By chapter six, I’m hooked.
“She seems as affected by me as I am by her. I have half a mind to find out how wet she is for me right now. With patience I don’t feel, I reach out and run the back of my fingers against her bare hand from her wrist to the knuckles. As I descend to feel her thigh?—”
I stop when I realize where this is going. My cheeks are on fire, and I’m not sure I’ve ever needed a glass of water as badly as I do right now. Surely, Mom doesn’t want me to keep reading this aloud. I look up to find out, but she’s smiling mischievously at something behind me. I turn around and find Dr. Obnoxiously Hot grinning right back.
Shit. I forgot I’d left the door open a crack. Perfect for slipping in quietly without being noticed.
Under his open lab coat, he’s wearing a fitted white button-up with black slacks. I don’t remember what he was wearing the last time I saw him, but he somehow looks even better. He’s not sporting a five o’clock shadow anymore. His jaw is defined, his features sharp, not so unlike the hero on the cover of the romance I was just reading. His hair is a little damp, like he just got out of the shower and didn’t bother drying it completely. The dark locks curl slightly around his ears in a way that makes me want to twist them around my fingers.
“Don’t stop on my account.” He leans against the wall, arms crossed, a clipboard with Mom’s medicalhistory hanging from one hand. “It was just getting good.”
I hide my embarrassment with a scowl, and he turns his attention to Mom. “How are you doing today, Mrs. Berton? Dr. Newberry asked me to check on you.”
Mom’s whole demeanor lights up, which is actually nice to see. “Do you like romance novels?”
I almost gag at the flirty tone she uses. This can’t be happening. Why can’t she just go along with his subject change and let everyone forget the fact that I was just reading a steamy novel, out loud, to my mother, in a hospital! I wish I could crawl under the bed right now. If the hospital bed didn’t go all the way to the floor, I just might do it.
Dr. Obnoxiously Hot lifts and lowers one shoulder with a smirk. “I’ve been known to read a few.” He winks at me. Actually, winks! Who does that? And what guy reads romance novels?
“I’ve got three sisters,” he says, as if in answer to my thought. “Plus, one is a sex therapist and has made it her mission in life to ensure I know a thing or two about women.”
My cheeks feel like I stuck them in an oven, but he looks as cool and collected as ever. Mom rubs her hands together, looking like she’s scheming. She’s probably one step away from planning our nuptials. I can see her thoughts spinning as she tries to figure out how to learn if he’s single. She’s always been a matchmaker at heart. I should cut her speculation short and save her the trouble. There’s no way a man thisgorgeous is single. Besides, I have no desire to get into a relationship. Been there. Done that. Barely survived. Wouldn’t survive again. Not without Mom.
I shake my head to clear the errant thought, then clear my throat before answering Dr. Obnoxiously Hot’s original question. “She’s doing okay today. Better than yesterday.” Which doesn’t seem like such a good thing right now when she’s clearly making it her mission to embarrass me. I do my best to ignore the eye wiggle she gives me. “She hasn’t had much of an appetite, but she kept down a yogurt.”
Mom picks up the remote attached to the bed and turns on the TV, apparently content to let me do the talking for her. I throw some side-eye her way and continue. “The new pain meds seem to be working, but now she’s having trouble sleeping.”
Dr. Obnoxious continues leaning against the wall, completely ignoring me and looking at the TV as Mom flips through the channels. She stops on Meg Ryan’s face.When Harry Met Sally.The diner scene. Great.
“Good choice,” he says.
“Are you listening to me at all?” I snap, embarrassment making me mean.
“Trouble sleeping,” he acknowledges the question without taking his eyes off the screen. “Got it. I’ll have Dr. Kim prescribe something.”
I try to read his name badge, thinking maybe I’ll report him, but it’s flipped the wrong way. After a few silent minutes filled only with the sound of Meg Ryanand Billy Crystal talking about whether women fake it in bed, my frustration reaches a tipping point.
“Did you come here to take care of my mom or to ogle Meg Ryan?” The second the question is out, I clamp my mouth closed. I can’t believe I said that out loud.
“Actually, I came here to talk to you.” He gives me a sideways glance, then quickly looks away and rubs the back of his neck. “About… last night.”
Mom’s eyebrows shoot even higher, no longer feigning disinterest in the conversation.
He can’t mean the hallucination, right? There’s no way he came here just to talk about how awkward I was, or my use of the f-word on hospital grounds. I’m sure these walls have heard worse. Nothing else noteworthy happened last night. Unless I’m really losing it and forgot some other important or mortifying situation entirely.
He turns his head away from the TV and looks straight at me. When our eyes meet, it feels as if something tectonic shifts into place. The soft noise from the TV stops. The steady hum of my mom’s IV drip silences. Even the second hand on the clock behind him is stuck in place.
His eyes go wide. “Holy fu—” the curse dies on a breath. “I wasn’t sure…” He looks away, and the world resumes.
The beeps and clicks of hospital life layer over Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal’s witty banter. His head snaps back to me, and everything stops again.
What the hell? This can’t be happening. Timedoesn’t just stop. I mean, people say it does, but it’s hyperbolic. Right?
I remember an old story from Sunday school, back when my dad was still living with us and made us go to church so he could network, that had something to do with stopping time. If I remember right, it was so the Israelites could fight a battle or something. I didn’t believe it… but this… What is this?
“How are you doing this?” I whisper, too shocked to move, or blink.
“Me?” He chuckles. “I’m pretty sure this is a group effort.”
