Page 107 of The Love Operation

We both stare at it.

“What is that, Cordelia?” Benedict asks, voice level in the way people get right before they panic.

“Well, Benedict, I’m pretty sure that’s a piece of Mrs. Hubert.”

“And Mrs. Hubert is . . . ?”

“The patient I just operated on.”

“So there’s a piece of charred human between us?”

“Scar tissue, that’s all.”

I swipe a tissue from the visor, wipe up Mrs. Hubert, and solemnly tuck her into the tiny car trash can my sister gave me. Bless her gift-giving instincts—it’s like she knew this moment was coming.

“There we go,” I say, dusting my hands off. “All taken care of.”

“This is just . . . par for the course with you?”

I flash him a deadpan look. “And to think—it’s what you missed out on by bailing on a career in medicine.”

“I don’t know who I was kidding. I was never supposed to be a doctor.”

“If Tad Cooper had been here, he would’ve eaten that. And possibly developed a taste for human flesh. It could’ve been a real thing.” I say it lightly, almost as a joke, but his words hit somewhere deep.

I was never supposed to be a doctor.

That doesn’t fit with the Benedict I knew. The one who aced anatomy. Who dreamed of swapping surgery stories, just like my parents.

Was Delenn right? Did I miss something?

And if I did and things didn’t end between us like I think they did, then where does that leave me now?

My anger toward Benedict has always been my armor. It let me stay upright after he walked away. It’s what lets me sit here now, sure that there’s nothing between us.

Because he left.

Because he told me he was pretending.

But that doesn’t make sense with what he’s telling me now.

My head wants to whirl. I need to revisit those memories, soon. Because I can get to the bottom of this.

“Is Tad Cooper your boyfriend?” he says, trying not to smile. “And why would he eat the remains of your patient? Are you dating a cannibal, Spinal Cord?”

“It’s not her remains,” I say. “Don’t be so morbid.”

He holds a hand up. “Excuse me. You are the one who just emptied part of a person out of your shoe.”

“It was scar tissue! Scar tissue is hardly a person.” I cross my arms. “And no, my boyfriend is not a cannibal—unless he’s been lulling me into a false sense of security. Tad Cooper is my chameleon.”

“Tad Cooper? Wait. Is that from Galavant?”

My jaw drops. “You know Galavant? It’s so obscure. No one ever gets the beauty of Tad Cooper’s name.”

“I watched it with my mom and sister. My sister swore I looked like Galavant.” He puffs out his chest like a knight on a mission to save the imprisoned princess.

I cover my mouth. “Oh my gosh. Can I have your autograph?”