“And in this scenario, would you have kissed me after I walked you to your car?”

She turns completely red. I feel certain even her toes hidden in those blue shoes have to be red. “You’re making fun of me.”

Her comment knocks me back a good ten steps, even if my body remains right next to her. Why would she say that?

“If you want me to watch Roman, just let me know. I need to go home now.”

“Why would you think I’m making fun of you?”

She slides into the driver’s seat. “Because it’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous?”

“You. Me. This! The doctor and the transporter. Dr. Elijah Hawkins and … me! My idol’s ex-husband. Dr. Hottie Hawkins. This is just … a joke. And I don’t think it’s funny.”

As my thoughts snag on Hottie Hawkins, she tries to shut her door, but I block it with my body.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa … no. Just … no.” I duck my head into her vehicle.

Her eyes nearly pop out of their sockets as her head presses firmly to the headrest, unable to avoid my face … my total invasion of her personal space. My lips … inches from hers. “If I don’t do this, I won’t be able to sleep, or think, or function at work tomorrow, or focus on anything but why I was too chicken to kiss you.”

“You’re going to—”

Yes. I kiss her. I kiss her because it’s all I can think about. She turns me into a child, much like Roman with his one-track mind when he wants something.

Dorothy doesn’t kiss me back. She doesn’t move at all. So I pull away and swallow my pride, standing tall so she can’t see my anguish as I run a frustrated hand through my hair and sigh, ready to bang my head on the top of her car. I’m out of practice with … everything. And it sucks. It makes me hate Julie that much more.

Julie took her time, sorting her feelings, slowly detaching from me without me knowing, planning her escape and new life. I feel like someone kicked me out of a moving vehicle—tattered, bruised, and lucky to be alive. But clearly I have no clue how to navigate after what felt like a near-death experience.

“I’m sorry, Dorothy. Please forget that happened.” I talk to the roof of her car like she talked to the wind. And there is little doubt that my face matches the red dress she described to me.

You’re an idiot, Elijah.

“Goodnight.” I make a one-eighty turn and cross the street, not looking in either direction as if I don’t care if a car hits me—because at the moment it would be a quick way to put myself out of my misery.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Kiss and Tell

“It must be Friday!” Mom greets me from her desk as I open the door to her office, holding her favorite salad.

“Favorite day of the week.”

She makes her way to meet me in front of her desk, taking the salad from my hands and planting a kiss on my cheek. “Emily’s funeral was yesterday. Did you go to the funeral?”

“You know the answer.” I take a seat as she shuffles back to her desk chair. With very few exceptions, I attend my patients’ funerals—if I can’t save them.

“No. I assume you did, but sometimes your schedule doesn’t allow it. So I didn’t know for sure. How’s Mary Ann doing?”

Mary Ann, Emily’s mom, lost her husband and daughter within six months of each other. I referred her to my mom when she asked if I had a recommendation for a psychiatrist. She also wanted me to keep my mom updated on Emily’s progress.

“I’m surprised you weren’t there.” I sip my coffee, focusing on the photo on her desk of Roman and me.

“I’d planned on it, but I had an emergency.”

I nod slowly, feeling melancholy from the past few weeks. It’s not just Emily dying or even the botched dates (or whatever they were) with Dorothy. Everything has simmered into a feeling of failure and loneliness.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Emily?”

Mom nods, peeling the lid from her salad.

“No.”

“Okay. Is Roman excited for his trip?”

“Yes.”

She shoots me a half grin and a single lifted eyebrow. “That’s it. Just yes? What’s wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?” I stare out her window.

“Because this is where you fall apart. This is where you tell me how unfair it is that Julie is taking Roman to Texas for the first time, and it upsets you that she’s experiencing a ‘first’ with him because you didn’t sign up to be a single parent and miss out on half of his childhood.”

I shrug. “See. You already know my feelings on it, so no need to repeat it.”

“So this mood is about Emily. I know you had high hopes for that new chemo, but—”

“It’s not about Emily,” I reply with a little more aggravation than she deserves. “And I didn’t have high hopes. I simply had concrete reasoning to believe that it would work. It worked on five other patients. So my hopes aren’t dashed. I’m simply pissed off and ready to get to work on figuring why it didn’t work for Emily.”

Tags: Jewel E. Ann Romance
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