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The abrupt subject change caught me off guard long enough for me to stave off another wave of panic. “A-fib, right? How is she?”
He shrugged a little. “Her doctors say she’s improving. I called in a cardiology consult this afternoon, and they thought she seemed stable enough to go on her birthday cruise.”
“Oh, wonderful.”
“It is, yeah. Should be fun. A lot of amenities on the ship, and we’ve scheduled an excursion to Mexican ruins.”
“Wow. You deserve a vacation.” We could talk like normal people—like colleagues.
“In fact, we have an extra room in our cabins.”
Oh. Terrible. “Wow, that’s great. Um—where is the bathroom?”
Adam pointed around the corner and I followed his directions. I hurried to tap out a text to Natalie:This is not a party, it’s a date, call me ASAP.
I waited a few minutes, flushed, and washed my hands. When I returned to the living room, I nearly tripped over the barstools we’d been sitting in. When did it get so dark in here?
Adam had moved to the couch. “I thought we might be more comfortable over here.”
“Oh, thanks, but this is great.” I hopped back up on my barstool. I turned to snag more off the charcuterie board—and fill my mouth—I found it was gone.
I turned back around to find it on the coffee table. By the couches. And Adam.
“Would you like something to drink?” he offered, already picking up a bottle of wine and one of the glasses on the table. All that was missing was a candle.
“Water, thanks.” The only kind of drink I intended to have, because I was driving home as soon as I could make a graceful exit. Preferably before he got to that other question of his.
Adam’s eyebrows betrayed a bit of surprise or concern as he stood. He filled a wine glass with ice water from the refrigerator and held it out to me by the bowl. I took it by the stem.
Adam didn’t let go. He contemplated the glass for another minute of awkward silence.
On the other hand, it was probably less awkward than anything he might say.
“It’s hard to let myself care about people,” he began in a low voice. He was not letting this go—the topic or the glass.
I could keep it professional. If Natalie didn’t call in three minutes, I’d make another excuse. I left the oven on. I had a lab sample coming up. I left a patient in an MRI machine. Something. “Yes, I know, it’s hard when you work with so many severely ill patients.”
He did a double take. “That too, yeah.”
I died a little more inside. How could I get out of here before we both got hurt?
Finally, I let go of the glass—and so did he. We both scrambled to catch it before it hit the hardwoods. I managed to save the glass, but water and ice splashed all down Adam’s pants.
“I’m so sorry.” I meant it. But I also kind of prayed he’d take this as a sign to dowse any other intentions for our future.
“No trouble.” Adam rounded the bar to fetch a kitchen towel.
My phone rang at last. “Sorry,” I said again. “I have to take this.” I didn’t care if it was Spammy McRobotson, I was taking this call.
My caller ID said Natalie, though. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey, where are you?”
She sounded like she’d been crying. “I’m not far. Are you okay?”
“Sam—she’s in jail.”
Suddenly, Adam was the least of my problems. “Do you have—”
