Page 77

Cal’s mouth tips slightly.

“He sounds like my kind of guy.”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.

Cal glances over. “If you ever want to talk more about him,” he says, eyes returning to the road, “you can talk to me. I like hearing your stories.”

I look at him.

He says it casually, like he hasn’t just reached into my chest and held my heart.

“About him,” Cal adds. “Or anything. I mean it. You can talk to me.”

My eyes sting again. I squeeze his hand before letting go.

“Thanks.”

The GPS tells him to take the next exit, and the city grows denser around us. Valet stands. Hotel awnings. Women in coats worth more than my monthly rent.

The venue appears ahead, lit gold against the dark.

A building full of people who save lives for a living.

Cal pulls Sheila into the valet lane and puts the truck in park.

Then he turns to me.

His gaze lingers on my face like he’s checking I’m really okay.

“Ready, Doc?”

I take a breath.

“Yeah.”

He opens his door, then pauses.

“And Bea?”

“What?”

“You’re going to be a fucking incredible doctor.”

My throat tightens all over again.

I roll my eyes because the alternative is crying in the parking lot.

“You haven’t even seen me treat anyone.”

He shrugs. “I don’t need to.”

I look at the entrance. The women going in are in floor length dresses. He was right about that, at least.

“Your dad’s in there?” I say.

“Yeah.”

“Are you ready?”