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“So what happened Saturday night? Why’d you bail?”
“Hospital called.” I hesitate, wondering how much I should actually tell her. There were too many similarities between Grace and Marcy. I swallow the lump in my throat. “There was an emergency with one of my patients.”
“Oh no.” Her teasing demeanor fades at my revelation. “I should’ve known it was important. You’d never bail on my brother like that if it weren’t.” She spins the bottle in her hands. “Was everything okay?”
I shake my head, unable to find the words, and hide my face behind the beer bottle. “She died.”
“Oh, Rob. I’m so sorry.” Marcy’s hand rests on my knee. “I’m sure you did everything you could.”
If I had a nickel for every time I heard that phrase, I’d be richer than Arthur. I sniff and tip my head back. “Yeah, well...it wasn’t enough.”
Marcy bites her lip and takes my hand. The touch infuses me with comfort and hope. I squeeze it and smile.
“Thanks for trying to cheer me up, Marcy.” I sigh. “It’s part of the job. It fucking sucks, but I’ll get over it. I can’t save them all.”
Marcy rests her head on my shoulder and threads her fingers in mine. “You’ll try though. If I know you, you’ll do your damnedest to save every last person who comes to you for help.”
“You know it.” I chuckle at how well she does know me.
“It’s gotta be better than being an international spy.” Her words are soft, but I hear them clearly enough.
“I don’t know. Travel the world, dine in fancy restaurants, stay in the world’s classiest hotels, make love to the most beautiful women in the universe. It’s a toss-up.”
She shoves her weight against me. “You watch too many Bond films.”
That’s when it clicks. “Ahh, now it makes sense.”
“What?” She draws back and looks at me, confused.
“How you knew I wanted to be a spy.”
“What?” Her cheeks turn pink. “I’ve seen your collection of Ian Fleming novels, and I know you’ve seen every James Bond film.”
“You’re observant, I’ll give you that.”
“Well...” She pulls away, and I feel a sharp loss at the absence of her touch. “It’s my job to be observant.”
“Mine too.” We’re both observant, but not enough to get past this tension that has kept us at odds for years. If she could only see how much I want her, how much I love her.
Just tell her. Do it.
Marcy stands and stretches. “Well, I should get home. Long day tomorrow.”
“It’s Saturday.” I walk her to the door.
“Yeah, but stylists don’t run normal schedules like the rest of the world.”
“You mean like doctors?” I chuckle. “I work tomorrow too.”
“Day shift?”
“Yup.”
Her smile warms me. “Well, don’t work too hard.”
“You too, Marcy.” I open the door for her. “Be safe.”
“I’m always safe, Rob.” She waves as she walks down the hall. “Later!”
