I set the phone down on the table with a sigh. There’s no point in trying to lie, even though the same nagging feeling of guilt remains. “I have plans.”
“What kind of plans?”
“Drinks. With a… friend.”
He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes when I shift in my seat. “You’re going on a date.”
“Karen invited me out and I—” I pause before I start explaining myself like some sort of cheater. I’m not cheating. Jess leftme. “I think it might be time to get back out there.”
I brace myself for anger, for him to call me out, to defend his sister’s honor. But none of that happens. The corner of his mouth twists into a smirk that makes me want to shift in my seat again.
“Well, shit,” he says with a dry laugh. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“It’s not—” I look away, hating what he’s implying. “It’s not like I want this. But I don’t have a choice anymore. Jess left, and it’s time to move on.”
“Hey,” he says around his sandwich, and I question my sanity as my eyes drift back down to his shirt, tight around his arms. “I ain’t judging. You ask me, you and Jess should’ve broken up a long time ago. I never knew what you two saw in each other.”
That makes me frown. “You did?” We had our moments, but back when he was around more, I figured we were pretty happy. The discontent came later, with responsibility and our careers and children—
“Yeah, I mean—” He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Never figured my sister to be the marriage and kids type.”
“It always seemed to be something she wanted,” I challenge. Jess never said anything to me about not wanting the life we had.
“Maybe so, but you gotta admit, she ain’t all that empathetic.”
“She is—”
“Dude, look who you’re talking to.”
“You’re not exactly the best judge of character.” I narrow my eyes, my hands tightening around the armrest. Who does Will think he is, talking about Jess like that? Our marriage? Last I heard, his own relationship history wasn’t much to speak of.
Besides, he wasn’t even there.
He nods, like I’m confirming something in his head, and that angers me more. But I don’t want a repeat of our argument the other week, so I force myself to move past it.
“I need to feel like a person again,” I say, and it sounds pathetic, but that’s where I’m at. “That’s what Friday is. I’m not looking to fall in love. I just want to spend time with someone who isn’t my kids or my patients. Is that so bad?”
Will’s eyes stay on my face for an absurd amount of time, but whatever he sees, he must decide to take pity on me. “Alright. I’ll watch the kid.”
I blink. “What?”
He picks up his chips, stuffing way too many in his mouth with a shrug. “I’ll watch him.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I don’t mind. I like kids. Kids like me. I’d be a great babysitter if I wasn’t a criminal,” he says plainly, and I have to choke back my laugh.
That’s not funny at all.
We sit there for another few minutes in the quiet of the breakroom, the only sound coming from the front where the phone rings and Victoria answers. It’s almost comfortable, in a way it’s never been between us before.
When he gets up to go back to work, I call his name, and he stops without turning around, a big hand resting on the door frame. He has paint on his knuckles. “Be over by five.”
“Sure thing, Doc.”
I lose track of time, charting, catching up on work I should have already finished. I fall into the rhythm of it, updating notes, calling patients with results, the kind of work that I can do without thinking too much about it.
By the time I look at the clock, it’s nearly seven.
