“But…?”
I smiled. “But nothing. Most days, I like being able to help families navigate the system. I like fixing problems before they become lawsuits. I like making things work.”
“And the other days?”
“The other days I realize I’m just making the machine run the same way it’s always run, instead of changing how it runs.” I caught myself. “Sorry. Shop talk can get ranty.”
“I mean, it’s all relative. It got honest.” He leaned forward, drawing his arms around his glass, clasping his long, well-manicured fingers together. “You really think you don’t bring change?”
“I think I can change small things. Communication. Process. How we talk to families.” I met his eyes. “But the big stuff? The things that make the small stuff necessary in the first place? Those don’t change.”
“That’s why you’re good at your job. You see the system clearly. You don’t waste your time on shit you can’t do anything about.”
“Or maybe I’m just cynical.”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”
I snorted—a real, undignified laugh. He had a point. No lies detected.
“Harper?”
I looked up slowly, as if surfacing from deep water. Jeremiah stood next to the booth, a black sweater stretching across broad shoulders. My stomach did a neat little free fall, the drop you get when the elevator starts to move before you’re ready.
I pasted a smile on my lips. “Jeremiah. Nice to see you.”
He smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You were going to text me about that supper club thing.”
“I’m sorry, I meant to update you. It has been a busy week.”
“Yeah. Uh…” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His gaze shifted to Cole, curious but cautious. “I figured work was kicking your ass. Saw you over here and wanted to make sure you were good.”
“I am.”
His eyes flicked to Cole again, then back to me. The question was obvious even if he didn’t ask it.
“Oh! This is Dr. Vaughn,” I said. “He’s a surgeon at RMC. Cole, this is Jeremiah. He’s a project manager for a tech firm downtown.”
Cole nodded. “What’s up?”
“‘Sup.” Jeremiah’s tone was cool. He looked at me again. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your drinks.”
“Jeremiah—”
“No, it’s cool. Really.” He stepped back. “Just, you know. Maybe give me a heads-up next time if you’re going dark. So I know you’re alive.”
“Excuse me?” My brows shot nearly to my hairline. “A heads-up? On going dark?”
“Next thing I know, you’re hugged up wit’ a surgeon nigga from your job?—”
“Whoa, Jeremiah…” I held up a hand because what in theFatal Attractionwas happening here? “Could we chat later instead of doing this right here? Right now? Because I promise you will not get the result you desire if you keep going down this track.”
After a few moments of a tense standoff, his shoulders dropped and his chin lifted. “Nah,” he bit out. “I see where I stand. Don’t worry about calling me about shit.”
I watched him go, then glanced over at Cole, who hadn’t said a word. His lips pressed together, his eyes tracking mine, full of unspoken questions.
“That was not what he was trying to make it look like. We are—wereverycasual.” I curled my fingers around my drink, let the glass cool my palm.
“Oh. Okay. So a cut-buddy type of thing.”
