Page 19 of Fearlessly Us

“I accept your apology.”

You would think I confessed my undying love for the man the way the grin explodes over his face and holy shit. That grin should come with a warning label. “So you’re not mad at me anymore?”

I shrug. “I’m sure I’ll find something else to be mad at you about at some point but for now, no, I’m no longer mad you stood me up and I ended up eating ice cream straight from the carton while sitting on my couch half-naked.”

Drew’s grin turns a little feral. “Half-naked? Tell me more, Princess.”

I unwrap another mini-Snickers and shove it in my mouth to keep from smiling. Swallowing, I take a sip of the iced latte sitting on my desk and then turn back to Drew. “No. Tell me why you need a lawyer.”

Drew nods. “I told Avery she could live with me. Her grandmother is some Pittsburgh socialite or something and is never around, so Aves is on her own a lot. Now that the season is kicking into gear, there will be times I’m not around either, but it sounds like even with my travel, I’d be around more than her grandma. She’s adamant about staying where she is, but I want to help her out as much as I can. I have so much, and I’ve never had anyone to share it with. I’d like to share it with her. I figured there are all kinds of boring ass tax reasons just transferring money into an account in her name is a bad idea, so I asked Julie if she would help me out with trusts or whatever. And Julie gave me you.” Drew’s gaze locks on mine, and he does a slow perusal of my face before his eyes trail lower, and I feel it everywhere before his stare come back to mine, his smile so sexy it immediately ruins my underwear. “Lucky me.”

Get your shit together, Caitlin, I order myself. Be a fucking professional.

I slide a legal pad in front of me like armor. “Damn right, lucky you. I’m fucking great at my job.”

Drew leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, smile still plastered on his face. “Princess, I think you’re great at every damn thing.”

“Do you have to call me that?”

Drew nods. “One hundred percent I do.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.” I pause for a second to gather my thoughts, but before I can say another word, I’m interrupted by the opening bars of “I Am Woman.”

CHAPTER SIX

CAITLIN

“Shit,” I mutter, fumbling for my phone to silence it. My ringer is never on unless I’m home alone, but I must have forgotten to turn it off today.

Goddammit.

“I Am Woman?” Drew asks, hint of amusement in his tone.

“Shut it,” I order, glancing down at the phone to decline the call. But the second I see the number on the screen, my stomach clenches, anxiety gripping my spine in a tight fist. “Sorry, give me a second. I have to take this,” I say quickly, swiping to answer the call without looking up at Drew.

“Hello?” I ask, holding the phone tightly to my ear, my thumb finding the volume button on the side to ensure Drew doesn’t hear the other end.

“Hi, is this Caitlin Parker?” a cheerful voice asks.

“It is.”

“Hi, Caitlin, I’m the scheduling nurse calling from Dr. McNamera’s office to schedule your laparoscopic excision. She has a pretty busy September, but she has an opening three weeks from today, and I would recommend taking it, otherwise we’re probably looking at November the earliest, likely the week before Thanksgiving.”

“I’ll take it,” I say immediately, ignoring the terror now coiling in the pit of my stomach at the thought of doing this so soon. I finally met with Dr. McNamera last week, and she diagnosed me with endometriosis with as much certainty as she could without seeing it with her own eyes. Then she recommended surgery, which is the only way to get a definitive diagnosis. Agreeing to get cameras shoved through incisions in my belly was a lot easier to swallow when I thought it was months away. When I had longer to prepare. I’m not ready, but ready or not, I guess.

Big girl pants, Cait, I think. Do the fucking thing.

“I’ll take it. I’m in a meeting, so is there anything else I need to know right now?”

“Nope,” the cheerful nurse says. “We’ll call you a couple days before to give you all your instructions and your arrival time at the hospital. The procedure is outpatient, so you’ll leave the same day, but because you’ll be under anesthesia, you’ll need someone to drive you home afterwards.”

“Okay,” I say, ignoring the little kernel of dread I feel at the thought of asking someone to drive me home from the procedure that’s going to confirm exactly how broken I am. Fuck it. I’ll take a rideshare. I’ll pay the driver extra to pretend to be related to me or whatever. But it turns out the idea of being alone in the hospital feels worse than asking someone to come with me, and my hands clench, my heart pounding and sweat dripping down my back and into my underwear.

How completely delightful for me.

“Great!” the nurse says happily. “We’ll see you on the twenty-eighth.”

“Thank you,” I manage, before stabbing the button to end the call and practically slamming the phone down on my desk and pushing back my chair. Bracing my forearms on my thighs, I lean forward slightly and drop my head, sucking in a breath to try to calm my nervous system that is currently going haywire.