“Yep.”
“On a bar?”
“In it. The bar. On a bulletin board to be exact.”
“Your friend found a flyer with my information on it, on a bulletin board in a bar.”
“Theo’s Place, to be exact.” Rolling my eyes, I rub at my temples. “I feel like I’m talking to a kindergartener with the amount of comprehension happening right now.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Despite the sarcastic comment, I can hear the grin in his voice across the tiny space before I even dare look up. “I just mean, um, never mind. Look, the point is, are you serious? About this?” Narrowing my eyes, I don’t back down from the blue storms staring right back.
Dr. Rhodes’ calculating eyes flit down to my lap.
My nervous hands twist themselves into a permanent knot above the piece of paper that may as well be on fire.
His gaze finally returns to my face, which has decided to match my hair once again. Wordlessly, he swivels to retrieve a brown leather satchel from the floor. Several moments pass as the man rifles through it, pulling out paper after paper.
All while a frown etches itself deeper into his face.
Deciding to make myself comfortable, I allow myself the smallest moment to lean back into the plush loveseat. The sparse decor doesn’t do much to hold my attention. If anything, the glitter embedded in my skirt from my class’ craft today may brighten the space up a bit.
Thankfully, Dr. Rhodes decides to give up a clearly fruitless search. Letting out a sigh the size of an upset kindergartner, the obnoxiously tall man wipes a hand slowly down his face. “Okay. Okay,” he says, more to himself than to me. “Clearly, this was meant as some kind of joke. Dammit, John.”
“The flyer was a joke?” My question seems to remind him of my presence.
Taking a moment to compose himself, Dr. Rhodes folds his abnormally large hands together, placing them carefully in his lap. “I’m sorry. Ms. … ?”
“Rutherford.”
“Right. Ms. Rutherford.”—the man’s tanned cheeks tint a slight pink—“a friend and I were joking around after a particularly annoying family dinner and we came up with, er, what you have there.” He nods to the refolded paper in my lap. “It was nothing more than some bullet points on a spare napkin when I last saw it.”
“A napkin?”
“Yes, which has obviously been stolen from my bag. Clearly, he felt the need to tease me.”
Unsure what to make of that, I pull my lip inward to assault it with my teeth. I think of the tiniest hope I felt when Ian and Aaron waved the flyer in my face. How my family might have taken me seriously for once in my life. Calloway Rutherford both in a serious relationship and in a profession which is finally validated to her family?
Absolutely unheard of. And apparently, the trend shall continue.
“Is your family really that bad?” Dr. Rhodes interrupts my mini spiral and I reward him with an honest to Godflinch.
“Uh,” is my brilliant answer.
The man across the way changes positions, crossing his legs and getting comfortable as attention finally shifts away from his strange predicament.
“What makes you think they’re so bad?” I try to sound defensive, but it comes out more like a timid chihuahua. The couch protests as I move to cross my arms. Which is no small feat since I still have my favorite white peacoat on.
A smirk threatens at his lips, ultimately winning out. “Come on, Ms. Rutherford. They’d have to be quite the unique family for you to be where you are now.”
Sniffing, I gain exactly one millisecond to come up with an answer. “They … they come with their challenges.”
Dr. Rhodes snorts.
“Excuse me, but that’s very rude,” I protest. “I sure hope you’re not like that with all your patients.”
“You’re not a patient,” he points out.
