“Not really an office kinda guy,” he went on. “But she’s upset that I’m gone for three or four nights every week.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Don’t know yet,” he said. “It’s all kind of taken me by surprise.”
The only surprise was that it hadn’t happened sooner. “I know you’ll do what’s right for you.”
“Yeah, but it’s not just about me anymore.”
I started walking toward Whit’s street again. “I hear you. I’m just saying you’ll know what’s right.”
“I hope so.” He cleared his throat. “What are you doin’ tonight? Or do you have to get into bed early because it’s a school night?”
“I’m on my way to work on surgical skill stuff.”
I loved Mason like a brother, but there was no way in hell I was breathing a word about Whit to him or anyone else at this point. I wasn’t superstitious but I also wasn’t stupid.
“That does not sound like a whole lot of fun, my man,” he said. “Better you than me.”
“Hit me up if you want to talk through any of this stuff,” I said as casually as possible. “You know where to find me. Even if I can’t answer right away, you know I’ve got you. Right?”
“No doubt.”
We ended the call and I rounded the corner from Joy to Derne Street, and then down to Temple. Whit lived on one of those Beacon Hill streets that didn’t look like it was meant for this century. It was only a few blocks away from my place, but it felt like a slightly different world. Brownstone homes lined the narrow street and the brick sidewalks were topsy-turvy from decades of tree roots jabbing up from below. Even a few hitching posts along the way.
I climbed the steep, winding stairs to the third floor. I knocked, reminded myself not to fuck this up, and waited.
And waited.
I glanced around to make sure I was in the right place and checked my watch, and I was on my way to texting her to confirm we were still on when the door swung open. Whit held up a finger as she waved me inside, her phone pressed to her ear.Just a sec, she mouthed.
I nodded as she continued with her call—it sounded like a possible donor organ match and that was important—and seized the opportunity to get a look at Whit’s place. It was exactly what I’d expected. Cool, sophisticated, and comfortable. It felt like her in here. Real furniture, nice artwork, fresh flowers on the kitchen island. Something was simmering away on the stove and a pair of her heels were kicked off by the door.
She turned to face me as the call ended, motioning between us with the phone still clutched in her hand. She was in jeans and a sweater and flat shoes that reminded me she was just a pint-sized little thing. She was strong in a compact kind of way. Shortand sturdy though I wasn’t sure she’d take that as a compliment. “Sorry about that. I might get called in.”
“I get it.” I held out the box of cupcakes. “For you.”
Her hazel eyes widened as she said, “Oooh. I love this bakery.” She shot me a grin that zipped straight down my spine. “Once again, excellent taste, Dr. Hazlette.”
“It’s the least I can do,” I said.
That seemed to remind her of the stated purpose of this visit. “You’ll be able to do a few more things better before the end of the night and, with any luck, do them a hell of a lot faster than you have been,” she said, producing a box of nitrile gloves and surgical kits from a cabinet. “Glove up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I rolled up my sleeves and pulled on gloves as she grabbed a whole chicken from the fridge. When she set it in front of me on the island, I blinked down at it for a second. “What…am I doing with this?”
“Start with a clamshell incision,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve observed plenty of that in Dr. Salas’s OR.”
“With a chicken,” I said.
“It’s better practice than you think,” she said from the stove. “I hope you like Hatch chile stew.”
I shot her a glance as I set the surgical instruments on the countertop. Goddamn, she was pretty. There were times when my chest hurt just from looking at her. “I’m sure I will. That’s a New Mexico thing, right? The chiles?”
She bobbed her head as she moved a spoon around the pot. “Yeah. I didn’t really appreciate chile season while I lived there, but there are times now when I miss it.”
“Did you like growing up there?”
Whit moved to the other side of the island, watching while I examined my patient.
