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I look down at my plate and nod. And then I take a bite of taco so I won’t have to answer for a while.
But she’s patient and when I’m done chewing for what feels like forever, she’s still waiting for my answer.
“Well?” she says, motioning for me to come out with it.
I look across the cafeteria and sigh, saying under my breath. “Ted Lasso.”
“What?”
I clear my throat and say it a little louder. “Ted Lasso.”
She leans in and makes a face. “Why are you whispering it? There’s no shame in liking that show. It’s amazing.”
“I’m not ashamed. I just…I watch it every day.”
She presses her lips together, but her smile is still growing by the second.
“Every day, huh?”
“I’ve watched the whole series four times already.”
“No way. I haven’t finished season three yet, so don’t tell me any spoilers.”
I shake my head. “I would never. That show must be experienced firsthand.”
“I have to say you keep surprising me, Dr. Wyatt,” she says, full-wattage smile going now. “Who knew you were such a softie?”
“Let’s not mention this to my brothers...”
We finish and pick our trays up, chatting all the way to where we drop them off. Her talking about Keely’s style and me throwing in that Ted even makes a mustache look cool.
“No, I wouldn’t go that far,” she says. “But he is really endearing.”
We walk toward her desk and I feel that familiar pang that our time together is about to come to an end. I’ve never felt that way about any friend in my life. I’m so screwed it’s not even funny.
“How do you feel aboutBob’s Burgers?” she asks as she steps behind the huge desk.
I lean on the counter and frown. “I’ve never had them. Are they good?”
She laughs. “It’s a show. And I think you’ll love it. Report back to me after you’ve watched at least three episodes. I think that’s a good amount to get acclimated to the show.”
I grin and nod. “All right. I’ll see you later.”
“Later, Dr. Wyatt.”
I walk away and turn to look back before I turn the corner. She’s looking at me and her cheeks get rosy. I lift my hand in a wave, and she lifts hers, smiling before looking down at her desk.
* * *
It’slike a gift from the gods when I get groceries that night and open the trunk, only to find Dakota’s sweatshirt that she didn’t end up needing the other day. I could totally wait and take it to work tomorrow—that would be the right thing to do. But what if Dakota needs this sweatshirt? What if she’s been missing it all this time and forgot where she last had it?
Instead of calling...which would also be the right thing to do…I stop by their condo and knock on the door, my fist death-gripped around the sweatshirt.
It’s barely a second and Dakota opens the door, her face breaking into a smile when she sees me. She tugs my hand, dragging me inside, and says, “Hi, Daddy!”
I stare at her in shock and then notice she has the phone up to her ear. It was hiding under all her hair.
“Hello?”
