“Whatever you want.”
“We could take a walk, get a drink or hit a club.”
“All that sounds good to me.” When we’re on the highway, he looks over at me. “Was it okay for me to ask you out in front of everyone?”
“It was fine.”
“Did your sister and cousin pump you for info when they went after you?”
“What do you think?”
Smiling, he says, “What’d you tell them?”
“Not to overreact. Nothing to see here.”
“Nothing at all?” he asks, crooking an eyebrow.
“Nothing they need to know about.”
He moves his hand from the shifter to my thigh. “Do you know how hard it was to pretend like I barely know you in front of your family?”
The heat of his hand may as well be a branding iron as it sets off a systemwide reaction that has my most essential parts tingling in awareness of him. “How hard was it?”
“So hard.”
Suddenly, we’re no longer talking about pretending in front of my family.
“I’ve thought about you and that night so much since the wedding,” he says. “Have you?”
“Here and there.”
“Are you lying?”
“Maybe a little.” I don’t want to talk about Marcus, especially not with Wyatt, but I want him to know how messed up I’ve been lately. “It’s been a rough couple of months.”
“Because of your ex?”
“That and my mom has been receiving treatment for breast cancer. She had a double mastectomy in January, and now she’s having chemo.”
“I wondered why you ended up staying in Miami after the wedding.”
“How did you know I did that?”
“Instagram.”
“Ah… so you’ve been stalking me?”
“Following. That’s different from stalking.”
I like knowing he thought of me so much after the night we spent together that he cared enough to find me online and wondered why I didn’t go back to New York after the wedding.
“So are you staying here, then?”
“That’s the plan. At some point, I have to go to New York and get the rest of my stuff. My cousin, who I lived with there, is going to sublet my room. I can’t go back there as long as my mom is sick.”
“How’s your mom doing?”
“The chemo is kicking her ass. It’s been rough. It’s hard to watch her suffer.”
“I’m sorry she’s going through that and that you are, too.”
“She’s a trouper.”
“She’s lucky to have her family supporting her. Are you bummed about New York?”
“Not really. I was planning to move home this year anyway. I just moved up the timeline a little. What about you? What’s up with applying for a job here?”
“I liked Miami when I was here for the wedding. I’ve lived in Phoenix most of my life, and I’m ready for a change. When Jay mentioned the opening at Miami-Dade, I figured why not?”
“Can I ask you something, and will you tell me the truth?”
“Sure.”
“You’re not applying because of me, are you?”
Smiling, he says, “Not specifically because of you, but knowing you live here definitely makes me more interested in the job than I would be if you weren’t part of the equation.”
“I’m not really in a good place for, well, anything.”
“Neither am I.” He sounds sad for some reason.
“Oh, well. Okay, then. I know why I’m in a bad place, but why are you?”
“Things are just weird right now with the possibility of changing jobs, moving cross-country. I’m not sure what’s going to happen.”
“You’ll get the job.”
“How do you know that?”
“They’d be crazy not to hire you. Aren’t you board certified in your specialty?”
“I am, but how do you know that?”
“You’re not the only one who did some stalking.”
Chapter 4
WYATT
Hearing her say that she checked me out online makes me happier than I’ve been in… well… ever. Not only did she think of me after our night together, but she went so far as to search for me. I just hope she didn’t stumble upon my whole story. “What else did you find out about me?”
“I only read your bio on the hospital’s website and found out you’ve published a lot of articles about cardiothoracic surgery and have become a nationally recognized expert and speaker in the area of supporting patients through life-threatening illnesses.”
I’ve put my personal experiences to work in my career, constantly emphasizing the need to treat the whole patient, not just the part of them that’s malfunctioning. “That’s a big interest of mine.” I’m incredibly thankful she didn’t dig any deeper than the hospital website.
“It’s something that’s badly needed. My mother’s oncologist is considered one of the best there is, but he’s got no personality whatsoever. He doesn’t seem to appreciate how terrifying this is for her and us. He’s very matter-of-fact about life-threatening things.”
I wince hearing that. I’ve known far too many doctors who are like the one she describes. “It’s a challenge to train doctors to be experts in medicine and how to manage the wide variety of needs that each patient has. Not to mention the family’s needs.”
“He always makes me feel like a jerk for bothering him when I have to call about something. Usually, I let Maria deal with him because she’s a nurse—and it’s better if I don’t talk to him. I’m afraid I’m going to tell him what I really think of him.”
That makes me laugh as I imagine her ripping the oncologist a new one. “Maybe you ought to tell him what you think. He might need to hear it.”
“I can’t. I’d be too afraid of my mother not getting the care she needs and deserves. But I really want to.”
“You can tell me anything you need to say to him. Standing offer. Call me when you want to scream at him. I’ll always listen.”
“You’re busy enough with your patients. You don’t need some random woman in Miami screaming at you about someone who isn’t even your patient.”
“If that random woman is you, I need that.”
“All this flattery is going straight to my head.”
“I couldn’t wait to see you again.” Way to play it cool, man. Remember how it wouldn’t be fair to let her or any woman get too involved with you? Remember that talk we had before we saw Dee? Yeah, I remember, so fuck off. I held firm to my resolve until she walked into the room at her sister’s house, looking sexier than any woman has a right to look, and just that quickly, I forgot why this isn’t a good idea.
Maybe we could have this bonus weekend before I go back to reality. Who could be hurt by one more weekend?
If the ache in my chest at the thought of not seeing her again is any indication, I could be hurt. And so could she. This weekend has to be it. It just has to be. To encourage anything more would be grossly unfair to her—and myself. “Can I ask you something?”