Mmm …
They are my favorite cookies in Portland.
“Dammit …” Warren looks at his phone. “I have to go. Those cookies have nothing to do with your cookie. In fact, they weren’t even my idea. Dr. Hawkins made the suggestion when I said I wanted to send you something. So now do you think he wants your cookie?”
“Yes.”
I choke on my cookie as she deadpans her answer.
A cackle makes its way out of Warren as he covers his mouth with his fist and shoots me a look accompanied by an eye roll. “Sure. Sure he does. I’ll send you something less sexual tomorrow, Mayhem, like a rosary.” Warren leaves the lab.
“Hey, ‘Dr. Hawkins,’ why would you tell Warren to send me a cookie bouquet?”
I pop the last bite of cookie into my mouth. “Why are you air quoting my name?”
“Because you’re weird with your name. Eli. Elijah. Dr. Hawkins. Just so many rules to figure out.”
“At work, Dr. Hawkins is great. Without the air quotes. And I suggested Warren send you a cookie bouquet because I knew you wouldn’t accept it, and I thought Bloomin Bouquet’s cookies sounded really good today. I missed lunch with my mom. I’m kinda hungry.”
“Why did you miss lunch with your mom?”
“Because I had sex with Dorothy Mayhem at my mom’s house last weekend. And I knew that’s all she’d want to talk about today.”
“Maybe you needed to talk through your anger over me taking Roman to the farmer’s market. Maybe she would have told you something really profound like ‘Eli, you should be thankful your son is alive and free of cancer. I bet a lot of your patients’ parents would love for their biggest problem to be that their child didn’t put on pajamas before falling asleep, or that he wet his pants after too much lemonade because he was healthy enough to go to the market.”
Red face.
Shaking balled-up hands.
Clenched jaw.
Dorothy Mayhem is seriously pissed off. Not something I’ve seen before. She doesn’t stutter once. Every word feels planned and rehearsed. Did she recite this speech all night?
“I get what you’re saying, but it’s not that simple.”
“It is that simple! He’s alive. You have a living, breathing child. Stop fucking away the minutes of your time with him by worrying about the stupid stuff.”
I stand, moving closer so she’ll lower her voice and so she can hear my words and feel their gravity.
“Maybe he’s not dying today, but that doesn’t mean I’m not in danger of losing him. Julie doesn’t want you alone with him unsupervised.”
“What?” Dorothy jerks her head back. “Does she know we had sex?”
“Serial killers, rapists, and child molesters have sex. It’s not a ticket to sainthood.”
I hate Julie for being right. Does that make her reasons for leaving me right too? Is she just always right? I hope not. But she is right about Roman and us protecting him needing to be our number one priority. There is no way I will tell her she’s right. But … she’s right. And nothing Dorothy can say will change that.
“You think I’m a serial killer, rapist, or child molester? Seriously?”
“No.” I return a sad smile. “But if you were, I wouldn’t know it. The truth is, there is so much I don’t know about you. And I can’t be guided by blind instinct, or insane moments of passion. I have to always keep a clear head when it comes to Roman. And I haven’t done a good job with that.”
“Because of me.”
“No. Yes … I … I’m not saying any of this is your fault. I approached you. I invited you to do things with us. I asked you to watch him last night. It’s me. I need to be more mature in my thinking. Not be so impulsive.”
With slightly narrowed eyes, she observes me. Then she nods slowly. “Okay. Yeah, it was a mistake.”
“Mistakes happen.” I shrug, giving her my best understanding smile, hoping it beams like her favorite emoji so she’ll know I’m not mad at her, and I don’t blame her.
“So we act like it never happened?” she asks.
“Yeah. I think that’s a good idea. I don’t care to dwell on it.”
Dorothy’s gaze shifts past me. “Were the cookies really your idea?”
“Yes.”
Her lips corkscrew. “Okay.” She grabs the cookie bouquet and leaves.
I shake my head, with a grin affixed to my face. That could have gone badly. She came out fighting, but in the end, I feel we’ve reached a compromise. She took the cookies before I had a chance to snag one more, but I can’t get greedy with my victories.
An hour later, Warren returns with a bounce in his step and humming a tune.
“Thank you, Dr. Hawkins.”
I glance over at him with a lifted brow. “For what?”
“The cookie bouquet suggestion. Once Ms. Mayhem realized it wasn’t my idea, but I made the effort to take your suggestion and get it for her, she gave me the thumbs-up.”