“Oh my God, Willa! It’s the cutest thing ever!”
Before she can say anything, my phone chimes. I pull it away from my face to see a text.
Unknown: This is Dr. Aldridge. I mean Dermot. Your doctor. The guy who gave you stitches today? You cuddled my dog?
“Oh my God. I am obsessed with him,” I coo before reading the text to Willa.
“I can’t even,” she purrs. “I bet he’s all shy in the streets, but in the sheets? Holy hell, Doctor, I need oxygen!”
“Oh my God, right? Wouldn’t that be a blast?”
“Lucky bitch,” she mutters, and I snort.
“Let me call you tomorrow. I need to focus.”
“Yeah, for sure. You’re good, though? I don’t need to come over?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine, and you’ve got the boys. No worries. I’ll call Mom if I get to feeling weird.”
She chortles. “Or ask the doctor if he makes house calls.”
That has us both cackling like hyenas. Once we calm down, we tell each other we love each other before hanging up. I cuddle into my pickle pillow that my nephew Adam won me at the Halloween festival and hold my phone out to text him back.
Me: How long did it take you to send me that text?
Dermot: A solid five minutes. I didn’t want to be like, hey, and not explain who I am.
Me: Understandable. You could have just said, Hey, it’s Dermot. And I would have known who it was.
Dermot: I didn’t know if that was true. You got hit really hard.
Me: I wouldn’t forget, but I don’t remember giving you my number.
I’m giggling as the bubbles appear and disappear.
Dermot: I may have looked it up in your chart, but it’s for a good reason.
Me: And what would that be?
Dermot: To check on you. How are you feeling?
Isn’t he a doll?
Me: Noises are a bit iffy, but I feel okay. Just achy.
Dermot: Have you been drinking water and taking it easy?
Me: Yes, Doctor.
Dermot: I’m pretty sure you typed that with sass.
Me: Who, me? Never.
Dermot: Sure. Is your mom over? I didn’t see her car in her spot.
Me: Nope, she went home about an hour ago.
Once more, the bubbles appear and disappear.
