CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
HAYDEN
When I stepinto the office later that morning, I’m surrounded by the familiar smell of antiseptic and coffee, the fluorescent lights humming overhead.
Normally the sound grates on me. Today it barely registers.
Everything feels lighter. How could it not after this morning? Hell, after this weekend?
“Good morning, Margaret,” I call out as I pass the reception desk.
She looks up and blinks, staring at me as if I’ve grown another head.
“What happened to the real Dr. Hayden Lawrence? Because you are definitely not him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“For the past year, I’ve seen you walk through thosedoors. Seen you drag your sulking butt to your office. And not once have I seen anything remotely resembling a smile crack on that pretty face of yours.”
“I…smile,” I attempt to argue in my defense.
“I’m not talking about that tight, polite one you give your patients. I’m talking about arealsmile. One that makes me think you’re so full of joy you can’t help buttosmile.”
At her words, I immediately think of Rowan and how she lives her life following joy everywhere she can.
Margaret leans forward, lowering her voice. “Did you meet someone?”
I open my mouth to respond, pausing just long enough for her to notice.
“Oh, my god.” Her eyes widen. “You did.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” She beams, as if I just told her we were doubling her salary. “Don’t worry,” she adds quickly. “I won’t tell Robert. I keep telling him you need to move on. That it’s the healthy thing, but you know how he is.”
Do I ever.
Control disguised as concern.
Grief weaponized as loyalty.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Margaret, but I haven’t met anyone new.”
It’s not a complete lie. Rowan isn’t new.
She’s been in my house for months. In my life in quiet, unassuming ways. Sitting on the floor with Jemmy. Braiding Presley’s hair. Folding laundry in the living room.
But something shifted this weekend.
And I don’t regret it for a second.
Margaret studies me a moment longer, then places her hand on mine, squeezing. “Whatever it is, I’m happy for you. It’s good to see you actually…living again. Happiness looks good on you.”
I don’t respond. Instead, I just give her a small nod and continue down the hallway.
I usually dread this walk. Dread staring at Cora’s portrait as I head toward my office. Am normally overcome with guilt and grief.
Not today.
