“Old friend of the family,” I said. “Planning for my post-retirement life. Thinking of going back to school.”
“Oh, wow!”
“This is Jolene,” Franky said. “She works for the department part-time and is also a very talented malacologist. Jo, I’m taking a quick lunch in my office before the graduate seminar.”
“Got it! Do not disturb.”
We headed inside her office, which was about what I expected. Books and papers covered every shelf and surface, while the walls held diplomas and framed art of snail shells. All very Franky.
She moved to a small fridge and withdrew a minuscule sandwich.
“That’s it?”
“I also have some fruit.” She pointed at a solitary apple sitting on her desk.
“Good thing I came prepared.” I removed two containers from my backpack, along with a bottle of dressing, cutlery, and napkins.
She blinked. “You brought lunch for me?”
“Yep. I’m not convinced you’re taking this nutrition thing seriously, Doc.” I had no idea but seeing that sandwich firmed my resolve. “I made a salad, and before you can say ‘kale sucks,’ be aware that you won’t even notice it because the dressing is so damn good.”
I set it all out on her desk while she looked on, incredulous.
“You made the salad from scratch?”
“Yep. The dressing, too.” I opened the salad bowls and let her gaze at its colorful glory. Leafy greens, grilled chicken, hard-boiled eggs, vine-ripened tomatoes, red onions—all miraculously still in place despite traveling in my backpack. “And not a nut in sight.”
“This is awfully kind, Jason.”
I wasn’t doing it to be kind. I was doing it because I cared about her well-being and the well-being of our kid.
“Now let’s eat, and then we can talk.”
We sat in surprisingly companionable silence, which was usually hard for me because I was chatty by nature. Something about the doc calmed me, though, even when I was mad as all hell at her. When we were done, I cleaned up, passed her a bottle of water, and told her to hydrate.
“So that guy got your job?”
She dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “It wasn’t my job, per se. Dr. Bilson does have quite a lot of leadership experience, and it worked out because now I can devote myself to the baby.”
I supposed I should be glad that her career would take a back seat to our child’s welfare, but something about her statement niggled. I didn’t like the idea that the doc couldn’t have it all, especially when we were in this together.
“He was on the list.”
“Purely to ensure a bias-free method. Now, why do you think I’m trying to cut you out? And what has it to do with our respective sex lives?”
I had to give it to her. The doc didn’t beat around the bush.
“I don’t always express myself well. Along with being annoyed I wasn’t getting to have sex with a hot woman in my niece’s childhood bedroom during a family Halloween party, I was pissed that you were giving me permission to fuck anything that moves. I don’t need your permission, but I sure as hell don’t like the idea that you think I’m so desperate for it, I can’t keep it in my pants for a while.”
She opened her mouth. I held up my hand.
“Not finished. Mostly, I was annoyed about my father sending me a picture of his replacement family, which makes me a total dick because who gets annoyed at seeing pictures of little kids in Halloween costumes? Apparently I do. But I’m guessing I don’t like pictures of my father because it reminds me of his infidelity and how he screwed over my mom. I was possibly projecting some of that onto our situation. I can hardly look like a good dad-to-be if I’m catting around, can I?”
She remained close-lipped.
“That wasn’t rhetorical.”
“Oh, right. So you feel weird about sleeping with someone while the woman carrying your child waits in the wings? And this brings up memories of your father’s bad behavior?”
