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I didn’t want it, either, these messy feelings I found myself having for Drew, but it was his own damn fault. He was the one who hid his best qualities and decided to only share them with me. Our time together was great, filled with wonderful and interesting conversations, so much laughter it made my cheeks hurt. Drew was funny with a dry sort of wit that took some getting used to. He was a good guy, but even worse than that, I liked him.
I actually liked him.
I liked the grumpy parts as well as the sweet parts. The chef part was a personal favorite of mine, but not as much as the part with an unquenchable thirst for me.
Me!
I didn’t want to like Drew, didn’t want to have these complicated emotions screwing with my head, but he worked his way past my defenses without even really trying. Life would be a lot simpler of Drew was the grumpy jerk who greeted me when I first came to JRMC. Seeing these other parts of him, enjoying those parts, it was damned annoying.
Which is how I found myself inside some women’s boutique, perusing items rack by rack, doing a pretty good impression of a woman who enjoyed shopping. I picked up a few sets of lingerie because the fire in Drew’s eyes when he looked at me in them, that would keep me warm for many nights in the future. I held a wine colored dress that highlighted all my good parts and made the bad parts invisible. I had already exhausted my patience for shopping, but I was determined to buy a few more things.
Two and half hours into my day of retail therapy and I was over it. Why in the hell did throw pillows come in bags, anyway? I felt like I was carrying ski suits around the shopping complex. Hunger beckoned and buying food was so much more fun than buying clothes, or rather trying on clothes. The buying part was nice, the trying on part was not so nice.
I paused in the middle of the food court as my stomach lurched. Twice. My gaze scanned the area for the nearest restroom just in case my stomach decided to betray me, but a moment later the sensation was gone. “Thank goodness.” The last thing I wanted was to toss my cookies in the middle of the mall, or anywhere really.
And the thought of passing on egg rolls, fried rice and a juicy gyro, was just tragic. The only thing I loved about going to the mall with my mother back in the day was the food court. She frowned at the greasy foods, the carbs and the serving sizes were all out of control. Despite her lectures on healthy eating and calorie counting, I indulged. I overindulged every single time and today was no different.
I sat and stared at the Styrofoam containers, one containing special number two from Golden Chopsticks and an extra package of egg rolls. The other, a gyro with extra meat, extra sauce and fries. I couldn’t wait to eat a little bit of everything now, and again later.
My stomach lurched again. It wasn’t imminent but this felt like the start of something I was going to hate. Illness. Despite working long hours in hospitals, I didn’t get sick often. Rarely. But when I did, it was terrible. The worse. So bad I often begged death to take me.
Okay, I fit the cliché about doctors being the worst patients to an absolute tee, but that was how I felt.
“Okay, time to get out of here.” I closed the containers, put them in a bag and hurried back to the car. Back to Jackson’s Ridge and straight to bed.
So much for retail therapy.
Didn’t work. Wouldn’t recommend.
Drew
“I asked you to page Zola.”
Melanie Gibbons looked up at me like I was her enemy, an enemy that had insulted her, and was rude about it. “I paged Dr. Ross. Twice. She might be busy, ever consider that?”
Of course I had. I considered it and dismissed it. Zola had been behaving strangely lately. She was distant, quiet when we were together. The lovemaking was still out of this world fantastic, and she put her whole body, her heart, even her soul into when we were together. “I’ll find her myself,” I growled and stomped away.
“Good idea,” Melanie called after me, her cackling laugh sounded a moment later because nothing could keep that woman down.
I found Zola in her office, asleep on top of a stack of medical journals. “Zola.” She didn’t stir, didn’t even twitch. She slept, so peaceful and so beautiful. “Zola.”
She blinked and sat up, scrubbing both hands over her face as she focused her eyes on me. “Drew. Hey, what’s up?”
“You okay?”
She nodded. “Just too many late nights, reading, and other things.” A yawn escaped and she smiled. “Sorry. What’s up?”
