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Chapter 38
Bianca
I made the worst possible first impression on Matt Hawthorne last night.
Even though I had no idea that Roman has a twin brother, I let my anger drive me. Tossing that glass of water in his face felt amazing at the moment, but afterward, I was hit by a wave of guilt.
As soon as I woke up this morning, I decided I needed to right that wrong.
Matt might have told me that it was fine, but I had to do something to show him that I’m sorry.
While I was drinking my first coffee of the day, I did a quick online search for the doctor.
He’s a veterinarian working at Premier Pet Care.
His bio on the clinic’s website states that he loves animals and his family. I dove a little deeper into his social media and noticed that he’s a fan of Asher Foster. Matt tagged the award-winning singer and songwriter in one of his posts from a few weeks ago.
According to the caption of a very sad faced selfie taken by Matt and another vet named Donovan Hunt, they didn’t get tickets to Asher’s upcoming tour.
Asher’s wife, Falon, did some photography work for Packton last month. I had the chance to meet her and pamper her with her favorite foods as she spent the better part of three days in one of our new properties taking shots that will be used for the marketing campaign by our sales force.
It wasn’t my place to step in and make sure she was adequately fed. Still, when I stumbled on her photographing a suite in the luxury condo building we’re set to open later this year, I saw a sad selection of sandwiches and a wilted salad on a table.
When I had more food brought in, she thanked me and offered to help me if she ever could.
I called in that favor an hour ago.
Not only will Matt Hawthorne be backstage at Asher’s concert in Brooklyn this summer, but he’ll be meeting the artist too. He’s free to bring along a guest of his choosing.
Falon emailed me a personalized invitation from Asher himself twenty minutes ago, so I printed it off, tucked it into an envelope, and I’m headed to the vet clinic to drop it off.
I’m hoping it’s open so I can leave it at the reception desk for him. If not, I’ll give it to Roman when I see him tonight so he can hand deliver it to his brother.
I round the corner on the approach to the vet clinic. I chose to wear flat sandals, a pair of white shorts and a long-sleeved pink blouse. I piled my hair into a messy up-do. I’ll jump in the shower after grabbing some lunch.
I want to pamper myself before I see Roman tonight.
We haven’t discussed when he’ll come over later, but I’ll text him late this afternoon to see what his schedule is.
I tug on the handle of the door of the vet clinic.
To my surprise, it opens with ease.
I venture inside to the sound of a high-pitched bark. Vivi and I had a dog when we were kids. It was a special part of our childhood and helped us after our dad died. The dog brought us comfort during some of the most challenging days of our lives.
I stalk toward the reception desk to find a pretty blonde dressed in blue scrubs behind it. She greets me with an open-mouthed smile. “Welcome to Premier Pet Care. What can I do for you today?”
I glance toward the waiting room filled with people holding leashes attached to dogs and carriers containing furry creatures. I spot the sweet face of an orange-haired cat in one. “I have something for Dr. Hawthorne. Can I leave it with you?”
I tug the envelope containing Asher’s note from the tote bag slung over my shoulder and push it toward her.
“He’s here today,” she says with a lilt in her tone. “He should be done with his patient shortly. If you want to give it to him yourself, I can make that happen.”
I wasn’t expecting to see Roman’s brother, but it does give me the opportunity to apologize again.
“If it’s not a bother, that would be great.”
She picks up the receiver of the desk phone in front of her and taps a button. “Dr. Hawthorne, there’s someone here to see you.”
As she pauses, she glances at me. “No, it’s not them. It’s a woman, named…”
“Bianca,” I whisper.
She repeats my name, ends the call, and glances at me. “He’ll be right here.”
I take a deep breath. “Thank you.”
My attention is drawn to the waiting room again when a dog starts howling. Laughter erupts as a man sitting with a small puppy on his lap comments that he feels the same way whenever he has to go to his doctor.
“Bianca?”
I turn around at the sound of Matt’s voice behind me. He’s dressed in jeans and a black polo shirt. A white lab coat covers that. Dr. Matthew Hawthorne is stitched across it on the left side of his chest.
