“You’re being a know-it-all.”
Megan was watching us with barely concealed delight, like we were the entertainment.
I threw the dart. It hit a balloon.
“See?” I said triumphantly. “Perfect aim.”
“You got lucky.”
“I got skilled.”
“That’s not a word.”
“It is now.”
He was smiling. Actually smiling. Not the controlled, professional expression he usually wore, but a real smile that made his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners.
Oh no.
Oh no, that’s worse.
That’s so much worse.
I won Megan a small stuffed bear. She named it Dr. Bear and declared it Dr. Trunk’s best friend.
“They’re going to have adventures,” she announced seriously.
“What kind of adventures?” Gabriel asked.
“Medical adventures. Dr. Trunk is a surgeon and Dr. Bear is a... a...”
“Pediatrician,” I supplied.
“Yes! That!”
Gabriel looked at me. “Of course you’d make the bear a pediatrician.”
“Someone has to take care of the kids while Dr. Trunk is busy being intimidating in the OR.”
His expression shifted. Something I couldn’t quite read. “Is that what you think I do? Intimidate people?”
Abort. Abort. You’ve said too much.
“I think you’re very good at your job,” I said carefully. “And sometimes being good at your job means being... authoritative.”
“Intimidating.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
“I implied you were competent.”
“That’s not what you said.”
Megan tugged on my hand. “Can we go on rides now? Please?”
Thank God for children with short attention spans.
