Riley allowed his gaze to fall and nodded, as if heunderstood.
"We weren't official. We didn't announce that we were seeing each other outside of the hospital. But people knew," I said. "A lot of them also knew that he—Steve—had a girlfriend who was doing her internship at the University of Minnesota. I didn't know any of that until I overheard some people talking about how he was going to proposetoher."
Riley scooped some guacamole onto a chip, but a chunk of it landed on his shorts. It was in an awkward location. If I pointed it out, he'd assume I'd been staring at his crotch. I was already confessing enough truths tonight. I didn't want to add that one tothelist.
"And that got your spidey sensetingling?"
Such a man-child. "Enough that I kept eavesdropping," I said. "They said he was waiting for Match Day—the day in March where doctors are matched with internships and residency programs—because he was hoping they matched in the same area." I paused for a gulp of wine. "I wasn't in the Match. I was finishing my fellowship, and I'd already accepted an offer to stay here inBoston."
"How diditend?"
"Quietly, at first," I said. "It was like he was slowly sneaking away. Then, when he and his girlfriend both matched at Hopkins, it got loud. And why not? He had a spot in a top program. He could run his mouth to residents and attendings all he wanted. Tell them about theclose, personallearning experiences he'd gotten. Or joke with his fellow interns aboutworking the systemto his advantage, and warn incoming interns that I'd make one of themmypet."
"What a douche waffle," Riley murmured. The guacamole was still on his shorts. "Did you kick his ass? I bet you've got a hell of aroundhouse."
I decided against asking him to explain any part of that. "No, of course not. I didn't want to call any more attention to the situation," I said. "And the only things that should matter are my surgicaloutcomes."
He stared at me for a long beat, the corner of his mouth tipped up in a wan grin. "Doesn't sound like that approach is working too well for you,Honeybee."
With a pathetic sigh, I dumped the remainder of the wine into my glass. Thank god I had tomorrow off. I could pay for these indulgences by lazing in bed all morning and then wander the aisles of the grocery store, all while planning the amazing meals I'd prepare this week. If I knew anything about cooking, of course. But I really enjoyed thumbing through the pages ofFood & WineandEverydayFood.
"This cocktail party?" Riley asked, scraping the bowl for the last of the guacamole. "Let's do it. We're gonna show those fuckerssomething."
"What?" Iasked.
Goddamn it, I had to stop sputtering over everything this guy said. He wasn'tthatpretty.
Okay, yes, hedefinitelywas.
"I will go to this cocktail party with you," he said, careful to enunciate every wordslowly.
I wasthis closeto telling him he didn't have to offer because I didn't want his help or pity or misplaced sense of chivalry. That was his motivation, I knew it. He was a player and a man-child and St. Bernard of a boy, but something about him was so fucking loyal that it hurt. He didn't even know me but he wanted to save me the lingering effects of a douchewaffle.
But before I could reconsider, I was saying, "It's two weeks fromtonight."
"I'll be there," he said. "Any other events on yourcalendar?"
"Yes—no—I mean, wait," I said, holding up my hands. "This is ridiculous. You're not evenmytype."
"You're not my type either, Honeybee." Riley scooted to the edge of his chair and leaned forward, dropping his palms to my knees. Now the guacamole was irrevocably smooshed. "You don't want to attend this cocktail party alone. I don't want to attend RISD Weekend alone," he said. "It would be a mutually beneficial arrangement, andnothingelse."
"It's never going to work," I said. I could already hear Mrs. Chapelton's questions about ourcourtship. She always knew when someone brought a second cousin along, and she didn't take kindly to fraudulent relationships. Someone really needed to have a conversation with her about the arrival of this century and all its social conventions. "We don't even know each other,and,and—"
"I'll buy you dinner sometime this week," Riley said. "We can cover thebasics."
I dragged my eyes away from his big hands on my legs and the way his thumbs were pressed against the backside of my knees. I didn't even have the presence of mind to snap back about buying my own damn dinner. "Why don't you want to go to this weekend thing alone?" Iasked.
He tipped his head from one side to another, and his brows wrinkled in a way that had my fingers itching to smooth out the lines. "My ex-girlfriend will probably try to eat my soul, or at least trap it in a jar," he said. "I need a little distance from that, but I have to attend the event. It's homecoming, basically, for Rhode Island School ofDesign."
"I've never been to Rhode Island," I said. "Actually, I've never been anywhere else in NewEngland."
His brows furrowed harder. "That's a tragedy," he said. "But I can cross Rhody off your list, if you're upforit."
He shrugged and squeezed my legs. It was probably intended to be friendly or comforting, like a pat on the back. I couldn't imagine that he was trying to remind me that I'd eliminated men—and flirting and sex and intimacy—frommylife.
"What else can I do for you?" Riley asked. "This cocktail party is only a couple of hours but you're giving me two, maybe two and a half days for RISD Weekend. What else doyouneed?"
A whole lot of filthy streamed through my mind. "Um," I said, just praying that I didn't letyour scruffy chin between my legsslip out. "There'saball."
