by Kelsie Rae
“Hey, sorry I’m late.”
She waves me off. “No worries. I ordered you a plate of pancakes. Is that okay?”
My stomach grumbles. “Yup. Sounds great. I’m finally getting my appetite back, thanks to a prescription Dr. Bennett gave me.”
“Ooo, I bet it was the same one he gave me at the beginning. Isn’t it the best feeling ever to not feel like you're going to puke your guts out every morning?”
“Right? Morning sickness is the worst. I hate feeling like I’m going to throw up.”
“Same. And Bertha’s pancakes are delicious. I’d hate for you to have to pass them up just because you aren’t feeling well. I’ll never forget the first time I tried them. Grady practically had to force one down my throat.” She laughs at the fond memory, and I join in.
“I remember. I still can’t believe you couldn’t see how freaking gorgeous you were. Are,” I correct myself. “Even pregnant, you’re glowing. Are you anxious to finally have your baby in your arms?”
“Yeah, I’m not going to lie. The last month has been rough. I have my appointment later today, and Dr. Bennett is going to check to see if I’ve made any progress over the past week.”
“Fingers crossed. I bet the days go by slowly in the end.”
She groans. “You have no idea. Every day feels like a week. And can I tell you how sick I am of waking up to go to the bathroom every hour? Which reminds me”––she scowls––“I need to go to the bathroom. If you’ll excuse me….”
Slipping out of the booth, she waddles to the bathroom while I pull out my phone to find another message from Ben.
DRBen918: Rare? Medium? Medium-well? Don’t tell me you like it well done.
What were we talking about?
Oh. Steak.
Marcy123Marcy: Medium-rare. Why?
DRBen918: Because I’d love to cook for you.
DRBen918: Unless you think that would be weird.
DRBen918: And if you do think it’s weird, then I was joking. Definitely joking.
DRBen918: But if you don’t think it’s weird…I’d love to make you dinner to apologize for ditching you last night. What do you say?
DRBen918: Also, on an unrelated note. How awkward did I just make this conversation on a scale of one to ten?
I’m grinning like a loon as I scan his messages.
Marcy123Marcy: Like a six? And I love a good slab of meat. Lol Steak sounds great. What day works for you? Just a hunch, but I’m going to go ahead and say that your schedule is a little busier than mine.
“What are you smiling at?” Dylan asks, making me jump a mile in the air as I register her voice.
Clutching my chest, I gasp. “You scared the shit out of me!”
Her amusement echoes throughout the diner as she plops back down across from me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Who were you texting?”
“No one.”
Gaze narrowing, she rests her elbows against the table and stares me down like a seasoned cop. For all I know, she probably picked up the interrogation tactics from her brother-in-law. “You sure about that? ‘Cause you totally just looked like you got caught with your hand in the proverbial cookie jar.”
Bertha sets two plates full of buttermilk pancakes in front of us before I have a chance to respond. “Here you go, ladies. Flag me down if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, Bertha!” we call in unison to her retreating form.
The syrup is still warm as I drizzle it on my breakfast while simultaneously ignoring the suspicious look on Dylan’s face.
Shoving a big bite of deliciousness into my mouth, I glance up at her before rolling my eyes.
She crosses her arms with a look that says, I’ve got all day.
“Have you been practicing that look?” I ask after swallowing my bite of pancakes. “Because you’re gonna nail the whole bossy parent thing.”
With a grin, Dylan quips, “Why thank you. Thank you very much. Now answer the––”
My phone buzzes on top of the table, and she strikes faster than a snake, scooping it up and reading the notification.
“Doctor Ben nine-one––Oh my gosh, is this Dr. Bennett?” Her eyes light up. “Are you texting Dr. Bennett, Marcy?”
My nose scrunches, but instead of answering her, I shove another bite of pancakes into my mouth.
“I’ll take that as a yes. When the hell did this happen?”
“Yesterday?” I offer with a shrug.
“So, you were able to let go of the whole wedding ring debacle, I assume? Did he tell you about his wife?” Her concern is apparent as she sets the phone back down on my side of the table, then reaches over and places her hand on top of mine.
“You knew about his wife?” I ask, unable to hide my surprise.
“Yeah. Grant was on the scene after the accident. It was rough. Like…really rough. I tried to tell you on the phone, but you didn’t sound like you were in the mood to listen, so I let it go. Besides, it’s not like it’s really my place.”
“You tried to tell me on the phone?”
She nods before taking a bite of her brunch and chewing. “Yup. I’m glad that he was able to clear everything up for you, though. I knew you two would be a good match. I even told Grady––”
“Whoa.” I raise my hands in defense. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Dyl. We’re not a match.”
“But, you guys have been texting.”
“Yeah?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know?”
Because I’m a horn dog, and apparently, so is he?
“So, you aren’t dating?”
“I mean…we’re going on one date,” I concede. “But only because he kind of bailed on me last night––”
Slapping my hand over my mouth, I grimace while knowing I just gave her the perfect ammunition to continue this little interrogation.
“What do you mean he bailed on you? Were you going to go on your date last night? And why do you look guilty right now?” she adds with an amused smile.
“We were just…texting. And he had to go super quick and kind of left me hanging.”
Like a detective, her eyes form tiny slits as she inspects me closely. When she finally pieces it together, her mouth drops open before she claps her hands together. “Oh…you mean you were”––she raises her arms and does a set of dramatic air quotes––“texting, but he left you hanging. Gotcha.” With a wink, a highly amused Dylan takes another bite.
“It wasn’t like that––”
“Sure, it wasn’t,” she replies through a mouthful of food before swallowing. “So, he’s taking you on a date. That sounds exciting. Where are you going?”
I shrug. “I think he said he’d cook?”
“Ooo, sounds fancy. Did he ask if you can bring anything?”
“No idea.”
“Well, he texted you. Why don’t you check?”
“Because that would be rude to you.” My fork is pointed at her before I scoop up another bite of breakfast and shove it into my mouth.
“No, it wouldn’t. Come on! I live for this stuff. It’s what gets my muse humming. Hell, I might even write a song about it. Who knows? It could be my next single. In fact, it could even shoot to the top of the charts for all we know. You wouldn’t want to tease my muse then not pay up with the goods, would you?” she challenges.
“I think Grady provides more than enough inspiration to keep your muse busy, thank you very much.”
“Come on,” she pouts. “Throw a girl a bone. What’d he say?”
With a sigh, I open my phone and read the message.
“What’d he say?” she prods.
I try to contain my smile, but it’s no use, and the bite in my cheeks proves it. “He wants to know if I can meet him at his house tonight.”
Her face lights up, mirroring my own enthusiasm. “That’s awesome! What are you going to say? You better say yes,” she bosses me.
“Of course, I want to say yes, but…is that a good ide
a, though?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because he’s my doctor?”
“Hmmm…,” she hums, tapping her finger against her chin. “Are you both on the same page? With what you’re looking for?”
“As in…someone to scratch a particular itch?” I offer.
Throwing her head back, she laughs before cringing and pressing her hand to her swollen stomach. “Damn Braxton Hicks,” she mutters under her breath.
“Ouch. You okay?”
“Yeah.” Her face is pinched with discomfort as she breathes through the contraction for a few seconds before smoothing to her usual cheerful disposition. “So, let me get this straight. You’re both looking for a casual fling.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve both been up-front about those expectations, right?”
“Yup. He’s still in love with his wife, which I completely respect. And I’m…well, I’m pregnant with someone else’s kid, so I think I have plenty on my plate for right now and don’t need to add a failed relationship on top of it.”
As if I’ve poked the mama bear, she purses her lips. “Who’s to say it would fail?”
“Because it’s me.” I ignore the sympathetic challenge in her eyes and add, “It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
“Fine. Uh, huh. Sure.” Brows pinching, she releases a slow breath while cradling her stomach as another wave of pain rolls through her. Feeling helpless, I push her orange juice a few inches closer to her. “Would a drink help?”
“I’ll be fine. Dr. Bennett assures me that it’s normal to feel like a boa constrictor is wrapped around my torso.”
I grimace. “Yeesh. That sounds promising.”
“Yup. The joys of pregnancy, right? Now, back to what we were talking about. I’m going to be nice and let that little asinine comment about a failed relationship go because these Braxton Hicks are going to be the death of me. However, I say go for it. You’ve both been up-front about your expectations, and I think it would be good for you to get out and live a little. Besides, Grady and I hooked up when we were rooming together, and look how that turned out, so I’m pretty sure that you and your doctor having sex will be a breeze.”
“You think?”
“Yeah. And worst-case scenario, you find a new doctor to finish out this pregnancy if shit hits the fan. See? Easy peasy. Definitely go for it.”
“You make it sound so simple,” I hedge.
“Life is never simple, but you only live once, so you might as well make the most of it.” Opening her purse, she tosses a few bills onto the table then pushes herself up. “I’m paying for brunch in return for all the juicy details so that my muse stays happy. Don’t disappoint me, missy.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I laugh.
“Good girl. I’ll see ya later.”
“You too.”
6
Ben
“Am I going to have to take that phone away, Dr. Bennett?” Tracey bosses me in the break room.
Feeling like a scolded teenager, I slide it back into my olive-green scrubs and stand up from the chair at the lunch table. She’s right. I’ve been distracted all day.
“Sorry, Trace.”
“I’m joking. Besides, that smile of yours is pretty adorable. Mind if I ask who put it there?”
“Who?” I deflect while cleaning up my lunch. The sandwich is only half-eaten, but I’d been too busy messaging Marcy to focus on finishing. She’s definitely a distraction. A really good one, actually. With a dry laugh, I put what’s left of my lunch back in the fridge then throw away the leftover garbage from my meal.
Tracey blocks the exit by standing in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Why, Tracey, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” I return, attempting to look innocent.
“Mmmhmm. I call bullshit. You’ve been glued to your phone nonstop today.”
“So?”
“So…you haven’t been glued to your phone…ever. Now, unless you’ve actually created a Facebook account that you’ve failed to mention before today and have gotten addicted to your newsfeed like every other person on the planet, then I’m going to go ahead and say you’ve met someone.”
Meeting her stare with my own, I mirror her stance and cross my arms. “I’ve met plenty of women since Kate died.”
“You’ve slept with plenty of women since Kate died, but none of them have been able to put that dopey grin on your face.”
I jerk back, confused. “What dopey grin?”
Twirling her finger through the air, she motions to my face. “The one I caught you sporting in here while staring at your phone when I walked in a few minutes ago. Usually, you have this concerned look that you get while reading the news, but today…there was no concerned look. There was only a dopey grin.”
“You already mentioned the dopey grin,” I point out.
“And next time, I’ll take a picture so you won’t be able to deny it.”
“I’m sure you will,” I mutter. “Is my next appointment here yet?”
Grudgingly, she scoots over and drops her arms to her sides. “Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Malone are in room three.”
“Thank you, Tracey.”
“You’re welcome, Dr. Bennett,” she mimics me. With a sigh of relief, I try to slip past her, but she freezes me in place as she adds, “We’ll continue this conversation later.”
“I’m sure we will,” I grumble. “Thanks, Trace.”
“You’re welcome.” Her tone is light and innocent as she turns on her heel and disappears into the breakroom, leaving me no doubt that she won’t stop pestering me until I give her all the gory details of who I’ve been texting today. I push away the image Marcy sent me the night before. The baggy T-shirt that practically swallowed her whole. The tiny boy shorts showcasing her long, curvy legs. The way her natural waves hung around her shoulders as she peeked up at the camera.
Clearing my throat, I march toward exam room three and try to focus on my upcoming appointment with Grady and Dylan Malone.
I like the Malones. I went to school with Grady’s older brother and even visited Grady in the hospital after his accident. The guy was in bad shape until Dylan showed up. When he lost his partner, Drew, in a fire accident, he lost himself. She was able to bring the Grady everyone knew and loved back to the surface, and now, they’re having a kid. And Dylan’s past isn’t exactly a walk in the park, either. They’ve each had their own trials, and sometimes it’s nice to have the reminder that if they could handle theirs, maybe I could handle mine, even on the sleepless nights when Kate’s vacant eyes haunt me.
Blinking slowly, I enter the exam room and get right to work in hopes of drowning out the memories.
After checking Dylan’s cervix a few minutes later, I slip off my gloves, and I ask, “Have you been having any contractions?”
“Just Braxton Hicks,” Dylan admits with a shrug. “Nothing too out of the ordinary.”
“Are they more consistent? Stronger, perhaps?”
“Maybe a little?” Turning to Grady, she gives him a helpless look, and he responds by planting a quick kiss to her forehead before turning his attention to me.
“Is everything okay, Ben?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s good news. Dylan’s making progress. Her cervix is about eighty percent effaced, and she’s dilated to a three. It could be anytime. I’d recommend you start timing those contractions and make sure to look for consistency. If they become two minutes apart, I want you to check into the hospital.”
“Do you think it’s close?” Grady’s concern for his wife battles his excitement at the prospect that he’ll get to hold his baby girl soon.
My chest tightens. “It’s hard to say, but yeah. If I had to guess, I think Baby Malone will be here before your appointment next week.”
“Well, I hope we don’t ruin your date tonight,” Dylan quips with a knowing smile as
she rubs her baby bump. The girl looks like she’s about to pop, but I’m not about to point that out to her.
I cock my head to the side. “My date tonight?”
Dylan grimaces before explaining, “I’m friends with Marcy. I may or may not have pried it out of her during brunch today.”
“Oh.” Usually, I’d be pissed that a girl in town is telling everyone about my dating life, especially when most of them knew Kate. It makes me feel like I’m not being faithful even though she’s been gone for years. But for some reason, the knowledge that Marcy told her friend I was taking her out feels…okay? Good, even. Like I should puff out my chest and pound on it a few times for good measure.
“I’m sorry if you didn’t want her to tell anyone or anything,” Dylan continues, misreading my silence for anger. “I swear, she wasn’t going to tell me. I really did have to pry it––”
“It’s fine, Dylan. I’m just surprised, I guess. She seems like a pretty private person.” And I like that about her. I like that a lot. It makes me feel like I can trust her. Open up to her without worrying about the rest of the town being privy to the information.
Dylan breathes a smile of relief. “She is. Super private, actually. But she’s awesome. I’m sure you two will have a great time.”
“I’m sure we will too. But take it easy today, and like I said, start timing those contractions.”
“We will.” Grady offers his hand, and I give it a firm shake. “Thanks again for everything.”
“Anytime, man. We’ll see you later.”
My phone vibrates against the keys in my scrub pocket, and Dylan’s smile widens into a grin. “Tell Marcy hi for me. Bye.”
Shaking my head, I watch Grady usher Dylan out of the exam room while trying to contain my amusement. And because I’m a sucker, I pull out my phone as soon as they round the corner and leave me alone.
Marcy123Marcy: Can I bring anything to dinner tonight? I feel bad showing up empty-handed.