Page 48 of What Should Have Been Ours

Cam: Guess you’ll just have to trust me.

My Future Wife: That sounds dangerous.

Cam: The best things always are.

I pocket my phone, grinning to myself as I walk to my car.

Wes is right. She’s into this.

And I wanna make sure she knows she has no reason not to want it.

17

Gabrielle

The clinic is already pure chaos by the time my shift starts.

I’ve already had a golden retriever with a sock stuck in his stomach, a nervous cat who nearly clawed my arm off during an exam, and a husky who thinks the waiting room chairs are his personal jungle gym.

Just another day in the life of a vet.

I’m in the middle of typing up a treatment plan when Kinsley leans against the counter beside me, sipping her iced coffee like she’s not actively ignoring her own pile of work over there.

“You’ve been in a really good mood lately,” she says, studying me.

I don’t look up from my screen as I give her a pout face. “I’m always in a good mood.”

She snorts. “Please. Last week, you nearly took a guy’s head off because he dared to question your treatment plan.”

I huff, crossing my arms. “First of all, that man tried to tell me how to do my job after watching one episode of Vet 9-1-1. Second, I’m not in a really good mood. Just…normal good.”

Kinsley raises a brow. “Normal, huh? The extra pep in your step has nothing to do with a certain doctor, does it?”

I refuse to give her the satisfaction of seeing me react. “Nope.”

She hums, unconvinced. “You sure? Because you’ve been checking your phone like you’re waiting for a text from someone, and the only other friend you have is standing right in front of you.”

I roll my eyes and then not-so-subtly flip my phone over so she can’t see the screen. “Go do your job, Kins.”

She grins. “Mmm. Denial is a new good on you.” Then she saunters off, leaving me alone with my definitely-not-waiting-for-a-text thoughts.

I exhale, pulling back out my phone when I know she’s out of sight.

Dr. Hot Chocolate: If a dog ate an entire pizza, how concerned should someone be?

Gabrielle: …how much pizza?

Dr. Hot Chocolate: Whole thing. Crust, cheese, pepperoni. Not a crumb left behind.

Gabrielle: That’s impressive. But tell “someone” to monitor him. He’ll probably just have an upset stomach, but if he starts acting weird, vet trip.

Dr. Hot Chocolate: Good to know. “Someone” will keep an eye on him.

Gabrielle: Are you the someone?

Dr. Hot Chocolate: Absolutely not. My dog has self-control.

Gabrielle: You don’t have a dog.