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A knock at the door saved me from my thoughts. The receptionist’s face poked in.
“Mr. Thomas Morellis is here to see you.”
I contemplated saying I wasn’t available. Then I mentally kicked myself.
I wasn’t a coward.
Steeling myself, I nodded. “Send him in.”
Seconds passed before Thomas entered. In addition to khakis and a sweater, he wore a big smile. “Dr. Cooper.”
I forced a smile. “Mr. Morellis. Have a seat.”
He chuckled and dropped into the visitor’s chair. “What’s all that?”
“Patient files.”
His brows went up, eyes brightening.
I pulled them back, keeping them safely out of his reach. “And you cannot look through them.”
“Pfft.” He waved a hand and settled back. “I don’t need to. I know everything about everyone. No place is as good for gossip as the grocery store aisles.”
He knew all but what was right under his nose.
I bit my tongue. That wasn’t a topic I was willing to pursue. “Are you here about your back?”
A shadow fell across his face. Odd for a man like Thomas, who had a quick smile for everyone.
“It’s about Ava.”
A quiver lanced through my stomach. Does he know? Did she tell him?
I doubted Thomas would begin by coming in to sit and talk. Still, I couldn’t shake my anxiety.
To hide my shaking hands, I messed with a pen and the files. “What about her?”
It was a small victory my voice came out steady. Dealing with patients taught me to hide my emotions and display calm confidence.
And thankfully, it worked with Thomas.
“She’s—” He flattened his hands on the table.
I forced my gaze to meet his.
“Well, I have to thank you for Sunday night, first. She hasn’t had an episode like that since.”
I nodded, waiting for the inevitable “but.”
“She’s just not herself, though.”
I found myself sitting up. “In what way?”
His eyes wandered, brows pinched like he was trying to picture something I couldn’t see.
“She’s been a bit distant, you know? I asked if she was still feeling poorly and she says no. When I call her to check in, she always says she’s tired and can’t talk, or some other excuse.” His shoulders made a helpless gesture. “I’m just concerned.”
My chest squeezed tight and I fought to pull in a breath. I hadn’t reached out to her since Sunday. Now I regretted my hesitation.
