“Well, come home, if you want. I’ll take you to Jake’s. We’ll shoot some pool like the old days.”
Sounds nice. Really nice. But impossible on such short notice.
“I gotta work, Brandon. On call this weekend and going to Florida for Labor Day.”
His tone perks. “Oh, yeah? What’s in Florida?”
“Friend’s wedding.”
“Oh. Then stop being a pussy and take a date, bro. Surely there’s a lady down there willing to go to the beach with a fancy doctor.”
Oh. No, no, no.
Don’t want to tell him.
Can’t not tell him.
“I’m going with Joss.”
He’s quiet for several seconds, and then: “Not smart, bro.”
“I’m aware.”
“Gonna get hurt.”
My eyes fall shut. “I know.”
He sighs. “What can I do? Anything?”
“Just don’t tell Mom.”
His booming laugh vibrates the phone against the granite. “Ash. Have you met Mom? She definitely already knows. Wouldn’t be surprised if she knows the color of my future child’s eyes.”
He’s right. Of course he’s right.
Doesn’t stop me from groaning. Last thing I need is my mother intuiting things like this. The woman has direct access to Jocelyn—and uses it frequently.
“Tell her it was a work thing bothering me,” I say.
He’s still laughing. “All right, little bro. Whatever you say.”
Jocelyn
Your walls don’t have to come down all at once. Maybe you could just add some doors and windows.
—My Therapist
Two days after The Kiss, I’m almost certain Asher is avoiding me. I could have chalked yesterday up to chance—we don’t see each other at work every day—buttoday? Today I witnessed him about-face and scamper off in the opposite direction as soon as I turned the corner onto L&D.
The little weasel.
I slink into the dictation room and plop into a chair.
Are you avoiding me?
Maybe
Why?
