Blurred Lines

Clair sat at the dining table, admiring the shadows on the walls, cast by the warm glow from the overhead light. The air in the kitchen was filled with a rich blend of aromas—lemongrass, coconut milk, and the unmissable jab of chili. The "feast" on the table in front of her was in stark contrast to anything she had ever prepared or had delivered to her home. It was a beautifully arranged spread of Thai dishes in clean white containers, each dish vibrant with rich colors and aromas.

On offer was a steaming hot bowl of Tom Kha Gai, the creamy coconut soup swirled with red chili oil and garnished with fresh cilantro. Beside it sat a plate of Pad Thai, its golden noodles in a love embrace with plump shrimp, crushed peanuts, and a wedge of lime waiting to be squeezed over the top. But she could clearly hear her name from the spicy basil chicken stir-fry, it was literally calling out to her, and she'd definitely answer—the aroma of garlic, Thai basil, and seared chilies was practically making her drool.

Apparently Brad wasn't one for "small" gestures, She thought to herself. She should have guessed that from the size of the bouquet he sent the other day and now this. Well, at least she wouldn't have to cook dinner tonight.

Across the table from her, Clarissa sat perched on her booster seat, she scrunched her tiny nose as she eyed the food suspiciously. Small wild brown curls ran out of her pink headband, and a cute round face covered in funny expressions that Clair had to bite back a smile. 

Clarissa poked at the Pad Thai with her fork, turning her head side to side like a cute little puppy. "Mummy,… this food looks weird", at just five years of age, she already had a way with words apparently.

"Here, look." Clair chuckled and took in a spoonful of the fragrant coconut soup to her mouth, making a show of chewing and then approval, "See? It's not weird, it's delicious. It's Thai food" 

Clarissa wasn't convinced. "Did you make it?" 

Clair hesitated before answering. She shouldn't feel guilty, but she did. 

"No, baby girl," she admitted. "Someone sent it to us." 

Still poking at the food, "Who sent it?" Clarissa asked, her brown eyes glistening with curiosity.

Clair toyed with her spoon, racking her brain for an answer that wouldn't lead to a grand inquisition from a 5-year old. 

"Just a friend." 

Clarissa looked at her mother who almost visibly braced herself, then she shrugged and accepted the answer— thankfully children could be easy that way "sometimes". 

Clarissa carefully picked up a small noodle between her fingers, studied it closely, then slowly placed it in her mouth. A second later, she gasped, sucking in air, through her open mouth, while frantically waving her tiny hands in the air. 

Reaching hastily for her glass of water, "mummy it's spicy!" she squealed, as she gulped down half the glass of water.

"Don't drink too fast sweetie" Clair managed to let out, while trying to hold back her laughter. 

"Mummy, my mouth is on fire" she said, dramatically, still fanning her hands at her tongue. 

"But it's not even that spicy," Clair said, though the basil chicken she was currently eating definitely had a small kick, a baby kick at best. "Here, have some milk," she said, pouring half a glass for her daughter.

Clarissa drank the milk and shook her head rigorously. "Yes, it is! It's—" She paused, flashing a scanty toothed but cute smile, her big brown eyes lighting up in plea. "Mummy… can I have mac and cheese instead?*" 

Clair sighed and shook her head. "No, you had Mac and cheese yesterday, aaaand the day before." 

"But I can't eat this, plus Mac and cheese is my favorite" Clarissa pouted, holding up her face in her little hands. "And I ate, like, three whole vegetables today!" she added, putting up 3 tiny fingers for emphasis.

Clair opened her mouth in mock shock. "woow, you ate three?" 

Clarissa nodded in serious affirmation. "The tiny carrot in my soup, the little green speck in my rice, and one tiny piece of broccoli at school." she declared, while counting down each vegetable on her fingers. "That's a lot of vegetables mummy". 

Clair couldn't help but laugh. "Fine. Mac and cheese it is." 

"Yaaay!" Clarissa threw arms up in victory and bounced in her seat.

As Clair stood up to prepare her daughter's second dinner of the night, she found herself glancing longingly at the hot beautiful meal still sitting untouched on her plate. 

She had always been one for letting people get in their indulgences, but this... 

This was heading towards more than an indulgence, she really shouldn't be in her feelings about Brad and his "grand" gestures. Matter of fact she shouldn't be entertaining any gestures at all, much less indulging.

Next time she saw him, she would tell him outright to stop…if there was a God, then hopefully there wouldn't even be a next time and this would be the last of him she saw.

But as she stood in front of the kitchen counter listening to Clarissa humming a happy little tune while waiting for her Mac and cheese, Clair couldn't keep down the nagging thoughts creeping their way into the corners of her mind. 

Her phone buzzed. 

A message from a number she didn't recognize; 

Hope that was spicy enough for you?

"Damnit!" She muttered under her breath. It was Brad. Guess that means there would be no answer to her prayer, at least not tonight. How did he even get her number, she thought? Oh, right, the delivery order.

Clair sighed, running her thumb along the edge of her screen. She could just not reply, stay true to her decision and end this. This was as good a time as any. 

Clair: Thanks a lot, the food was great. And yes, there was just the right amount of spice. 

A pause. Then— 

He replied; awesome, that's the kind of review I like to get. I was beginning to doubt my culinary judgment.

She exhaled through her teeth, shaking her head and trying not to smile like a schoolgirl. There he goes again, slipping past her defences when she least expected it.

She put her phone down and tried to focus on her daughter's dinner. But there was still that

dangerous thrill of knowing someone wanted her and was thinking about her.

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It's been 2 weeks since the Thai delivery feast, and Clair had not seen Brad again — she should be happy about that, but for some reason she wasn't — except for the occasional message telling her that he'd left "somethings" for her with Sarah.

Great, he was already on a first-name basis with her closest friend at the hospital. 

As for the "somethings", twice he sent chocolate truffles, which she both times reluctantly shared with Sarah — she wasn't bringing anything "Brad" home anymore. And twice he sent pizza…somehow he'd figured out she liked to eat. And each time there was a note, never the same and never using his name. On one of them he signed, "Your Thai Prince", she couldn't help but laugh when she read that one.

And for some reason, the nurses were not left out, he had twice sent a basket of baked goods for the nurses, who apparently were all in love with him, both old and young. But Sarah never let any of them know about the personal gifts to ward off any gossip. She was loyal that way, her Sarah.

"You've really got an admirer," Sarah teased Clair once, as she unwrapped the most recent box of truffles.

"It's just a long thank-you," Clair murmured, but even she knew it was a weak attempt at an excuse. 

Sarah grinned. "Yup, sure. Maybe he'll decide to "thank you" with a diamond necklace one of these days. Better be careful baby girl, these men can be sneaky."

Clair rolled her eyes, "oh come off it, you're just overreacting."

She kept telling herself it meant nothing and she wasn't expecting anything. 

And yet, the mornings when she actually got nothing, she did feel something. 

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There was barely anybody in the hospital cafeteria when Clair stepped inside with a rumbling stomach to get something to eat. She quickly grabbed a tray and made her way to the counter where she selected a light salad and a bottle of iced tea before heading toward an empty table by the window, this should tide her over till dinner she thought.

She had barely sat down for 2 minutes when she heard his voice. 

"We have to stop meeting like this." 

She nearly choked on an artichoke. Turning around she saw Brad leaning casually on a table behind her, with his arms crossed over his chest, a playful smile running across his lips. 

As always, he looked effortlessly put together in fitted black slacks topped with a crisp white shirt with rolled-up sleeves revealing an exquisite-looking pair of tanned forearms. 

She managed to swallow and exhaled through her teeth.

"You again?" she said, arching a brow.

"How the fuck did you find me here, how did you even get in here?"

"Well, excuse your French," he replied with a chuckle, "but I own half of this establishment now. I think fate has plans for us we don't know about."

"Mind if I sit?" He asked, stepping closer to stand beside her.

Clair hesitated. She was tempted to say no, then get up and walk away. But the temptation to say yes and enjoy his company was stronger.

She gestured to the chair across from her, "Apparently it's half of your establishment now."

"How did you know where to find me?"

"Sarah", he replied as he slid into the seat, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement as he leaned in closer to her.

"Damnit!" she muttered under her breath.

"A salad, seriously? "I know what you're capable of", he said, glancing into her tray.

"Well, it's lunch," she said dryly. "Not a five-course meal." 

"Do you always sneak up on people?" 

"I like surprises," he said smoothly. "And I like getting to know you." 

Her stomach twisted—not just from the way he said it, but from the simple fact that she wanted it too. 

"Well, since you're so interested," she said lightly, stabbing a fork into her greens, "what do you want to know?" 

Brad leaned back slightly, keeping his gaze locked on hers. "What makes you happy?" 

The question caught her off guard. She expected the usual suspects —where she grew up, what her hobbies were. Man sure knew how to dig deep.

She hesitated, then shrugged. "I like spending time with the people I care about. Good books. Good food. And eating in peace, she added while giving him a pointed look.

Brad threw his head back, letting out a sweet-sounding belt of laughter, "I have a feeling that last part was aimed at me, and I'm sorry for taking away your happiness. I'll make it up to you, promise."

"What's all this about owning half of the hospital?" Clair enquired. She sensed he was a bit well off, but apparently…

"Yeah," Brad replied, "My company bought up 50% of the hospital, soon to be 70%, we're adding a new cardiology wing."

"Your company?"

"Yeah, I own a construction company called Platform….well I only own about 70% of it — what a coincidence, I know, right?"

Platform…platform, the name danced around in her mind and then a lightbulb…realization. 

THE Platform, one of the top 10 construction companies in the States, according to Forbes, apparently worth just over $50 billion. She knew this only because Marco always had an updated copy of Forbes in the ambulance, and she would scan through occasionally. Whew, talk about being loaded.

Brad studied her as if trying to read her mind. 

She had to keep him talking.

"So why this hospital? Why St. Luke's?"

Well, a couple months ago, my dad suffered a heart attack, he survived though. He has a congenital heart defect as do I. So, anyway, I flew in specialists from New York to help out here. But, St Luke practically saved his life. And fast forward a few months later, St Luke's saves my life as well, courtesy of the most brilliant woman I know, you."

Well, he was definitely laying it on now, Clair thought, arching a brow. 

"So this is my way of giving back and supporting the good work."

"I see." she calmly replied.

"Listen, Claire," he said , leaning forward with a somewhat serious expression on his face. "I have a proposition for you."

She folded her arms across her chest, "I know nothing about construction and no, I won't help you sell drugs." 

He burst out laughing.

She liked watching him laugh.

He wiped the tears from his eyes, still giggling, "listen, father's been struggling, as I told you earlier. He's probably not long for this world. He needs a private nurse. Someone who actually knows what they're doing. Unlike the last one he had to literally chase away in a quite dramatic manner. I was hoping you'd be willing to do the job."

She smirked. "Your dad sounds like he's a real sweetheart to work with." 

"Oh, he's definitely an experience," Brad admitted. "But he's also important to me. And I need someone I can trust." 

Clair hesitated. "Brad—" 

"The pay is definitely more than what you currently make here," he said, cutting her off. "And the hours are flexible, you'd get to spend more time with your family, you do have family, right?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Your parents?"

"No, a niece."

Her heart pounded. What am I doing, she thought.

"Really? How old?"

"Just turned five."

"What's her name?"

"Clarissa."

"Awww, such a cute name too. And her parents?"

"Just her dad, my brother."

What am I doing?! What am I doing?! What am I doing?! She screamed at herself.

"Oh, okay. Well you'll get to spend more time with Clarissa, I'm sure she'd love to have her Aunt around more.

It was tempting. Too tempting. And she wasn't doing a very good job of resisting.

A new environment. A job that didn't take so much of her time and energy. She'd miss Sarah, but she'd understand. It was a chance to do something different, even if just for a while. 

But the most dangerous part of it all, was him. Taking the job meant being around him more often than not.

"Damnit" she muttered inaudibly, lowering her gaze and forcing herself to think. 

"You don't have to give me an answer right now," Brad said, his voice softer. "Just stew it over." 

She exhaled slowly through her teeth and murmured, "Okay."

His lips curved into a slow, almost mischievous smile. 

"I'll take that as a maybe." 

As he stood to leave, he glanc

ed back at her one last time. 

"Enjoy your salad, Clair." 

And then he was gone, leaving Clair thinking maybe she should have skipped lunch that afternoon.