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I sit with Dad’s words for a minute, thinking over all of our interactions. I wonder if I projected that disappointment onto my dad because I was going against every idea he ever brought up for the sole reason of being too stubborn to think about any other option.
“You know, Dad, I don’t think I was truly happy in Greensboro. I was striving for this lofty ideal of a fancy career, a beautiful wife, and the perfect family. I thought I’d never be able to achieve that standard in a Podunk town like Sonoma. I couldn’t see how full your life was until mine blew up, and I was forced to recognize how miserable I truly was.”
“I always wondered if the life you were living was really what you wanted. Maybe that’s why you thought I was disappointed.”
“Maybe. If I’m honest, though, I’m still not sure that clinic work is for me. I got used to the excitement of surgery making each day different. I don’t know if I can stand the monotony of the clinic schedule.”
Dad’s laugh pulls a smile from my lips. This conversation was exactly what we needed. The weight of his disappointment is finally off my shoulders, no longer clouding every choice I’ve ever made.
“So, make it not boring. Son, when I opened the clinic, I was in my late forties with a surly teenager who turned the silent treatment into a sport. I didn’t have time for fancy digs and cool programs. Why can’t you make the clinic be what you need? As long as the town is still able to have their animals cared for, why can’t you make the clinic your own?”
“I guess I never thought you’d be okay with that.”
“I mean, I don’t want you to stop serving our patients, but there are tons of programs you could start. Like a monthly adoption program to encourage people to rescue, or hell, you could do puppy yoga. I don’t care. Whatever is going to spark your interest and will keep you happy. That’s what I care about.”
“I’ll think about it. Thanks for this, Dad. It’s good to know I’m not a complete screw-up in your eyes.”
Dad leans into me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “I couldn’t be prouder of you,” he whispers.
When he releases me, I clear my throat of emotion.
“Want to go have a beer?” I ask.
“You’ll have to sneak it out to me on the porch so your mother doesn’t see.”
I laugh. “You got it.”
13
SARA
The buzz of the busy restaurant rings in my ears as I wait for my food. La Mensa is packed for a Tuesday evening. It shouldn’t surprise me. This place has the best Italian food I’ve ever had. Not only is every single meal phenomenal, but their breadsticks are to die for. I usually get an entire order just for myself.
The past few weeks have been…interesting. Ben has been suspiciously less hostile than when he first started at the clinic. He still needs to work on his tableside manner—he tends to get annoyed very easily. However, he usually starts the day in a better mood, even when Michelle and I wear funky scrubs.
If the gossiping hens can be trusted, it sounds like Ben has officially decided to stay. Levi started working on his house sometime last week, which is a pretty big commitment in my book. You don’t buy a house unless you’re planning on staying for the long term. I’m hopeful it also means we won’t have to worry about finding a new person to run the clinic. It would be tough to go through another monumental change when we’re almost settled after the first one.
It’s not like I’ll ever ask Ben for confirmation, though. He’s still colder than a block of ice despite being hotter than blue blazes. I don’t think anyone is capable of melting that icy exterior of his, no matter how many closets you organize together.
I wonder if he’s a mushy marshmallow under all that steel. I could see him being a huge softy based on how he interacts with the animals at the clinic. He may not be great with the owners, but he’s especially gentle with the animals. It’s the only reason I haven’t popped him in the nose for being an asshole.
“Hi, I’m here to pick up a to-go order for Ben.”
My head whips up from my phone at the sound of his voice. Why is he always around when my thoughts stray to him? It would be great if, just once, I’m not blushing while he’s around. It makes me feel like a schoolgirl with a crush on the football star. And it brings back those dormant memories of him looking at me like a bug when I was fourteen. I’d prefer not to reenact those particular moments.
I am enjoying the view right now, though. He’s got on a fitted green shirt with gray running shorts. His back muscles look as if he’s about to bust out the seams of his shirt. Have his muscles gotten…bigger? Is that possible? Is it weird that I’m even noticing? Now that I think about it, his button-down shirts have been fitting a little more snugly. Did he start working out? That’s the last thing I need. More muscles on an already gorgeous package.
I shake my head as he turns around, forcing my eyes back down to my phone. I shouldnotbe ogling my boss. For a multitude of reasons.
The bench shifts as he sits next to me, but I keep my eyes on my phone, making it seem like I’m lost in the social media site I’m scrolling.
“How are you, Sara?”
God, the way he says my name. And why does he smell good? Like a smoky campfire in the middle of fall. I want to shove my nose into his neck.
Stop it!
“I’m good. How are you?”
