I grimace. “He did. He wants to interview me this weekend.”
Unlocking my phone, I show her the message. Her only response is a huff of a laugh.
“What?” I ask.
“I never believed in fate either, but then I met Cam.” A sleepy, dopey smile creeps up her face. “And this feels like more than just a coincidence.” She waggles her killer brows, then furrows them when she catches my expression. “Wait. Are you considering it?”
I shrug, nervous butterflies taking flight in my belly. “I don’t know.”
“What’s stopping you?”
Giving myself a minute to consider her question, I chug myentire glass of water. “A summer camp doctor?” I wince. “I don’t mean for it to sound like the job is beneath me, but a role like that has never been part of my plan. I’ve spent half my life dreaming of and working toward being a doctor in the city, treating primarily women and babies. Maybe finding time to fit spin and art classes into my schedule.”
“What if you helped him out just for the summer?” Joey suggests, perking up. “It would give you something to do while you search for more permanent work, and it would allow him time to find a replacement.”
“That’s true,” I agree, ruminating on the idea for a minute. “There’s no harm in taking the interview. It’s not like I have to accept the job.”
Sitting a little straighter, I unlock my phone and reply to Asher.
Me
Would love to discuss more. Tell me the day and time and I’ll be there
4
Claire
I toldAsher I would be there. I did not tell him I’d be on time. And I did not warn him that I’m notorious for running late. Pauline used to mark my appointments half an hour earlier than the scheduled time, and that worked well. I swear I don’t do it on purpose. I just… I don’t know. Lose track of time? Sometimes I underestimate how much of it I have. Other times I overestimate and am left with extra time, only to realize I’ve suddenly used it all up, plus some, dicking around.
Thankfully, Cam was by my side when I broke the news to our parents that I’d quit. One look from him, and Dad fell in line, expressing his support. He and Mom validated my feelings for a total of five seconds before jumping into fix-it mode, as they tend to do. It’s annoying, but it’s their love language.
The GPS shows I’m five minutes from the camp in Spring Oaks. That means I’ll be twenty minutes late. Shit. It only hits me now that I haven’t actually met Asher in person. He missed Joey and Cam’s engagement party last year due to an illness, and surprisingly—or maybe not, with him upstate and with my busy schedule in the city—our paths haven’t crossed.
I pass under a cheerful giant blue-and-yellow wooden arch that reads Daisy Lake Retreat & Camp, and seconds later, the pavement turns into a gravel road. When I spot a sign for the welcome center, I turn right and snag the last parking spot—lucky me!—then clamber out, nearly forgetting to pull my keys from the ignition in panic.
The welcome center smells more like a spa than a summer camp, with what must be peppermint or eucalyptus wafting from a diffuser on the desk. Behind it is a man in his thirties dressed in a khaki button-down.
“Welcome to Daisy Lake. I’m Brenner. How can I help you?” he asks, his southern drawl taking me by surprise.
“Hi, Brenner. I’m Claire Connelly. I have a meeting with Asher.” Breathing deeply to slow my pulse, I scan the room for the man, though I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a picture of him. Surely I have on Millie’s Instagram, but I can’t remember.
“Ah, yes, Dr. Connelly. Nice to meet you.” The man searches out the window before turning back to me. “Looks like he’s running behind, but I can radio him and find out how long he’ll be.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m fine waiting.” I snag a seat against the wall, grateful for a moment to collect myself.
When Brenner offers me a glass of mint and cucumber water, I tease him. “What, no warm washcloth?”
“Darlin’, this place is nice, but it ain’t the Four Seasons,” he says with a chuckle.
Just as I’m about to ask how long he’s worked here, a man with dark blond hair flies through the front door. His sparkling green eyes immediately land on me.
“Claire,” he pants, saying my name like he already knows who I am.
I set my glass down, then rise and hold out my hand. Hispalm is slightly sweaty, but it doesn’t deter him from gripping tightly and holding the shake longer than necessary.
“You must be Asher.”
“I hope you weren’t waiting too long. Some asshole parked in my spot, and I had to drive back to my cabin then walk.”
