Carina meets my eyes nervously. “Too late to back out?”
“Way too late,” I murmur, flexing a finger out to brush her arm.
Gremlin suddenly chirps a meow and jumps down from her perch, trotting over and twining herself around Carina’s ankles.
“Hi, pretty girl,” she says softly, crouching to scratch behind her ears. “So nice to see you again.”
Zoe nudges Charlie in the ribs, and they exchange a look that says they’reabsolutelydiscussing this later.
Gremlin purrs loudly, tilting her head to allow Carina to pat her more.
“What thefuck,” Chase breathes from the dining room.
Carina startles and looks up, realizing she has an audience. Everyone is watching from the long wooden table—mugs in hand, forks mid-air. A collective, badly hidden attempt at polite neutrality.
“I—hi,” she says, straightening quickly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be late.”
“No, no,” Chase says too fast. “You’re not interrupting. You’re just—wow. She never purrs, like ever.”
Everyone nods quickly in agreement, like one giant nodding carousel.
“And she bit Jake’s kid once,” he adds helpfully.
“Twice,” Jake corrects with an awkward nod. “Same day.”
Cool. Cool, cool, cool. This is a great start.
“She doesn’t like most people,” I say dryly. “You all know that.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Chase says, making his way over and crouching beside Carina to enter negotiations. “But you loveme, don’t you, Gremmy? Come on, sweetheart. We’ve been through so much.”
Gremlin growls, raising her hackles, and Chase flinches with a shriek.
“Aww, Gremmy, c’mon. We’ve got history!” Chase tries again, extending a finger. “I gave you a piece of smoked salmon earlier, don’t be a bitch, I’ll be your favo—”
Gremlin hisses, flicks her tail, and bolts for the door.
“This feels personal,” he murmurs.
“Youdidtry to put her in a Santa hat once,” Lulu reminds him.
“She looked adorable.”
“She looked like she was planning your murder,” Tamara says.
Carina presses her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh as she takes them all in. I clear my throat, partly to ground myself, partly because I’m suddenly very aware of how exposed this feels.
“Everyone,” I say, pressing a hand to Carina’s lower back. “This is Carina.”
There’s a brief pause, but then the smiles shift. They’ve all met her once or twice—in scrubs and under fluorescent lights, when I was fresh out of surgery, and everyone was asking too many questions she didn’t have time to answer.
But this is different. This is real clothes, real light, real laughter threading the edges of everything.
“Hi,” she says, offering a small wave. “I remember most of you from the hospital.” She glances at the guys. “Especially you four, though my memory is a bit patchy.”
“Probably best to scrub the whole thing from your memory.” Jake nods. “Hutch wasn’t exactly the world’s easiest patient.”
“I was fine,” I mutter.
