But I hustle out to my car without stopping to book a follow-up. I’ll get the bloodwork done, sure, but I can check my own results through the lab’s online patient portal.
And I’ll monitor my own blood pressure at work. There’s no reason to go back to see Dr. Barrett.
I barely make it back to my condo before my phone rings. To no one’s surprise, it’s my sister.
“So, did you make it to the appointment?” Breanna asks.
“Of course I did. I said I would, didn’t I?”
I can imagine Breanna rolling her eyes. “So how’d it go?”
“Great.” I grab a prepared dinner from the fridge, stab a hole in the plastic film, and stick it in the microwave. I recently started using a service that delivers a week’s worth of single-serve meals every Wednesday, and it’s been a game-changer. All the food tastes kind of the same, but it’s better than anything I’d make myself.
“And what did the doctor say?” she prods.
“That I was lucky to have a sister to nag me to go for a check-up.”
“Drew,” she chides again. “I’m serious. You’re good?”
“Breanna, I’m probably the healthiest guy he saw all day.” I can say this without too much guilt, because it’s probably true. Apart from my borderline blood pressure, I’m very healthy.
“That’s good,” Breanna says, and her sigh of relief makes me feel guilty for giving her a hard time. “It’s just—I worry about you sometimes.”
“I know you do, Bree.”
“What did you think of Kristin?” she asks casually.
Damn. I can usually spot one of my sister’s matchmaking attempts from a mile away, but I missed that one. I must really be losing my edge.
“She seemed competent,” I say innocently. “Checked me in very efficiently.”
“And?” Breanna says suggestively. “She’s pretty, huh?”
“Yeah, gorgeous,” I deadpan. “I couldn’t resist her, actually. I lured her into one of the exam rooms—or maybe she lured me, I can’t remember. You can expect a wedding invitation in a couple of weeks.”
“Drew,” Breanna chides with a laugh. “I just thought you might be good together.”
“You know, Breanna, if your goal was to set me up with Kristin, you could have just invited us both for dinner and spared me the doctor’s appointment.”
“Okay,” Breanna counters. “Come for dinner, then, and I’ll invite Kristin. Would Thursday work?”
Shit. I walked into that one. “I’m not looking for a relationship, Bree.”
“Drew,” she says gently. “Not all women are like Elyse.”
Breanna thinks I was devastated when Elyse broke up with me, and that’s why I haven’t dated anyone since. I haven’t corrected her; if I told her I don’t want to date because I don’t have time, she’d lecture me for working too much.
And if I admitted that Elyse dumped me because I missed her birthday dinner, Breanna would probably ream me out for that too. I’d stayed late to help a colleague with a difficult meningioma case. But I wasn’t on call, and the person who was on call could have helped instead. Elyse knew it, and I knew she knew it.
And maybe subconsciously I wanted her to end it.
“So dinner Thursday?” Breanna prompts.
“Listen, Bree,” I say, “I’m sure Kristin’s a really nice girl, and I don’t want to give her the wrong idea.”
“Okay, Drew. If I promise not to invite Kristin, will you come?”
“Thursday’s not the greatest,” I say apologetically. “It’s an OR day, and I have to finish a research abstract by Friday.”
