The test results:
He remembered the phone call.
He’d been waiting for it, yet at the same time, the shrill ring had echoed through the house and startled him as though he hadn’t been expecting it.
He’d let the phone ring for a second longer than necessary before snatching the handle up from the cradle.
“Mr. Daniels?” the voice had asked. It sounded so near and yet he knew it was as far away as it could possibly be.
“Yes,” he answered. “It’s me.”
“The rest results are back.”
He caught his breath. He knew there was something wrong. He could feel it like the cold hand of death itself had suddenly wrapped her hands around his neck.
“Doctor, just tell me straight, what do I have?” His voice rose an octave and he realised now that the time had come, he wasn’t he could deal with the answer.
“Oh, it’s very obvious what you have,” he began. “You’re in love, you have been in love and you’re simply denying it and being a douchebag to the woman you love. Snap out of it and go and tell her before it’s too late. You’re a disgrace to man everywhere.”
And with that he hung up.
The doctor was wrong. He HAD to be wrong. This was not how he’d seen his future, but he could no longer trust himself to believe it. He’d been lying to himself the whole time and she’d known it as well as he had.
He’d finally met someone who wasn’t afraid to stand up to him and call him out on his bullshit.
He’d finally met his match. And that thought terrified him far more than anything else.