“Maybe it is her lifeblood,” Michel suggests. “Maybe you should remind her that there’s more to life than work. Take her on a trip or something.”
I think about that for a split second, but then Zoe comes back, and she stands very close to me. Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles.
“What can I get you to eat?”
We give her our orders, toast for me, an omelet for Michel, and then she’s gone.
“I remember when we were that age,” Michel muses as she walks away. “We were just snot-nosed kids. We didn’t know a thing.”
“Nope.”
“You still don’t,” he adds with a grin.
“Bite me.”
“I’m a priest. I would never,” he announces.
I roll my eyes.
“I’m starting to wonder, you freak.”
He laughs.
The food comes, and he eats his eggs, and I bite my toast.
“How about this... I’ll come over for dinner this weekend,” Michel suggests. “We’ll cook out and drink some brews. Just you, me and Corinne. It’ll give her a reason to be a hostess. You’ve got to do some normal stuff, man.”
I nod. “Okay. She’ll love that. Consider yourself invited.”
“Good. I’ll bring the wine.”
I shake my head. “Uh-uh. I don’t want shitty communion wine. You can bring dessert.”
Michel rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” But he’s busted. I can see it on his face. That was totally his plan. I chuckle and pick up the check. I make sure not to leave my card this time, and I feel Zoe staring at me when we walk out. Her gaze impales a spot between my shoulder blades, burning a hole, daring me to turn around.
I don’t.
For some reason, it makes me feel like a saint.
When I get in my car, I text Corinne, just to pound home the thought that I’m good. I’m fucking good. It doesn’t matter if Corinne can’t see the text right now. She’ll see it after her shift.
Hey, babe. I hope you’re having a good day! I love you.
She doesn’t answer, and I drive to work.
I’m just a normal man, doing normal things. It doesn’t matter that the waitress hit on me and I’ve fantasized about her a couple of times.
I’m normal.
It’s all okay.
My day is long. Boring.
My drive home is uneventful, and the house is dark, as I expected.
Artie meets me at the door. She practically head butts me, so I know she desperately has to go out. I open the patio door, and she bounds to the backyard, faster than I’ve seen her move in a long time.
“Girl, we’ve got to get you moving. If you don’t use your muscles, you’re just going to get stiffer. I think I’ll try taking you jogging with me again. Would you like that?”
She stares at me from the shadows, moving slowly as she squats.
I’m not sure she can actually jog, but we can try.
“Tomorrow,” I tell her. She’s unfazed as she slowly walks back inside. I dump some dog food into her bowl. She doesn’t lunge at it like she used to. In fact, she sniffs it and lies down next to it. It’s almost like she’s saying, “I don’t want it, but God help anyone who tries to take it. I’ll just sleep right here and guard it.”
I smile and scratch her ears, then check the clock.
Six o’clock.
I wonder what Corinne is doing. Is she coming home soon?
I call to find out. A nurse answers.
“Hello, this is Jude Cabot. Is Dr. Cabot available?”
The nurse is kind and pleasant, and her voice is very familiar. I think her name is Lucy. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cabot. She’s out on the floor. Can I have her call you back?”
“Nah,” I answer. “Just tell her I called.”
“Will do, Mr. Cabot.”
“Thank you,” I say.
She hangs up, and I hang up, and I’m alone again, staring at the wall.
12
Ten days, eight hours until Halloween
Corinne
Jude and I haven’t sat down for a meal together in weeks.
I make sure I do my charting early, chipping away at my mountain of binders by four o’clock. It gives me plenty of time, and the influx of patients has been slow for once. Chicago seems to agree that I need a night off.
I text him by six thirty. Hey, I think I can come home soon. Let’s meet at your little café for dinner.
He answers immediately. Absolutely!
Great, I tell him. I’ll text you when I leave.
I’m smiling, and Lucy grins at me.
“Got a big night planned?”
I smile back. “Just dinner with the hubs.”
“Your hubs is hot, though, judging from the pictures,” she points out. “I certainly wouldn’t kick him out of bed.”
I laugh because, to be honest, when you’ve been married so long, it’s easy to forget how lucky you are. Jude is hot. I’ve just grown accustomed to it. He’s been in my bed a long time.
“I don’t,” I tell her. “I don’t kick him out of bed.”
“Good girl, Doc.”
She eats a bite of yogurt, and the clock ticks, and I only hang around to wait until another doctor arrives to relieve me. I’m the only one here, since it’s slow.
“Who’s coming in tonight?” I glance up at Lucy when I see her getting ready to leave.
She checks. “Looks like Fields.”
“Oh, good. That should make Gabby happy.”
Lucy’s gaze is sharp. “You heard about that, huh?”
I nod. “Everyone has. He’s on his honeymoon, and Gabby is his side thing here.”
“I’m going to talk to her,” Lucy assures me. “She knows that dating a member of the staff is against the rules.”
“Someone should talk to him,” I mutter. “Fucking around on your new wife is against the rules, too.”
“He’s a slime,” Lucy agrees. “But you can’t fix that. Once a cheater, always a cheater. God help his wife.”
I shake my head, and I’ve got only four charts to go. I finish them up in ten minutes.
Fields still hasn’t arrived.
“He’s five minutes late,” I tell Lucy. “Can you call him?”
She nods and picks up the phone.
I check on the patient in exam room one. An infant with suspected rotavirus. We’re waiting on the labs to confirm it, and in the meantime, she’s got an IV drip with fluids. She presented with dehydration and a fever.
“She’s doing better,” I assure the young mom. The mother looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes. She clearly hasn’t been sleeping, but what young mother does?
“Do you promise?” Worry is evident in her voice, and I pat her back.
“Absolutely. Fluids work wonders. If the results come back as I suspect, rotavirus positive, we’ll admit her overnight to observe and get her hydrated. At this age, dehydration can rapidly accelerate. We’ve got to be careful. But rest assured, we’re on top of it.”
She nods and exhales, and I slip back out, sliding my stethoscope off, preparing to leave.
Lucy stares at me, though, her face grim.
“What?” I’m afraid to ask. Around here, it could very well mean that someone has died.
“He lost his passport. He’s stuck in Barbados.”
I stare at her mutely. “Fields?”
Lucy nods.
“He’s not coming in?” I ask dumbly.
“No. He’s waiting on the embassy to issue him a new passport so he can reenter the country.”
“God, what an idiot. That’s literally something my dingbat sister would do.”
Lucy agrees. “I tried to call Schmidt and Lane, but can’t get ahold of them. I’ll keep trying. Until then...”
&
nbsp; “Until then I’m the only one here.”
“Yep.” Lucy is apologetic, but it’s not her fault.
“Fuck.”
“Should I call Jude for you before I go?”
“No. I’ll talk to him. Just have whoever is coming in for you find a replacement for me.”
She nods and heads for the nurses’ station, and I head for the doctors’ lounge. I drop into a seat and text my husband.
Slight delay. I’m still trying to get out of here.
I mutter a prayer that God will still get me out on time. I mean, it’s six thirty-five. I could still make it.
K. I can’t wait to see you.
Jude answers immediately. I smile at his words and close my eyes just for a second. It feels like I haven’t slept in a thousand years.
13
Ten days, four hours until Halloween
Jude
You still alive?
I text Corinne at eight. I’ve been waiting at a table for an hour, sipping on water, reading the news.
Vilma stops by my elbow. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Cabot. I know you’ve had to wait. Both of my evening-shift girls called in sick, so we’ve been trying to cover. My morning girl just arrived, and so things will pick up soon.”
Fuck. Her morning girl.
But I smile at her. “It’s fine, Vilma. No worries.” She pats my arm and takes her leave, and I text Corinne again.
Do you have an ETA? Should I order for you?
I put my phone on the table, and as I do, Zoe sees me from across the room. Her eyes light up, and she literally stops what she’s doing. She makes a beeline straight for me, and it’s like I’m the only one on the planet who is important. A thrill shoots up around my heart, causing it to pound.
“Hey, sailor,” she murmurs when she reaches my elbow. She smells like drugstore perfume, but it works for her, a tangy loud scent of flowers and fruit. She’s got on too much, but that’s her personality. She’s blatant, she’s obvious.
“I thought we established that I’m not a sailor.” I arch my eyebrow, and I can’t help but smile. She’s flirting with me. Who wouldn’t enjoy that?
My self-rationalization knows no bounds.
She shrugs. “I like sailors, though.”
She pauses, her pen above her pad. She takes the tip of it in her mouth and nibbles on it, then her pink tongue darts out to swirl around it, round and round.
“What would you like?” she almost whispers, and her breathy tone reminds me of Marilyn Monroe. Happy biiirrrthday, Mr. President... I bet JFK didn’t give one fuck about fantasizing.
I clear my throat. “I’m waiting on my wife. But I’ll have a salad to start, I think.”
She smirks a bit. “Why have salad when you can have steak?”
I feel my heart pounding against my ribs, threatening to break them.
“Are you the steak?” I ask bluntly, and the blood rushes through my temples in a roar. There’s no sense in pussyfooting around this.
Her lips part. “Maybe. Although I do know a guy with a great sausage.”
I startle at her bluntness because she’s referring to my dick pic, and I thought we were done with that. She throws her head back and laughs, sliding her hand down my arm as she slips into the seat next to me.
Her fingers are warm, and the heat bleeds through my shirt into my skin, making an imprint. I feel it throb, a foreign object in a place it shouldn’t be. I’m like a deer in the headlights, and I’m frozen.
“I’m sorry.” She giggles. “But the look on your face is priceless. I didn’t mean to have fun at your expense. I won’t mention it again. Probably.”
She giggles again, and I can’t help but chuckle, too.
“I deserved that,” I admit. “I really did. I’ll be more careful who I send pictures to from now on.”
“Not too careful, I hope,” she answers, and her carefully sculpted eyebrows are raised, her eyes staring boldly into mine without flinching.
Now I’m really stunned, and I can’t help but engage. I can’t help it. Her bluntness draws me in. It’s refreshing and we’re just talking.
“I thought dick pics don’t do it for you.”
She smiles, a grin that stretches from one side of her mouth to the other.
“Maybe I liked yours,” she tells me. “It’s everything I like...long, strong and hard.”
Jesus.
She doesn’t miss a beat, as though she doesn’t know my heart is pounding a million miles per hour.
“I’ll go get your order in.”
When she stands up, she slides her full tits along my shoulder, and there’s suddenly a lump in my throat as I watch her walk away, her young ass perfectly formed, like an upside-down heart.
This is wrong. I’m a dumbass. I should run.
But wait, the devil on my shoulder whispers. You’re not doing anything but talking. What’s the harm? Your wife will be here any minute. You’re good. You’re just here to eat with your wife.
I shove my misgivings away, and I lock them closed with a key, mentally handing it to my internal devil.
Fuck it.
As Zoe takes care of her other patrons across the room, I feel her watching me. It’s like a heated cord, running between the two of us, tying us together. I watch her smile at a middle-aged man, and as she flirts with him in front of his wife, she watches me from her periphery. I wonder if she’s trying to make me jealous, or if she’s vying for a bigger tip. Either way, she’s pissing off the wife.
Zoe sways when she returns to me with a glass of water. As she sets it down, I look at her. “You know, you don’t have to flirt for tips. Good service works just as well.”
She’s surprised by that but masks it quickly. “Oh, I perform very good service.”
Jesus, she never turns it off.
“But thanks for looking out for me. I’ll be right back with your food,” she purrs. “It just came up.”
A minute later, she’s setting a juicy steak down in front of me.
“Life is too short for salads.” She smirks, and I know she’s not talking about my meal. “I mean, if you really wanted the salad you ordered, I’ll go get you one. But I think you really want the steak.”
She’s the steak. She knows it, and I know it.
“This is fine,” I manage to say, and she laughs, trailing her hand across my back as she leaves to attend other patrons. I watch her sway and laugh and flirt, and I try not to, but my gaze keeps getting drawn back to her, over and over and over.
Her hips sway as she works the room, her skirt tight as she bends over. I picture what I would do with that ass, and...fuck.
My phone rings and I pick it up.
“Babe, I’m so sorry.” It’s Corinne. “Fields is stuck in Barbados, and he didn’t let us know until tonight. Lucy is trying to get someone here to take over for me, and I fell asleep in my chair. I’m so sorry. I’ll just have to see you at home.”
“That sucks,” I tell her honestly. “I wish I had known. I would’ve just stayed home.”
“I’m so sorry, Jude,” she says, and she sounds so sincere. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Okay. Just try to get home early, okay? Maybe we can still salvage the evening.”
“Deal.” She hangs up, and I look up to find Zoe watching me, a strange look in her eyes.
I’ve got to get out of here.
I wolf down my food, and just when I look up to wave her over for my check, she’s in front of me with a drink in each hand.
“I don’t know what you like to drink,” she admits, setting one down in front of me. “But the rum and cokes aren’t bad. I’m off work now, so I need a drink, and you look like you do, too. Vilma’s drinks aren’t fantastic, but at least she has them. Most of these hole-in-the-wall places don’t.”
Son of a
bitch. I didn’t get out of here fast enough, and here she is at my table, tucking her legs up under her. With her short skirt, I can actually see her crotch if I try. I pointedly look away.
“That’s one of the reasons I started coming here,” I tell her, watching the condensation drip down my glass. “Vilma’s has a liquor license. My wife used to like to come here on Sunday mornings for Bloody Marys with breakfast.”
“Oh?” Zoe’s eyebrow is raised again, and her lips are plump as she runs her tongue along the rim of her glass. I follow that pinkness with my eyes, imagining the wetness of it. “Why doesn’t she come anymore?”
“She comes sometimes.”
She giggles. “I’d think so, with a sausage like that in her bed.”
Damn it, I can feel my cheeks flush. I haven’t spoken with anyone like this but Corinne in fifteen years. It’s a rush that I can’t ignore as the blood pumps hard through my groin.
“I’ve had no complaints.” I sound smugger than I am as I gulp at my drink. Half of it slides down my throat in one big swallow.
“I bet.”
She smiles again and takes another sip, and this is okay. I’m talking about my wife, for God’s sake.
Zoe examines me over the rim of her glass, and she twirls her hair in her fingers.
“Tell me about you, Jude Cabot. You seem fascinating.”
“I’m not,” I assure her, but she’s already shaking her head.
“That’s a lie,” she protests. “You’re sexy as sin, you’re married, yet here alone talking to me. You’re confident, you’re strong. You’re in the prime of your life. That all sounds very interesting to me. Tell me your story. How long have you been married?”
She sips at her drink again, and this is all very conversational. She’s just a girl and I’m just a guy and we’re just having a chat. That’s all. I’m not wrong. This isn’t wrong. It can’t be wrong because we’re literally talking about my marriage.
I smile back.
“Fifteen years. Since college.”
“So...” Zoe counts on her fingers. “That should make you...what...thirty-five? Thirty-six?”
“Yep. Thirty-six.” I eye her clear skin, and the face that is unmarred by a single line or blemish. “You’re...twenty-five?”
Such Dark Things Page 9