a financial group in the city. Head of Finance"
Jack's eyebrow raises, "I have to say I didn't expect you to say that."
You laugh. It's nice out today and you're wearing a cute sundress with a matching ribbon holding your hair back. It's unbelievably charming.
"Of course, I dress more professionally for work. Everyone's afraid of me there."
"You? I just had to ask them to remake your tea because they used the wrong milk and you didn't want to inconvenience the barista."
"I've had a shit ton of shitty minimum wage jobs, the last thing I wanna do is be an entitled customer. But I swear I'm terrifying in the office."
He takes a bite of his muffin, desperately hoping no crumbs stick to the corner of his lips, "I'll have to come and see for myself."
"Depending on how the rest of this date goes, I might let you," you take a sip of your tea and Jack watches your expression to see if they've actually used the right milk this time, "So, what about you?"
"I'm a doctor—"
He pauses. Does he mention that he's in emergency now? Do you care? When does he cross the line into over sharing. Fuck, why is this so hard?
"Oh no shit? Which hospital? My baby sister's a nurse over at PTMC."
Jack laughs, "Small world, that's where I am. What specialty?"
"Labour and Delivery."
"Ah, I'm down in the Emergency Department but there's a solid chance we've crossed paths."
"So, when we're done here and I ask my sister about about Dr. Abbot in the Emergency Department, am I going to hear any sordid rumours?"
"I hope not," he chuckles, "Lots of us down there have a reputation for breaking rules but not for my L&D patients. I try to get them up there as fast as humanly possible."
"Good to know."
At the end of the date, you ask for his number, and he hesitates. He recalls how Robby said that this doesn't have to be serious, but mulls it over quickly in his head. He had a good time and, yeah, maybe it'll fizzle out, but he's kind of excited to see what happens.
"Hey, man, how was the date?" Robby's voice sounds through the speakers in Jack's truck, "Did you throw up? Or is this a pep talk before you go back to her place?"
"Neither. It was good, I had a nice time and I think she did too because we were there for a few hours."
"That's good, man. Did you get her number?"
"Yeah. I kinda had a moment where I felt like I was cheating on Lucille, but I've got a session with my therapist in a few days so I'll bring it up then."
"That's good!" he can hear Robby puttering around his house, "I'm happy for you, man. Really."
"Oh, you know that little spitfire L&D nurse that started a while ago? The really short one with the two-toned hair?"
"Know her? I have still have nightmares from the time she yelled at me in front of my med students."
"That's her sister."
Robby laughs, "If they're anything alike, then you're in for a wild ride, buddy."
[1 month after inital meeting]
Your second date with Jack goes equally as well. He figures by your job and your nice clothes that you’d probably appreciate a fancy dinner. There’s a new Italian place that opened up that some of his younger nurses have been lamenting about not being able to try because of the price. He asks them if that’d be a good date spot and proceeds to spend the rest of the shift trying —and failing—to avoid their questions.
(“Dr Abbot, if I knew you were ready to date, I would have set you up with my mom.”
“Your mom? Jesus, kid how young are you?”
“Young enough to be your daughter.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, “And you’re a fully licensed RN? I think it’s time for me to retire.”)
With both of your busy schedules, it's hard to coordinate dates, so you're communicating mostly though text messages (which Robby teases him about). But it feels good to send you a good morning text when he's doing shift change, and to call you as you get ready for the day while he heads home.
It’s the third official date that he’s nervous about.
He wasn't initially. At least, not until he made the mistake of talking to Robby about it.
“A third date,” Robby wiggles his eyebrows, “That’s a big one.”
Jack rolls his eyes, “That’s not a real thing, is it?”
“She invited you over for a home-cooked meal,” the other man shrugs, “Definitely feels like sex is on the table. So, you gonna have sex with her on the table?”
Honestly? Jack is nauseous at the thought. He’s been genuinely enjoying his time with you, but he is not ready for anything sexual. He’d kissed you before he dropped you off at your apartment after your last date, and it’d ended up in him feeling a weird mix of excitement and guilt.
But he does like you and it’s hard to schedule around both of your very hectic jobs, so he can’t cancel. He’s just going to cross that bridge when he gets there.
Maybe he's getting ahead of himself. Maybe you don’t even believe in the third date rule.
But after a lovely dinner that you’d cooked and a generous slice of cake from Jack’s favourite dessert place that he brought, he’s sitting on your couch as you press your lips to his.
It’s nice, really nice. He has missed this; the intimacy and closeness of another person. He even lets you push him down. He tangles his fingers in your hair, enjoying the pressure of your weight on top of him and the feel of your legs straddling his torso.
He’s enjoying it, feels like a teenager again making out in the backseat of his dad’s truck before he has to get you back before curfew. You let out a delicious little mewl when he nips at your bottom lip.
You take it as a sign to toy with bottom button of his shirt, long manicured fingernails poking at the course hairs on his lower stomach.
He freezes, body going completely stiff under you.
“Jack? Are you okay?” you pull back, brows furrowed in concern.
“Yeah, just— your hand’s cold.”
A lie and you both know it, “It’s fine. It’s just been a while. I’m okay.”
“Jack, I didn’t invite you over to have my wicked way with you. I know you want to go slow. We can stop now if you're uncomfortable.”
He flushes, “I don’t want you to think that I’m not interested in you, or…”
“Or that you’re less of a man for not wanting sex?”
He wasn’t gonna phrase it like that. But yeah.
Your gaze soften when he doesn’t answer, “Jack, I really like you, and I understand that we’ll be moving slow. I mean it. I’m not some frat boy that’s gonna make you fuck me because I made you dinner or an insecure sorority girl that cries cause you’re not into it.”
“A-are you sure? Cause really it’s—“
You cut him off with a kiss, softly pressing your lips to his, “Trust me, Jack. I don’t have a lot of free time and I wouldn’t waste it on you if I didn’t think there’s something here.”
Jack laughs, relief flooding through him, “In that case. There’s something I should tell you now. Get up for a second.”
You’d been sitting on his lap during this conversation. You scoot off him, sitting next to him as he starts rolling up his pant leg.
“Feels like now’s a good time to give you an out. I lost my leg in an IED explosion during my last tour. It’s the same reason I can’t hear out of my left ear and why sometimes my hands shake.”
He’s mentioned he was a vet on your coffee date and you’d noticed the tremor every time he’d set his cup down. You figured the two were probably related but didn’t pry any further.
“With that plus the widow thing, I’ve got a lot of baggage. I won't judge you if you want to run for the hills screaming now.”
“Jack, I just finished telling you that I want to be with you.”
“That was before I dumped a whole extra load of things on you. It wouldn’t surprise me if that changed things.”
You huff, pushing him to lie back on the couch.
"Well, it doesn't bother me, so get used to it," you mumble, flopping yourself on top of him to dig your nose into his chest.
He’s still not ready to sleep with you, but he does appreciate the weight of your body against his as he scrolls through the Netflix menu on your TV trying to find something you’ll both enjoy.
[2 months after inital meeting]
He's getting ready to start his shift, staring up at the board to plan his next steps when a tap at his shoulder gets his attention.
When he turns, he has to look down to meet the gaze of the very short, very angry-looking young woman. The L&D nurses scrubs in combination with the fact that her hair was bright purple on one side and black on the other tells him this is your sister. She shares your dark skin and your eyes, but past that, he’s not sure he’d be able to see the relation.
“Can I help you? I wasn’t informed of any labouring mothers right now,” he asks politely. He has no idea if this is business or personal.
“How long have you been fucking my sister?”
Ah, so personal then.
“We’re not ‘fucking’,” he uses air quotes, “I’m dating your sister.”
“My sister doesn’t date,” she snaps. She might be short, but damn if he doesn’t feel a little intimidated right now, “Which is why I was surprised when we had dinner the other day, and she asks me about Dr. Abbot in the ED.”
“Yeah? Did you tell her about how I’m real good at catching preeclampsia, and I can sniff out an ectopic from a mile away?”
“I told her about how you flirt with all the pregnant ladies.”
He chuckles, “It’s not flirting. I’m just a charming guy.”
“Did you know she wants us all to have dinner together this weekend?”
“Divya, I like your sister and I want things between us to work out.”
She freezes, “You know my name?”
“Of course I do. All she ever talks about is her baby sister and how proud she is of you. I even know you did your honours research paper on the racial discrepancy in death rates of pregnant women of colour. I was hoping to have read it before I actually got to meet you.”
She looks taken aback for a brief moment before her gaze hardens again, “Okay, white man, I’ll play nice at dinner but that doesn’t mean I like you yet. You’re old enough to be my dad.”
“Your dad, not her dad.”
Not to say that the age gap between you and Jack was small. Technically Jack could have been a teen dad when you were born, but he’d feel real icky if he dated someone Divya's age. That is a child.
Dinner with Divya goes surprisingly well. He’s actually surprised by how cordial Divya is. He picks you two up from your apartment before driving over to the Indian restaurant that you’d picked out.
Jack feels a bit overdressed for the occasion. It’s a small space, and the hostess knows you and your sister by name. You’re dressed nice, but definitely more casually than he’s used to seeing you while your sister is in a matching track suit. Jack is in a dress shirt and slacks. He watches as you converse with the waiter in Hindi, ordering food for the table.
You’d given him the rundown of the important information. Your parents had passed in a car wreck during your first few years of undergrad, meaning you had taken care of your kid sister alone. It had resulted in you taking an extra 2 years on your undergrad, but you didn’t regret it for a second.
It also means that Jack has to try and impress a feisty 20-year old.
She doesn’t try to suppress her giggle as Jack squints at the menu, “Don’t you have glasses, Dr. Abbot? I swear I’ve seen you wear them when I’ve been down in the ED.”
“I told you, it’s just Jack here. And I do, but I don’t wear them all the time.”
“You have glasses?” you ask tilting your head, “How come I’ve never seen them?”
Jack blushes a bit, something that happens embarrassingly often when he’s around you.
“Awww, is the old man embarrassed he needs reading glasses.”
You reach over and swat at her arm, “Be nice.”
“It’s okay,” Jack says, “It comes with the territory of being over 40.”
“So how often do you two deal with each other then?”
“Whenever expectant mothers come in over 20 weeks they have to go up no whether they’re in labour or not,” that is a policy Jack doesn’t really try to bend. His obstetrics rotation in med school baffled him.
“Thanks for the broken leg the other day,” she rolls her eyes but she’s smiling, “You guys 100% could have dealt with that.”
“Twenty weeks, she goes up. Not my policy.”
“Literally one day past twenty weeks. I only came down to get her because I thought Dr. Robby was on shift. He single?”
Jack chokes on his water, “Robby is old enough to be your dad.”
You look at your sister, a little surprised, “Since when do you like boys? You’ve never brought one home before; all of a sudden you're asking if one is single?”
“I don’t like boys. Dr. Robby is a man. He’s got that super sexy salt and pepper beard.”
“Salt and pepper?” your jaw is agape as you turn to Jack, “she’s not usually like this, I swear.”
“So what do you say, Abbot, gonna give me his number or not?”
Jack laughs at that. He appreciates the tenacity. He kinda wishes she worked in the ED now.
“Absolutely not!” you look at her, “You’re four. What business do you have dating a 50-year old man?”
“Who said anything about dating?”
Jack can’t breathe with how hard he’s laughing now.
“If you give her his number, I will break up with you.”
Divya's head whips around to glare at her sister, “Then why the hell am I here?”
“To meet my boyfriend and be a supportive sister?”
Jack wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, “Robby’s stepson is only a couple years younger than her. I doubt he’d say yes anyway, but I wasn’t planning on it.”
“We are not done with this conversation,” you say as you lock eyes with the waiter bringing your food, “We will finish this discussion later.”
She puts her hands up in surrender and starts to load up her plate. Jack follows suite. The two of you start to dig in with your hands and Jack briefly wonders if he should do the same. He doesn’t want to look like a fool but also it’s eating; surely it’s not that difficult?
Turns out, the eating part isn’t hard, but tolerating the spice level is. He’d let you girls pick for him; you’d clearly known the menu and he wasn’t picky.
After he swallows the first bite, it kicks in. He's fine at first, but as he scoops the second piece into his mouth, his throat burns. His nose is starting to run, his ears are getting warmer— he knows his face must be red by now.
He tries to reach for his water slyly, but you catch him, looking at him sympathetically as you hand him your cup. Gracious as you are, he sees the remnants of a small smirk you're so desperately trying to stop from showing.
“Sorry, she made me do it. She wanted to see if you could handle the spice. Here, water will make it worse.”
Whatever is in the cup is cold and creamy. It soothes the burn as it slides down his throat.
“Here,” Divya says, pointing to the plate with orange on it, “This is kaddu, it’s pumpkin curry. It’s on the sweeter side.”
He shakes his head, “No it’s fine. I can handle spice, I just wasn’t expecting it.”
God, he’s already embarrassed himself. He just has to soldier onward. Jack has always been able to handle his spice; he can slam back a plate of hot wings with the best of them, but this is different. He can feel a ringing in his ears. But if this is your little sister's test, then he’s gonna muscle his way through it.
He knows his face is giving him away, but he tries to keep his features neutral as he shovels handful after handful into his mouth until his plate is clean.
“Okay, gora,” your sister laughs, “I’m impressed.”
He coughs, ears still burning, “Did I pass your test?”
“With flying colours.”
Jack pulls up to your apartment building, leaning in for a kiss over the centre console.
“You wanna come up with us?” You ask, “We’re gonna watch some movies if you want to join.”
“I promise I won’t go through your phone and steal Dr. Robby’s number when you fall asleep in the first 15 minutes,” your sister says from the backseat, with a smile doesn't convey whether she's joking or not.
“I didn’t think you would until you said that,”he chuckles, “I’d love to, honey, but I don’t think my stomach can last the whole movie.
You giggle, “Okay, gora, you go home and recover.”
He says goodbye, calling out to your sister before you head towards your building, "If they ever try floating you down to us while I'm on shift, let them."
Divya snorts, "Absolutely not. Literally half the reason I chose L&D was because I hate men. Dealing with husbands is more than enough for me. If I never have place another male catheter ever again, it'll be too soon."
[4 months after initial meeting]
Jack’s off today, so he ends up on your side of the city with flowers, hoping to catch you on your lunch break.
Your office building is bougie, as Ellis has taught him. An open concept main floor with a few desks throughout belonging to youthful, but worried, faces. There’s floor to ceiling windows and a board with words that mean nothing to Jack.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, smiling when you see him. You walk over to him, heels clacking on the ground.
“I was hoping I’d be able to steal you away for lunch,” he says, handing you the flowers, “I realized at the shop I never actually asked you what your favourite flowers are, so I hope these are to your liking.”
“Oh Jack, they’re perfect! I don’t really have a favourite flower.” You beam at him, a distinct change in attitude from when he walked in, hooking your arm around his shoulders and kissing him softly.
“Roses are too typical,” and he found himself pulling his gaze from every orchid on the store, still reminded of how often he used to by them for the windowsill for Lucille, “But I remembered your favourite colour.”
You smile, bringing the bouquet up for a sniff. You pull it back, inspecting each of individual flowers.
“Oh, all of them are safe for cats, I made sure to ask.”
You look at him, brow raised in shock, “you did?”
“Now why would I want anything to happen to Paneer?”
“I’d jump your bones right here in front of everyone if you’d let me, Jack Abbot.”
“For remembering your favourite colour and the fact that you have a cat?” he shakes his head, following you as you start down the hall.
“The prospects are bleak, Jack. It was basically hookups only when I met you because I was done dealing with man babies.”
“Hookups only? And you asked me out.”
You turn left and there’s a young man sitting at a desk who visibly stiffens when you enter the room.
“Paul, I need a vase for these, and I’m taking my lunch now. Hold my calls”
Paul nods his head quickly, “Yes ma'am, right away."
Jack watches amused as Paul scampers away with the flowers in hand, "He looks like a good kid, you could probably give his leash more slack."
"He is a good kid. It's tough love, baby," You laugh, gathering your things, "Actually, baby, before we go, can you look at my ankle?"
"What's wrong?" he sits down on your couch as you put your leg in his lap. He's not gonna lie, the sight of your pedicured toes in those sexy heels that emphasize your legs perched in his lap makes the blood rush to his dick just a little bit. He sucks in a breath, trying to quell down the guilt.
"It's just kind of sore," you say, "I asked Divya about it the other day, but I thought I'd get a second opinion."
He lifts your foot up, undoing the buckle and letting the expensive red bottomed shoe fall to the ground. His fingers slide over your soft skin as he does his physical assessment. You watch as his freckled hands gently handle your foot. It's resting on his inner thigh. His breath hitches as you push down ever so slightly, letting him bear your weight.
He clears his throat, "Looks good to me. Maybe they hurt because of the 6-inch heels?"
"You can tear those off my cold dead body, Abbot."
"Trust me, doll, I wouldn't dream of it."
[4 and 2 weeks after inital meeting]
"So," you start as you look across the table at Jack after finishing the delicious meal he made, "Have we been dating long enough that I can ask about…your wife now?"
"Lucille," Jack supplies for you, unsure if he's actually told you her name before, "What do you want to know?"
"What was she like? How did you meet? How long were you married?" How did she die, "Whatever you want to tell me about her."
Jack smiles thinking back to the first time he saw Lucille and was so completely awestruck by her beauty, "Oh, we were high school sweethearts. The first time I saw her was in math class, and she was so pretty, it took me the entire semester to work up the courage to talk to her."
You smile, "Did she have brown hair? There's a J. Cole song about meeting a girl in math class."
"Who?"
You shake your head, "Sorry, I forgot you don't listen to music from this century. He's a rapper, grandpa."
"Well, she was blonde anyways," he chuckles, "I didn't end up asking her out until we had chem together and we were lab partners. And then we did the whole prom thing, going to the same college thing. I was in the army then, but because I was in med school and I didn't have to ship out right away, we got married as soon as we both had our degrees, before I went to med school."
"What did she study?"
"Art history. Got her PhD and everything. She was a professor," Jack's own degree was in biological sciences, he remembers teasing her about their wildly differing studies while he was cramming for his cell biology final and she was writing her anthropology term paper, "I used to listen to her talk about the Victorian era for hours. I still can't watch period piece movies because they remind me too much of her."
"Oh? I kind of assumed that she was also a 'sciency' type."
Jack laughs, "Absolutely not. The only reason she made it through high school physics was because we sat together during exams. She was so happy when we graduated, and she never had to take another science class again if she didn't want to."
You mock gasp, "Jack Abbot, you let girls steal your physics answers?"
"Only the pretty ones," he winks at you, "Would have let you do it too if you were there."
"Such a dog," you joke, swatting his arm lightly.
"But, yeah, when things got bad overseas, thoughts of Lucille were the only thing keeping me going when I had no gas left in the tank. I had to make it back for her. And when I lost my leg and was done serving, about a year or so later, she got diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia, which is generally seen as one of the worst forms of leukemia."
His eyes start to burn, and he has to clear his throat, "She responded to treatment at first; was in remission for a while. But when it came back, it tore through her in less than a year."
He wipes the tear that rolls down his face, and you reach over to put your hand over his, which he accepts.
"We don't have to keep talking about this if you don't want to."
"No it's fine," he clears his throat again,"It happened quickly which was good and bad? She didn't suffer long, but there also wasn't a ton of time to say goodbye. But she was amazing, the sweetest woman I've ever met. Was cracking jokes until the day she passed. She made me promise that I'd eventually move on once she was gone and I told her I would, but inside I was pretty sure that was never going to happen until I saw you in the bookstore. It felt like it was her telling me it was okay."
You smile, "Yeah? You think she sent me to you?"
"Not— in a weird way. Like, a reminder that it was okay to move on because I haven't so much as looked at another woman before you."
"That's sweet," you say, bringing his hand up to your face and kissing his knuckles, "I wasn't looking to date either when I met you. I kind of accepted on a whim."
"I'm glad you did. But I do have one other thing I should mention."
"Hm?"
"When Lucille went into remission, her body was fragile. Pregnancy would have ruined her, so I got snipped. I also work a ton and I'm old. I know there are other options, but I don't want a kid so if that's a deal-breaker…"
You shake your head, "I gave up a lot of my youth to take care of Divya when our parents died. And I don't regret it for a second, but it was hard. I was twenty with a five-year old that wasn't even my kid, trying to keep us both off the streets. I've raised a strong young woman and she is my proudest achievement, but I have no desire to do that again."
Jack raises his wine glass, "To adults-only all-inclusive resorts."
"I'll drink to that," you clink your glasses together.
The call comes when he's pulling into his garage. The annoyance rolling off him in waves as he answers it.
"Hey, sweetheart," he mutters as he opens the door into his house, "How's the conference?"
You laugh on the side of the phone, the sound soothing the tension jaw, "You sound pissed. Was the draft a bust?"
Jack groans, "I taught Shen everything he knows, and as soon as he becomes an attending, he fucks me on draft order."
"You're a smart man, Jack. I'm sure you pulled together a good team."
"I got stuck with fucking Skinner as my goalie."
"There are worse options," you laugh, could have been been Merzlikins or Binnington."
"Yeah," he sighs dramatically, "Maybe I'll try and trick Jesse in a trade, he's more of a football guy. How's your night, doll?"
"Good," you say, yawning into the phone, "Conference was boring but a good networking opportunity. Got my name out to the bigwigs that I wanted to."
"That's good. Gonna buy me something nice when you take all their money?"
You laugh, "That's not how networking works, baby, but I'll buy you all the nice things anyways."
"I look forward to it," Jack chuckles, "You coming back in two days?"
"Yup. You still good to pick me up? If not, I can ask Divya or Uber."
"I'll be there, doll. Don't worry. What're your plans for the rest of the night?"
"I'm exhausted," you yawn again, "Once we hang up, I'm gonna masturbate and go to bed."
Jack stutters for a moment, "Did you—did you mean to say that?"
You laugh, "Yes, I did Jackie. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"I'm not…I'm not uncomfortable. I'm just not used to your…boldness."
His face is getting uncomfortably warm.
"It's not the 1950s anymore Jack, people talk about masturbation."
"I know that! I'm a doctor."
You giggle on the other end of the line, "You're so cute when you're flustered."
"I'm not flustered!"
He is. He always is around you.
"It's okay, I think it's cute, really."
He grumbles a little bit before starting up the stairs to his room.
"So," he coughs, "When we hang up, what are you going…to do to yourself?"
You mock gasp, "Are you propositioning me for phone sex, Jack Abbot?"
"Maybe."
"I don't have to hang up, we can get off together, Jackie," your voice changes, taking a deeper, more sultry tone, "If that's what you wanna do?"
"Yeah, doll, I do," his heart rate picks up, "Gimme a second to get comfortable first, though."
Your breathing is deeper by the time he's settled.
"You starting without me?"
"Mhm," you take a deep breath, "Takin too long, Jack."
"What are you wearing?"
You let out a little breathy laugh, "Really has been a while, hasn't it, Abbot?"
"What do you want me to say?" he huffs, a little defensive.
"You miss me, baby?" you ask.
"Of course I do," he responds, skirting a hand over the waistband of his sweats. At his age, with his heavy dosage of SSRIs, he's not sure he's going to be able to join you, but he's going to enjoy this call nonetheless.
"Mm," you hum, "What would you do if I were in your bed right now?"
"Complain about being stuck with Skinner as my goalie."
"Jack," you groan.
He laughs, "I'm sorry, I'm mad about it."
"I'm trying to get your mind off it," your tone shifts back into the gravely seductive tone you were using earlier, "Because if I were there, I'd get between your legs."
He sucks in a breathe, "Yeah?"
"Yeah, I'd get you hard under my hand, and then I'd tease you with my tongue. I'd take my time, make you get all tingly till you begged for me."
"I don't beg, doll."
"You will when I have my way with you," you're so confident in your words, "You touching yourself, Jackie?"
"Maybe."
"Forget about Skinner yet?"
He groans, rolling his eyes,"You killed it! You killed my boner."
"And then this ugly motherfucker has the audacity to ask me for nudes when I've been talking to him for 4 fucking seconds!"
Jack is trying not to laugh because the situation itself isn't funny, but the passion at which Divya is currently screaming in the middle of your kitchen makes him crack a smile. Until she turns her gaze to him and he feels genuinely intimidated, "Stop laughing. Your kind is the worst."
"Is this a white people thing or a man thing," he pauses, "Either way, I'm sorry."
"Both!"
You, however, are rejoicing in your little sister's misery, "I told you to delete that app."
"Where the fuck am I supposed to find someone then? Work, home, work, home. L&D is 90% women and 10% gay men."
"We are a teaching hospital. Surely there are single med students around," he laughs.
"Okay, I know, I know, they're learning, that's the whole point! But med students manage to fuck up the simplest tasks. Tell me how one of the newbies managed to mix up my stillborn mom with another one and made her believe her baby was dead. Really hard to sexualize someone after a fuck up like that."
Yeah, he remembers those days. It's a rough time for everyone.
"Pick up a shift down in the trenches with us," Jack jokes, "Half the staff is single. And no, I will not set you up with Robby."
"Then you're useless to me."
[6 months after inital meetin]
Since your little phone tryst, Jack's been more open to the physical side of the relationship. He likes when you hop up in his lap and grind down on him until you cum despite the multiple layers of fabric between you two. He likes way you pant into his mouth when he flips you onto your back and keeps rutting into you. He especially likes how your nails dig into his skin, trying to pull him closer as he works your body through another orgasm.
"Think you wanna stay over tonight?" Jack asks, kissing your jaw as you catch your breath.
"Stay over or like, stay over?" you ask, raising an inquisitive brow.
"You willing to be patient with me, doll? It's been a few years."
"Of course I am, baby."
He's on his bed, chest heaving as you crawl on top of him. You keep eye contact with him as you settle into his lap, tipping his head up as you press your lips to his. You tangle your hands in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. He can't help but moan and lean into your touch. He grips your waist, fingers flexing into the soft skin, teasing as the sliver of exposed skin where your shirt is riding up.
"Wanna touch me, baby?" You ask as you grip his wrist and start to slide it up your body.
He nods, taking your invitation to keep going until the shirt is up and over your head. He kisses you again before he looses the nerve. He reaches up, toying with the band of your bra.
Fuck, how does he do this again? He never was very good at it.
You sense his frustration, pulling away with a small laugh.
"Need help there, old man? I thought you said you've done this before."
His face gets hot as he mutters, "I told you it's been a few years."
You smile at him, reaching behind you, your hands guiding his as you pull the clasp together, feeling the hooks release before letting the garment fall.
This is it. You're officially the first woman he's seen naked since Lucille.
"You okay, Jack, wanna stop?"
He shakes his head, "No, doll. I want this, I want you."
A few weeks later, Jack is pulling into the PTMC parking lot.
Doll ♥️: Hope you have a good shift baby Doll ♥️: Quick question before you start though, are you SURE they did the vasectomy right? And, is it too soon to take a pregnancy test?
Jack smiles at his phone, now used to your random health spirals.
Jack: Watched them snip my vas difference myself, doll. Nothing is making it through anymore. Jack: I promise you're not pregnant but I can bring you some emergency contraceptives if it will bring you piece of mind. Jack: Or we can use condoms
The next text comes immediately.
Doll ♥️: No condoms Doll ♥️: If it's not to much trouble I'd like that
Jack: You're never too much trouble for me.
[8 months after inital meeting]
"Hi, Robby! Nice to meet you," you say, voice a little too excited as the taller man stands next to the table , "I've heard so much about you!"
He smiles, creases around his eyes deepening as he does. He gives Jack a small gift bag, "Jack doesn't shut up about you either. I'm sorry I had to push this a few times, works been…work. If you'll excuse me just one more moment, I've just gotta run to the bathroom real quick. Don't open that till I get back."
As soon as Robby's out of earshot, Jack looks at you.
"I know you're excited, but you have to calm all the way down."
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," you're practically buzzing out of your seat, "But Divya doesn't talk about guys she likes at all. This is literally the only one I know that she's got a crush on, I don't know how to be normal about it. I've never had to be."
"Okay, well, he's my friend, not just the guy your baby sister has a crush on," he kisses the top of your head.
"I know that, obviously," you say, swatting his arm, "But a girl can have two motives in mind."
Robby returns shortly afterwards.
"Happy birthday, brother," he says, tipping his head towards the bag, "probably not as good as what you've been getting him."
You didn't realize Jack had told Robby about your week of gifts. It's something you'd started for Divya when you made more money, a way to make up for years of shitty grocery store cake and knock-off gifts. You'd been excited as you watched Jack open up a new box every day, the final gift currently resting on his wrist: a brand new watch to replace the one that he'd had for years that was slowly reaching the end of his its lifespan. He has no idea how much you spent on it, but he loves it and makes sure to keep it clean when he wears it at work.
And also sex. He forgot how much he loved sex.
"Yeah, me and my sister kind of go overboard on birthdays. We weren't always able to do it so we like to make a spectacle of it now."
"Oh the little scary one, with the purple hair? I know her."
You laugh, you can't help it, "She scares you?"
"I mean this as a compliment," he puts a hand up in surrender, "She's a little bulldog. Which is good, she advocates for her patients and tells off my residents if they've done something they shouldn't have. And again, that's a good thing, but I'd be lying if I didn't say everyone holds her breath when she walks through the floor."
You wipe a mock tear, one that might turn into a real one if you don't change the subject, "Ugh, I'm so proud."
Jack's heart is hammering in his chest. He doesn't know why, but standing next to you just a few feet in front of Lucille's headstone is…terrifying.
"Hey, Lucy," he says, trying to keep his voice even. He makes sure that he visits her at least twice a month, sometimes more when he misses her. You had brought up coming with him last time he'd gone, and when he showed up to pick you up from your apartment, you'd shown up with a fresh orchid to match the one he brings each time, "I, uh, brought a friend with me this time."
"Hi, Lucille," you respond, "I hope you don't mind my being here. I know you said you wanted him to move on, but it's always a little awkward when it actually happens, so I brought this flower. Jack never told me your favourite colour, so I guessed."
"Her favourite colour was green," Jack says as you set the flower down, "Her favourite orchids were pink."
"I'll keep that in mind. What do you usually talk to her about?"
He shrugs, "Whatever's on my mind. Sometimes work stuff, sometimes recent releases I think she would have liked. I watched that Bridgerton show because she would have loved it— hated the costuming, but she always was a sucker for a good romance plot."
You grin, "Sounds like you two were a good match. Well, Lucille if you like romance, you would love that rom-coms are making a comeback now. Unfortunately, none are as good as the ones from the early two thousands."
"Yeah that one with Captain America and the Mandelorian was terrible."
"Right? How do you have Pedro Pascal and Chris Evans as love interests and I still want the main girl to end up single because everyone sucks?"
Jack's holding your hand over the gear shift on the way home.
"Jack, out of curiosity, do you think you'll ever take off the ring?"
Jack is taken aback. He knew this conversation would come up eventually, he just wasn't expecting it now. He keeps his eyes on the road.
"I'm not sure I can, doll."
You nod, unsure of what to say. The car is quiet.
"I'm not— I don't want to make it seem like I want you to take it off now or something. I just, I'm thinking realistically.""
"I'd think about adding another band, when the time is right. Forever means something to me. I meant it the first time and I'll mean it again when the time comes."
"Really?" you ask, gripping his hand tighter.
"Really."
"He's here? Right now? And you didn't fucking tell me," Divya whisper-yells as she looks between you and Jack frantically.
"I didn't know he was going to be here tonight, I swear."
Both sisters snap their gaze towards Jack and he lets out the laugh he's been holding back.
"I'm sorry," he shakes his head, still smiling, "I knew you wouldn't have come if I said Robby would be here. And you talk big shit about stealing his number out of my phone, so now's your chance."
"He's joking," you say quickly, "You are not allowed to sleep with a fifty-year old man."
"You are!"
"I'm in my thirties, that's different."
"I am forty-nine!" Jack says indignantly.
Divya stares at him for a second.
"I'm gonna beat your ass with your prosthetic leg, old man."
"What the hell did I just walk in on?" Robby asks as he enters Jack's kitchen where the rest of you are gathered, "She talk to you like this all the time? Blink twice if you need help, brother."
Divya stands up straighter. Jack doesn't miss the way her eyes trace over Robby's tall form.
"He's fine. Besides, outside the hospital, he's practically my big brother. Ass beatings are fair game now."
Big brother? Yeah, Jack likes the way that makes him feel.
The thing about grief is that recovery isn't linear.
He's discussed this in depth with his therapist many times. It was a lot more frustrating then. He'd have a good day, maybe a good week even, and then he'd get a whiff of Lucille's perfume at the grocery store and he'd end up in his car trying, and usually failing, to stave off a panic attack.
In theory, he knows this. But when it's actively happening, it's difficult to remember.
He wakes up one day in your apartment, the wall is the same colour as his at home. But when he turns over and he's met with dark skin and inky curly hair instead of the pale skin and straight blonde hair that he's used to with Lucille, he shoots up in bed. He manages to get back in his car, slamming the door shut before he's a blubbering mess behind the wheel.
And then? And then he just ruins it.
When you wake some time later, you blow up his phone. Calls, texts, voicemails. Jack just shuts it off and leaves it on the kitchen counter before turning the bathroom shower on and collapsing into a pile on the floor.
Eventually, the calls from you morph into calls from Robby. He swallows, staring at Robby's contact photo on his screen.
"Hello?"
"Jack? Are you okay? You've been worrying us. Where are you?"
"Home," he says.
"What happened? You just left? Are you okay?"
Jack breaks.
"I can't do it. I can't," he lets out a weak sob, "I can't do this to Lucille."
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