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“Really? It does just the opposite for me. I find it completely conducive to focusing. Maybe you didn’t have a good instructor.”
“Nah. The instructor was fine. I probably just needed to be in the first row.”
“Oh, you mean you couldn’t see her from the back?”
“No. I could see her just fine. But how the heck was I supposed to concentrate with a room full of women bending over wearing those tight yoga pants?”
My sister laughed. “I should have known that’s what you meant, you horn dog.”
“Horn dog? Isn’t that a bad word you’re not supposed to use?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to check my nun manual.”
I chuckled. I really missed Catherine. She might be a nun, but she was funny as shit and had the best sense of humor out of all of my sisters. “So what else is going on out there in sunshine land? Have you been to see Mom and Dad lately?”
The tone of her voice changed. “Yeah, I saw them last week.”
“Not good?”
She sighed. “The usual.”
I knew what that meant, so I didn’t press. For the next fifteen minutes, we made small talk about the weather in Chicago, she told me about a quilting class she was teaching, and I told her a little about my new roommate and how things were going at work.
“So…how have you been?” she finally asked. “Are the medications still working?”
“I’m fine, Cat.”
“Have you talked to Dr. Spellman?”
“No, because I’m not supposed to talk to him unless I need to.”
“But you’re sure you’re feeling okay?”
I’d been waiting for these questions. My sister meant well, but she worried too much.
“Would I lie to a nun?”
She chuckled. “You absolutely would. But that’s beside the point. Seriously, Declan. I’m concerned about you. Six months is a long time to be away from the doctor.”
I didn’t mention that Dr. Spellman had expressed the same concern and given me some numbers for local people I could see here in Chicago. “Listen, if anything changes, I promise you’ll be the first to know. Okay?”
“Do you promise?”
“You can’t see me right now, but I’m crossing my heart.”
She sighed. “Okay. But do me a favor and keep in touch more.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too, Sister-Sister.”
After I hung up, I thought about what I’d told her. I hadn’t been lying when I said I’d felt really good lately. Coming to Chicago had turned out to be good for me on so many levels. The job gave me a lot of visibility with the higher-ups, and edged me closer to the promotion I’d been gunning for. Plus, things with Molly were going great.
Julia.
I meant Julia.
Things with Julia were going great.
Weren’t they?
CHAPTER 9
* * *
Molly
“Someone’s in a good mood at 2AM.”
Will’s voice caught me off guard. It was Sunday night, and I hadn’t seen him in the last few days. I didn’t think he was even on call tonight. Daisy and I were sitting at the nurses’ station. She was busy entering notes into a patient’s electronic chart, and I was busy goofing off on my phone—texting with Declan about the ironing he had for me to do in exchange for the leftovers I’d stolen today.
“She smiles all the time lately,” Daisy said. “Can’t say I blame her after getting a look at her new guy.”
Oh…Will had been referring to me with his comment? I hadn’t realized I’d been smiling while texting.
Will glanced down at my phone and frowned. “Do you have a minute, Molly?”
I tucked my cell into the pocket of my scrubs and stood. “Sure, of course.”
As we walked down the hall together, Will filled me in on a patient who was on her way in. The woman was pregnant with triplets, and her labor had started too early. So he’d come in on his day off to try to stop the labor. Together we prepped an exam room, making sure we had the medications he would need, and then we reviewed the patient’s history together. When we were done, Will looked at his watch.
“Mrs. Michaels was about an hour out when I spoke to her, so we have another twenty minutes or so until she gets here. It’s probably going to be a very long night. Do you want to grab some coffee?”
“Sure.”
In the break room, the coffee pot was empty.
“I’ll make us a fresh batch,” I said.
Will leaned a hip against the counter while I rinsed the glass pot and measured the grounds and water to make the new one.
“So…” he said. “How are things going?”
His question was vague, but I got the feeling he was asking about something specific.
“Good. How about you?”
“Pretty good.” He paused for a few awkward seconds. “So…things with the new guy… I guess they’re going well if you’re smiling all the time.”
I shrugged. “I guess. It’s still pretty new, and we want to keep it casual.”
