Marcy123Marcy: I slept okay. How ‘bout you? Did you get any sleep last night?
DRBen918: I snuck in a couple hours before I had to get to work.
Marcy123Marcy: That’s rough. I’ve had to work on barely any sleep, and it isn’t exactly a walk in the park. Do you want me to leave you alone so you can focus on your patients?
DRBen918: I’m a good multitasker. As long as you’re okay with me taking a little while to reply sometimes, then I can still chat.
DRBen918: Unless you’re busy and don’t have time to talk…that’s fine too. We can just chat later or something.
That same little glimpse of his insecurity makes my nose scrunch up in amusement as I reread his messages.
Seriously, does the guy have any idea how cute he is?
If I were a good friend, I’d say I have to get going, but then I remember who I’m talking about. Dylan will one hundred percent approve of my reason for being tardy if it has anything to do with a cute doctor named Ben. With a smile, I type out my response.
Marcy123Marcy: It’s fine. I’m happy to still message. As long you’re okay with me taking a little while to reply sometimes. ;)
Grabbing my keys off the kitchen counter of my apartment, I lock the door behind me then practically skip down the stairs to my car so that I don’t keep Dylan waiting too long. It also doesn’t hurt that I’ve been dying for some of Bertha’s pancakes. Normally, I would walk, since the diner is just down the street from me, but Dylan only has so much patience.
My phone is stuffed into my purse to keep me from checking it while behind the wheel, even though the anticipation is driving me insane as I hear it vibrate twice. Unable to take it anymore, I pull into the diner’s parking lot, shove my car into park, then dig for my cell.
DRBen918: Deal.
DRBen918: So how do you like your steak?
Marcy123Marcy: As in…???
My phone buzzes another time, and my heart leaps with anticipation, but the message isn’t from Ben. It’s from Dylan.
Dylan: No rush, but I ordered without you. Don’t judge me. Baby is starving. PS- I’m sitting in the corner booth. See you soon!
Shaking away the haze Ben has cast on me, I type my response and pick up my pace.
Me: Just parked. I’ll be right in.
The message shows it’s been read as soon as I grab the door handle of Bertha’s diner and head in her direction.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.”
She waves me off. “No worries. I ordered you a plate of pancakes. Is that okay?”
My stomach grumbles. “Yup. Sounds great. I’m finally getting my appetite back, thanks to a prescription Dr. Bennett gave me.”
“Ooo, I bet it was the same one he gave me at the beginning. Isn’t it the best feeling ever to not feel like you're going to puke your guts out every morning?”
“Right? Morning sickness is the worst. I hate feeling like I’m going to throw up.”
“Same. And Bertha’s pancakes are delicious. I’d hate for you to have to pass them up just because you aren’t feeling well. I’ll never forget the first time I tried them. Grady practically had to force one down my throat.” She laughs at the fond memory, and I join in.
“I remember. I still can’t believe you couldn’t see how freaking gorgeous you were. Are,” I correct myself. “Even pregnant, you’re glowing. Are you anxious to finally have your baby in your arms?”
“Yeah, I’m not going to lie. The last month has been rough. I have my appointment later today, and Dr. Bennett is going to check to see if I’ve made any progress over the past week.”
“Fingers crossed. I bet the days go by slowly in the end.”
She groans. “You have no idea. Every day feels like a week. And can I tell you how sick I am of waking up to go to the bathroom every hour? Which reminds me”––she scowls––“I need to go to the bathroom. If you’ll excuse me….”
Slipping out of the booth, she waddles to the bathroom while I pull out my phone to find another message from Ben.
DRBen918: Rare? Medium? Medium-well? Don’t tell me you like it well done.
What were we talking about?
Oh. Steak.
Marcy123Marcy: Medium-rare. Why?
DRBen918: Because I’d love to cook for you.
DRBen918: Unless you think that would be weird.
DRBen918: And if you do think it’s weird, then I was joking. Definitely joking.
DRBen918: But if you don’t think it’s weird…I’d love to make you dinner to apologize for ditching you last night. What do you say?
DRBen918: Also, on an unrelated note. How awkward did I just make this conversation on a scale of one to ten?
I’m grinning like a loon as I scan his messages.
Marcy123Marcy: Like a six? And I love a good slab of meat. Lol Steak sounds great. What day works for you? Just a hunch, but I’m going to go ahead and say that your schedule is a little busier than mine.
“What are you smiling at?” Dylan asks, making me jump a mile in the air as I register her voice.
Clutching my chest, I gasp. “You scared the shit out of me!”
Her amusement echoes throughout the diner as she plops back down across from me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Who were you texting?”
“No one.”
Gaze narrowing, she rests her elbows against the table and stares me down like a seasoned cop. For all I know, she probably picked up the interrogation tactics from her brother-in-law. “You sure about that? ‘Cause you totally just looked like you got caught with your hand in the proverbial cookie jar.”
Bertha sets two plates full of buttermilk pancakes in front of us before I have a chance to respond. “Here you go, ladies. Flag me down if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, Bertha!” we call in unison to her retreating form.
The syrup is still warm as I drizzle it on my breakfast while simultaneously ignoring the suspicious look on Dylan’s face.
Shoving a big bite of deliciousness into my mouth, I glance up at her before rolling my eyes.
She crosses her arms with a look that says, I’ve got all day.
“Have you been practicing that look?” I ask after swallowing my bite of pancakes. “Because you’re gonna nail the whole bossy parent thing.”
With a grin, Dylan quips, “Why thank you. Thank you very much. Now answer the––”
My phone buzzes on top of the table, and she strikes faster than a snake, scooping it up and reading the notification.
“Doctor Ben nine-one––Oh my gosh, is this Dr. Bennett?” Her eyes light up. “Are you texting Dr. Bennett, Marcy?”
My nose scrunches, but instead of answering her, I shove another bite of pancakes into my mouth.