Reservations of the Heart Read online

  Reservations of the Heart

  TB Markinson

  Published by T. B. Markinson

  Visit T. B. Markinson’s official website at lesbianromancesbytbm.com for the latest news, book details, and other information.

  Copyright © T. B. Markinson, 2019

  Beta read by Claire Jarrett

  Edited by Kelly Hashway

  This e-book is copyrighted and licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any forms or by any means without the prior permission of the copyright owner. The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Let’s Keep In Touch

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Epilogue

  Also By T.B. Markinson

  About the Author

  Let’s Keep In Touch

  Thanks so much for reading Reservations of the Heart. I really appreciate your support, and I hope you enjoy the story.

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  Chapter One

  Stella Gilbert dashed down the concrete stairs, taking two steps at a time, her white lab coat billowing out behind her.

  “Dr. Gilbert!” a young voice bounced off the walls in the stairwell.

  Stella stopped on the landing between the second and first floors, ruing how close she’d been to escaping. “Yes?”

  “Can I talk to you about Monday’s exam?” Mia, a first-year med student, asked.

  “Right now?”

  “If you have the time.” Mia glanced down at her white sneakers, her black-framed glasses sliding down her nose.

  I was running down the stairs. What do you think, Einstein? “If you don’t mind walking with me to the bus stop.”

  “Thank you.” The young woman blushed, turning her alabaster skin strawberry red.

  They continued the trek side by side at a much slower pace. There was no way Stella would be on time to dinner with her sister. Yet again. Damn.

  Patiently, she listened to the student’s concerns about the exam, gently prodding with guiding questions without seeming like she was steering too much.

  According to the posted schedule, the six o’clock bus should have come and gone by now, but this was South Boston. None of the buses followed any discernable timetable, and when Stella spied her ride one block away, she quickened her pace, Mia dutifully keeping up. When the doors opened, Stella was sixth in line to get onto the already packed bus.

  “If you want to continue this chat, come to my office at seven tomorrow morning before my first meeting.”

  “I may do that.” Mia waved goodbye, walking with a determined gait back to the building.

  Stella boarded and forced her way past the driver to be on the right side of the yellow line, holding onto one of the straps as the doors shut, her shins uncomfortably pressed into a rolling luggage crammed between a seated man’s legs. If she weren’t running late, Stella would have preferred walking along Massachusetts Avenue instead of taking the bus on a muggy August evening. There was something about buses mixed with this time of year, and Stella feared she’d never get the stink off her.

  When the bus stopped at a red light, Stella released the strap, slipped off her lab coat, and shoved it into her shoulder bag. It was the third time this week she’d forgotten to hang the coat up on the back of her office door on the newly purchased hook as a way to help her be less forgetful.

  At the Hynes stop, Stella hopped off the bus on Boylston Street to hike the rest of the way to the restaurant, frequently stepping into the street to skirt groups of tourists who were moving as if their feet were set into cement blocks. Was she the only one in a hurry?

  Finally, Stella arrived at Mazatlán, a trendy Mexican restaurant that mixed colorful furnishings, traditional Mexican meals, and the latest pop songs over the speakers. Stella spied the back of her sister’s head, her broad shoulders hunched in that way of hers that made it clear Rosie was annoyed, and truth be known, she had every right to be.

  Stella sighed as she got the attention of the usual hostess, who was surrounded on all sides by eager people wanting a table, and motioned that she would seat herself. The hostess smiled and waved for Stella to go on, before addressing a man who clearly was upset about having to wait. It paid to be such a loyal patron coupled with having a sister who’d been annoyingly on time since arriving on her exact due date.

  “What took you so long?” Stella goaded as she claimed her seat.

  “Oh, I have zero respect for people’s time.” Rosie made a la-di-da motion with her hand.

  “Ouch. I’m sorry. Truly. I got held up at the hospital, and then a student corralled me to discuss Monday’s test.” Stella failed to mention she’d made the student walk with her to the bus stop, nullifying that excuse.

  “Was the emergency at least life-threatening?” Rosie’s shoulders were already relaxing, and the steeliness in her eyes softened.

  “Aren’t they always?”

  “Considering you transplant kidneys and teach future doctors, I’m going to take a wild stab and say yes.” Rosie motioned for the waiter to bring another margarita on the rocks.

  Stella raised her hand to their usual server and indicated she wanted a marg, knowing she didn’t have to specify what kind. “Well, I teach more these days and write fancy schmancy articles in journals no one reads.” She stopped for a cleansing breath. “You look good.”

  “So do you, baby sis. Have I mentioned lately how much I hate you for barely being in your forties?” Rosie smiled, causing the lines around her eyes to crinkle even more.

  “Pul-lease! You loo
k years younger than I do.” Stella waved for Rosie to stop feeling sorry for herself.

  “I only look more relaxed since I spend more time on the beach. When was the last time you took a vacation?”

  “Can you define that word?” Stella laughed. “How was the Caribbean? From your tan and super blonde locks, I’m guessing sunny.”

  “Hot and humid. Just the way I like it.”

  “You’re the only person I know who loves humidity.” Stella leaned back for the waiter to set down her drink, minus the salt on the rim, her preference. “Thanks, Jimmy.”

  He smiled, but given the place was hopping, he didn’t stop to chew the fat.

  Rosie pressed on. “Can’t get enough, but it’s nothing like here because there, I’m sitting on the beach reading saucy thrillers, not nineteenth century English novels trying to figure out ways to get my students excited about Austen or Dickens. And I can drink beer that’s brought to my lounger. Now that I think of it, I wish I were still there, not back in the Boston grind. The older I get, the less I want to be in the classroom teaching English lit to little shits who can barely read. I’m waiting for some smart-ass to craft a paper only using text acronyms or emojis.”

  “Surely the state of English majors hasn’t reached that level at your forty-thousand a year university, or the parents footing the bill would yank them out faster than you can say Jane Austen.”

  “Maybe I can spread the word. Unemployment doesn’t sound all that bad considering classes start tomorrow, and I’m not ready.” Rosie’s face reddened, and she cradled her drink against her cheek.

  “Tomorrow! What a luxury. My students started two weeks ago and have their first big test coming up.”

  “Mine aren’t dedicating their lives to saving others. So, how are you, really?” Rosie seemed to examine Stella’s face as if doing her best to root out the true answer.

  “I’m hanging in.”

  “Even today?”

  Stella stroked her chin. “What’s so special about today?”

  Rosie leaned back into the hand carved, brightly painted chair and crossed her arms. “Don’t try that with me.”

  Stella flicked up a hand. “What?”

  Rosie’s eyes widened. “You really don’t know?”

  “I have no clue what you’re going on about. It’s not your birthday. Nor mine. What am I missing?” Stella shrugged.

  “It’s your wedding anniversary.”

  “Is it?” Stella closed one eye, consulting her mental calendar. “Huh, I guess you’re right. But…”

  “But what?”

  “Does it really matter now? We’ve been divorced for a few years.” Stella hefted one shoulder, determined not to let the date bother her. But, how had she’d forgotten? Her ex-wife, Kim, had always accused Stella of being a bit cold when it came to the sentimentality of their relationship. Was this further proof Kim had been right? That got under Stella’s skin more than she liked to admit.

  Luckily, Jimmy arrived to take their orders, bringing Stella out of her head. Neither of them had consulted a menu, but they’d been coming to the Mexican restaurant once a month for years. Stella ordered the enchilada platter while Rosie opted for her usual chiles rellenos.

  “Thanks, Jimmy,” Stella said when she handed him the menu.

  “You got it. I love regulars. Easy peasy.” He whirled around, heading for the kitchen.

  “He’s got such a cute ass.” Rosie licked her lips.

  “If you say so.” Stella raised her glass to her mouth.

  “What do you think of the hostess? What’s her name again? She’s a looker.” Rosie pivoted in her seat to check out the perky brunette.

  Stella forced down the mouthful of margarita, trying not to choke. After swallowing, she said, “Andrea is a baby.”

  Rosie rolled her eyes. “She’s got to be in her early twenties. Come on. You’re a hot and successful doctor. Most girls who are into girls would kill for a date. Play your cards right. You might get more.”

  “It’s weird to have my middle-aged sister call me hot.” Stella shifted in her seat.

  “You are hot, and don’t call me middle-aged. Forty is the new thirty.” Rosie shook a finger at Stella.

  “You’re forty-five.”

  Rosie mimed for Stella to zip it.

  “What? Are you trying to pick up someone?” Stella scouted the area for viable contenders. “I have a feeling your husband would object.”

  “No, I’m not. That doesn’t mean I want my age spoken aloud. It gives it too much power.” Rosie shook her upper body as if warding off an evil spirit.

  “I wasn’t aware that’s how age works. How is George?”

  Rosie’s face lit up, melting twenty years. “He’s good. God, I’m lucky to have a guy like him. Especially after my terrible first marriage. Why’d you let me marry Steve? The only redeeming factor of that union was ditching the last name Gilbert. Not that Butler was all that much better. Thank God George has a decent last name.” Rosie swigged her drink. “Dr. Rosie D’Angelo sounds so much better.”

  Stella crossed her arms. “You know, Gilbert is still my last name.”

  “No one stopped you from taking Kim’s last name or just changing it. Part of me wonders if that was the only reason I married Steve. We both know I’m the emotional one. You were supposed to take care of me.”

  “You’re four years older! Besides, if I remember correctly, I told you he was an ass when I met him.”

  Rosie pressed her finger to her nose and pointed at Stella with her other hand. “Exactly! If you’d liked him, I would have ditched him way before he worked up the courage to pop the question.”

  “I was supposed to pretend I liked Steve? But, wait, I like George. That blows your theory out of the water.”

  “Everyone likes George. And I met him in my thirties. I’d matured some.”

  “A teensy bit.” Stella raised her glass. “To George.”

  Rosie clinked her glass and swallowed a hefty portion. “How can we find you a George?”

  “No offense, but Georges do nothing for me.”

  “Okay, a Georgette.”

  “Again, they don’t do anything for me. People. I’m just not into them.” Stella sipped her water since her margarita was gone.

  “That’s interesting coming from a woman who works eighty plus hours a week saving people’s lives.”

  “I like them that way. I don’t want to be in a relationship.” Stella slapped her palms together, implying never again.

  “I really thought after a few years your aversion would have softened some.” Rosie held her hands a foot apart.

  “It’s not an aversion. I’ve learned to accept medicine and love don’t mix. Besides, I have Mackenzie to think about. It wouldn’t be fair to her. It hit her hard when Kim and I separated.” Stella didn’t understand why she had to state the obvious to Rosie. Then again, Rosie was the romantic sibling.

  “A lot of divorced moms date.” The left side of Rosie’s mouth curled upward.

  “Not this one. No more relationships. I’m much happier alone.”

  “Is that right?” Rosie’s pale blue eyes had a gotcha glint. “What are you doing this weekend?”

  “When not getting caught up with work, I plan on sleeping.”

  “Sounds thrilling and totally not a sign of depression.” Rosie waved to get Jimmy’s attention to order another margarita.

  “I’m not depressed. I’m exhausted from the start of the semester and long hours at the hospital. It takes time to get back into the groove at the start of a new school year. And, Kenzie will be with her mom, so I have zero obligations.”

  “You know, not all women will—”

  “Where’s our food? It’s taking longer than normal. I’m starving.”

  “That’s my cue that you’re done with this conversation thread, but if you’ll permit me to say one thing before we talk about how awesome I am and how you couldn’t have asked for a better sister...” Stella groaned, but Rosie pres
sed on. “I wasn’t lying earlier. You’re a great catch, but you aren’t getting any younger. Don’t wait much longer.”

  “Or what? I’ll miss my chance?”

  “It’s possible.”

  Stella leaned on her forearms. “Fine by me. I’m not having a pity party for myself or whatnot. I don’t want a relationship. End of subject. How’s my favorite niece, Charlie?”

  “If she makes it through her first year of college, it’ll be a miracle.”

  “Oh, don’t be that way. She’s clever. Too much for her own good.”

  “Tell me about it. I’m afraid to ask what she did while her dad and I were out of the country.” Rosie’s face went a shade whiter.

  “Well, when I popped by to check on her, she was running a brothel. A very stylish one, I might add.” Stella grinned.

  “Oh, good. That totally puts my mind at ease. Not.”

  Stella shook her head. “I don’t know why you’re so worried. Charlie’s at school now and settling in. She reminds me so much of you.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m worried.” Rosie waggled a finger at Stella. “I can still remember all the trouble I got into during my time in college. Do we need to circle back to Steve?”

  “Please, no.” Stella laughed. “I remember the summer before your first year in college, when Mom had the oriental rugs cleaned and they all came back with cigarette burns. She threatened to sue the cleaner until Mom figured out you were responsible.”