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I’d add Navy’s check up to the clinic’s electronic appointment system myself, but I steer her in another direction.
“Give the clinic a call and see what’s available.” I pass the buck effortlessly because this way I’ll have a clue about who this woman is and what the fuck was so wrong with Navy that I needed to save his life.
“I’ll do it,” she announces as she tugs a phone out of her back pocket. “I’m surprised to see you here. Please tell me you’re going to be teaching here this semester. We could all use a professor like you.”
As curious as I am about what the hell that means, I skate past it. “I’m still working at Premier Pet Care full-time. The only things I’m teaching are how to brush a dog’s teeth and the best way to administer medication.”
She laughs at that in an exaggerated way. “You’re such a card.”
“I’ll see you later, Bess,” I say, testing the waters, hoping like hell that’s her name and not some brand name that’s been around for almost two decades that I’ve never heard of.
I can tell I hit the mark before she says a word. Her face lights up, sending her green eyes to rake me over. “I knew you remembered me. I’m what many boys call unforgettable, if you know what I mean.”
Since I’m a full-grown man and not a boy, I take a step back.
“I have to run.” I grip the door handle tightly before I give it a firm pull.
“I’ll make that appointment now.” She waves her phone in the air. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Matthew.”
I walk away, making a mental note to hand off Navy’s appointment to one of the other veterinarians I work with.
That little dose of Bess was all I needed to convince me that another minute with her would be more trouble than I’m willing to deal with.
Chapter Three
Faith
I consider myself lucky if I get in six hours of sleep a night. A glance at the old alarm clock on the nightstand next to the bed tells me I squeezed in six hours and fifteen minutes last night.
The reason I don’t prioritize sleep is simple.
I’m a devout studier.
My parents are investing a small fortune in my education. They scored it big with a chain of organic food stores but made it clear that each of their daughters had to forge their own career paths.
Rhea, my oldest sister, settled on a career in fashion. She flew to Los Angeles after her college graduation four years ago and is now the sweetheart of the swimsuit scene on the west coast.
She works for a designer label that sells bikinis for a bundle. Lucky for me, Rhea sends me samples every spring, so I have something to wear when I go visit our other sister, Arya, in Maui.
Her college applications took her to the islands after she was accepted to her dream school in Honolulu. She balanced her studies with surfing. After her graduation with a business degree four years ago, she landed a job at an oceanfront five star resort. She worked her way up to the position of head of client services.
My folks always knew that I’d become a doctor.
I was the kid who wrapped bandages around my dolls’ limbs and tried to shove thermometers into their sealed mouths. My imagination never wandered far off the path of medicine.
Most of my friends considered it a win if they got to go to a toy store. For me, it was the doctor’s office. It got so bad when I was ten-years-old that my mom had to put her foot down and insist that every fake cough I had didn’t warrant a trip to the emergency clinic two blocks from where we lived in Hartford.
I consider every doctor I ever saw in Connecticut a personal hero of mine. They ignited my passion for studying medicine.
Even though I knew that I was confident in my career choice, I still took a gap year after graduation intending to spread my wings and travel. I didn’t venture far, but used the time to work a full-time job as a receptionist at a medical clinic to save that money for some of my expenses when I did go to college. I also volunteered at an acute care center every evening and on the weekends. I knew that would look impressive on my college applications. It worked. I was accepted to a host of schools last year.
Now, at twenty-one, I’m in the second year of my pre-med studies at NYU with my eye on the prize of a spot in medical school.
I push back the light blanket that’s been covering me and swing my legs over the side of the bed.
My feet don’t touch the floor.
This one bedroom apartment came furnished, complete with this king size bed. The man who lived here moved to an extended care home in Hartford two months before I was accepted to NYU. Since my mom has been his daughter’s best friend since first grade, they decided that I’d sublet this place until I finished school.
