Babying her was doing the trick, and she slowly was licking up the baby food, already looking perkier. My eyes strayed to open mail I had carelessly pushed aside, and something caught my eye. Feeding Phoebe another bite, I leaned forward and moved it closer as a roaring noise that sounded like a freight train was barreling through the kitchen overtook all other sounds in the house. Words tried to pierce through the noise, but the first thing that made it through my thick skull was sheer panic.
Jenna was offered a job in Wilmington. She could be leaving.
She couldn’t leave.
Not when I…
I couldn’t grasp at the words my brain was trying to form, not when my temper was rising like the steam from the barreling train, but I took a deep breath and pushed it down. I’d never felt more conflicted as I did at this moment, reading over the words.
I shoved the letter away, disgusted and hurt. All this anguish. All this temptation. All this second-guessingeverythingwas for nothing because she was leaving. I ran my hand through my hair and yanked on the short strands, focusing my attention back on Phoebe, but my subconscious was screaming.
I was right.
I was right for holding back.
I took a deep breath because there was something else bubbling to the surface. Something more than the anger and the frustration now that the steam from the train was dissipating. Some big, important, heart-swelling emotion that felt like—
“Hey, Mark,” came Jenna’s tired voice from the foyer.
She looked exhausted and beautiful. My stupid subconscious had miraculously produced a bouquet of roses and a bottle of wine, holding it out like a peace offering to ease the exhausted look on her face.
I’m a fucking lunatic.
I finished the spoonful of food I was feeding Phoebe and stood up, bending down to kiss her. No matter my anger, or disappointment, or whatever twisted emotion I had going on, I was happy she was home. I crushed her to my chest, breathing her in like it would fix whatever was wrong with me, wrong with us.
“Let’s take a look at your girl,” she said, putting both hands on my chest and giving me a tired smile.
She still had a stethoscope around her neck, and she put an old-school black doctor’s bag on the table before bending down to listen to Phoebe’s heart. Then she cooed softly and picked her up, checking her over and paying particular attention to her stitches and incision.
“Okay, Cat-Daddy. She has a minor infection, fever, and is dehydrated. Luckily, I have everything we need here. Kim handled her surgery like the pro she is, so I’m—”
“Wait,” I interrupted, coming up to stand right beside Jenna. “You’re not the one that did her operation?” My anger roared back tenfold, and my eyes flashed red as I stared at her.
“No, one of our students performed the surgery. I was there the entire time, of course.”
“You let a student operate on my cat? Look at her. Obviously, she screwed up because you couldn’t be bothered to do it yourself. Were you too busy considering your move to Wilmington?” I gestured to the letter on the far end of the table.
She gently put Phoebe down on the towel and stood up. Her cheeks were scarlet, and her chest was flushed, but her eyes were no longer soft and hazel. She stood up to her full five-foot-five frame and squared her stance, crossing her arms over her chest and making her tits press against her scrub top.
“Get the fuck out of my kitchen.”
“But, Phoebe,” I said, pointing to the kitten like Jenna didn’t know she was laying there on the fluffy bath towel.
Jenna didn’t raise her voice, and she didn’t move an inch. She only stared at me, unblinking, not moving a muscle.
“I said, get the fuck out of my kitchen.”
I clenched my fists and cracked my neck, staring at her, expecting her to crumble under my gaze. If anything, her eyes got more brutal, and I gave in, like the asshole I was, and walked out, pulling the sliding door closed behind me.
As soon as it was closed, I turned around and slumped against it.
What a dick move.
I was pissed, worried, confused as fuck, and a little turned on seeing her aggressively take charge like that. I knew she’d take care of Phoebe and give her the treatment she needed to feel better.
The real question was, after she fixed Phoebe, what the fuck was she going to do with me?
22 - JENNA
