It's Complicated by Julia Kent (12)

Chapter Twelve

With a headache the size of a doctor’s ego, Alex’s day couldn’t have started off any worse. He’d come in to work at 5 a.m. to meet quickly with a small group of administrators and one lawyer. Funny how none of his fellow physicians were in the room. Medicine by litigation was a harsh reality these days. Every action had to be thought of in terms of a potential lawsuit.

By 6:15 the meeting was over and his headache had dissipated somewhat. So far, the baby in the case was doing fine, though still in the NICU. Being peppered with questions designed solely to test his professionalism and judgment hadn’t been pleasant. He had run through the details of the birth in his own mind a thousand times over the past few days, questioning and playing Monday-morning quarterback. It was a judgment call.

The lawyers had made sour faces when he’d said as much.

More meetings would come.

More headaches, too.

“You look nice today,” said a pinched voice. Alex was waiting for the elevator to take him downstairs, to catch a train and meet Josie at seven. The voice belonged to Lisa, who clutched a chart to her bosom and smiled.

“Thanks,” he said, distracted. The vise grip on his eye sockets didn’t help. He fidgeted with his tie, finally sliding it off. Wearing these stiff clothes—a starched oxford, dress slacks, grown-up shoes, and the tie–didn’t help his headache. Anything other than casual clothes and scrubs made him feel like a phony.

“How’s the case going?” she asked, moving closer, speaking in a conspirator’s whisper. “I heard someone higher up has a bug up their ass about you.”

“What?” He’d carefully shielded himself from office politics like this. The gleam in her eye was precisely why. Some people viewed this kind of social volleying as a game. Alex didn’t play games.

Other than the games that involved chasing Josie in her panties…

“Rumor has it you were distracted. Didn’t read the strip properly.” Of course he had! The contractions were—oh, he’d gone over this in the endless loop in his mind.

“Rumor is wrong,” he spat just as the doors opened. She followed him on, pushing a button for the second floor.

“It must suck to have your professional judgment questioned.”

“You think?” Keeping the acid tone out of his voice just wasn’t happening. Her eyes widened; he could see her expression, a silver blur, in the brushed stainless steel doors.

“Maybe you’re just…busy.” His toes nearly curled inside his shoes with the implications dripping from that word.

He snorted. “Which residents here aren’t busy?”

“You have a new kind of busy in your life, Alex.”

“Lisa, spit it out. I don’t have time or energy for this kind of passive-aggressive garbage.” Angry and frustrated, he let himself vent, turning her into an easy target. She didn’t make it hard, but it wasn’t fair to her. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them.

And yet it was the truth.

“You were…busy that night in the on-call room, Alex. One of the other shift nurses saw you in there with that Josie woman.”

Lisa had him there. The birth had happened later that shift, shortly after Laura’s baby had come.

“If three different attendings, two lawyers, and eight thousand hospital administrators can pore over those files and say I did everything correctly, Lisa, I’m not too worried about the titters of one shift nurse who claimed to see me taking a break in an on-call room,” he snapped back, regret gone—poof!—replaced by outrage.

A wily smile graced her lips as the doors opened and she walked out. He jabbed the “Close” button and nearly punched the wall as the elevator made its way to ground level.

What the hell was wrong with him? Disappointment and humiliation poured over him like an acid bath. Years of striving to be the laid-back, low-key doctor who loved births and enjoyed supporting new lives as they emerged into the world could come to a painful reconsideration if this didn’t go well.

And most of all, a baby lay in the NICU. Fortunately, there should be no long-term complications, but the breathing problems were serious enough to warrant further observation. Could he track the specific issues back to some choice he’d made during the birth? No. And neither could the lawyers.

But that didn’t absolve him from the racking feeling of guilt and doubt that plagued him.

Comments from Lisa, casting aspersions on his attention level that night, didn’t help.

Speaking of distractions, as he headed for the subway he realized he needed to discard as much of this as possible from his mind, purging the negativity. Seeing Josie for morning coffee meant getting a fresh start at something that should have gone very right, but somehow got derailed.

He didn’t need to question his judgment in yet another arena of his life. What he needed was to get back to living. Not worrying or second-guessing. As the escalator took him down into the dark cave of the T line, Alex’s grit and determination shored up. Josie could blow him off, but she’d have to do it to his face, and with a full awareness of what he felt for her.

Anything less would leave him looping endlessly through his own actions.

And he’d had plenty of that today. No more.

*

Tap tap tap. Josie’s foot bounced against the thick table leg like a jackhammer on Ritalin. Although she’d already had a two-shot espresso and now nursed a latte, it wasn’t the caffeine that fueled her nervous movement. What a strange situation. Being pursued. Men didn’t do that with her. They didn’t keep trying. Once she decided to weed them out of her life they complied, a mutual agreement that it was over coinciding beautifully with the fact that it was over. Whatever purpose they’d served was over and she just moved on with her life. Done. The end. Fin.

Not Alex. Damn him! Ignoring him had been one of the hardest intentional acts of her life. The texts begged for a reply. His voicemails, with the warm, soothing tones of his voice, made her nearly cry—and nearly start dialing. An act of constant restraint kept her from responding, knowing she was being foolish. Her conversation with Laura yesterday confirmed that.

She was a fool.

Her heart stopped as she caught sight of him a few steps from the front door. Like those scenes in movies where everything suddenly shifts into slow motion, Josie eyed him from head to toe. The button-down oxford business shirt, crisp blue. The black dress pants, probably from a suit. Wingtips that would fit in at any financial institution on State Street. Freshly cut hair and a clean-shaven face. A slightly worried look creasing his brow. Intense brown eyes that seemed impossibly deep.

His arm reached forward to open the door, the curve of his bicep tight against the cloth of his shirt. If the scene had a soundtrack it would be lurid and sensual, sultry and tantalizing.

What the fuck was wrong with her?

Why wasn’t she with him?

Laura was right.

Laura was sooooooooooooooooo right.

Every fiber of her being, nipple to clit to brain, strained for him. Their eyes locked. The expected friendly smile and wave didn’t appear. Instead, his eyes narrowed, and he stopped a few steps inside the small coffee shop, hands planted on his hips. The shirt was unbuttoned at the top, a smattering of chest hair poking out. She licked her lips; he was smoking hot in dress clothes, such a departure from his casual look. He could be a CEO or a quant or a tech director. Or, he could be none of those and strip out of the striking outfit and be naked with her in her bed.

Or on the baseball field.

Heat poured into her core and she shifted, painfully aware of how sensitive she was, how her body ached for him.

And then his eyes stayed riveted to hers as he smiled, a grin so ferocious and predatory she felt the oxygen in the room disappear.

Oh, fuck me now, she nearly begged.

“Josie,” he said simply.

“Alex,” she rasped.

“You got coffee already,” he said, clearly disappointed.

She shrugged. Words were gone. She could grunt in Morse code if forced.

Holding up one finger in a gesture designed to buy him a few moments, he entered the line. This gave her a great view of his ass for precious few seconds. Something about men in business dress had always made her pause and take notice. Maybe it was because so few men in her life had worn anything other than t-shirts and flannels. Perhaps it was the medical world, where scrubs and lab coats were de rigueur.

Or, perhaps, she was just really enamored of a grown-up, hot as fuck Alex standing there, just being.

Being hot.

What was Morse code for “I’ll get the rope while you draw up the contract”?

Drink in hand, he took a seat next to her. Heat emanated from every inch of his body, his posture different today. More powerful. Tense.

Angry?

Not at her, though. She could feel it. There was relief and happiness and attraction. But something she couldn’t put her finger on lingered beneath the surface. Animalistic and fierce, it seemed to have consumed Alex, though he did a good job of hiding it. A subtle shift, but she picked up on it. Finely honed skills in reading people, cultivated from years with an emotionally erratic mother, meant that she constantly scanned the emotional state of the person she was most invested in.

And that was Alex right now.

Whether he still liked it or not.

Having expected irritation or annoyance directed at her for blowing him off, this was a different animal (pun intended) altogether. His eyes were a bit wild and he carried himself with a more aggressive stance, eating the room as if it were his. The laid-back, grounded man she’d met at Laura’s birth was still there, but with an edge.

She liked the edge.

“Thanks for meeting me,” he said, toasting her with a white coffee cup. Laughing, she joined him. Both sipped in silence and she found herself grateful for his persistence. Mornings were the worst lately, the loneliness more acute. Her own stupid—what? Pride? Fear?—had made her clam up and stop responding to him. Alex coming to the research trial with Ed was brilliant. And yet….

“You knew who I was when we first met at Laura’s birth, didn’t you?” she asked, bold and open.

His shocked look told her he wasn’t expecting that. “Yes,” he said simply. “I’d been taking Grandpa to his appointments for a few months and had…” His voice trailed off. Curling one fist, he leaned in, then relaxed his hand. “Had noticed you.”

“Noticed me?”

“That’s code for ‘was too much of a wimp to ask you out.’” He drank half his coffee in one long swallow.

“So instead you nearly fucked me in the on-call room at my friend’s birth?” Two women chatting next to them stopped, one leaning closer. He watched Josie take a dainty sip of her drink, her head tipped down, eyes looking up at him.

Alex began rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It’s getting crowded in here,” he declared, standing. He reached for her elbow and guided her up. “Let’s go for a walk.” No choice. It was an order.

She obeyed.

“Not a wimp move,” she hissed. They both picked their cups up and drank greedily, downing more of their morning joe.

“What? Asking you to go for a walk?”

“And the sex in the on-call room.” His hand reached out to the small of her back to guide her out the coffee shop’s door. A tingle of excitement zipped through her as his palm warmed her. God, she’d missed him.

“There wasn’t any sex in the on-call room.”

“Only because someone else’s vagina was ‘Exit Only’ at that moment. My ‘Enter’ sign was forty feet tall with rhinestones and blinking LED lights. And an eight-piece brass band. With tubas and everyth—”

The crush of Alex made her shoulders go flat against the brick wall he pulled her next to, her arms up in the air, one holding a coffee she instinctively preserved, the other snaking through his hair as he kissed her with such ferocity her lips felt bruised. They’d dipped a few feet into a small alley around the corner from the firehouse museum, and as he raked her mouth with his tongue, all fire and need, she saw the bored morning walkers going about their business as if she weren’t being ravaged a few feet away.

He smelled so good, and tasted like coffee and hope.

“Don’t do that again,” he growled, one hand on her waist, the other casually holding his coffee cup.

“Don’t what?”

“Shut me out.”

Swallowing hard, she tried to think of what to say.

“I mean it, Josie,” Alex added, his eyes hard and soft all at once. The pulse at his jawline throbbed, his muscles tight. “I’ve had my eye on you for months, and it felt like fate the night you came in with Laura. It was fate. Everything from that moment made sense with you. All of it.”

“Alex, I—”

He was breathing hard, the heat of his exhales pushing against her neck.

“I was so worried about coming on too strong. Maybe you faded back because I wasn’t direct enough.” One knee pressed between hers, his core pushing hard against her, their abdomens so close she could feel his heartbeat through a very obvious erection.

“I won’t make that mistake twice,” he added, punctuating the thought with a slower, unraveling kiss that made her stand on tiptoe to savor every bit of his mouth. Her hands loosened and she felt the coffee cup slide down, crashing to the ground, a light splash of liquid registering on her ankle, the taste of his soft tongue so exquisite she felt like she shifted into a new dimension. A vague, muted sound told her Alex dropped his coffee as well as his heat pushed into her, his lush skin sliding against her cheek, the sound of his breath like a dare.

Something between them began to buzz.

“Is that a vibrator in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” she murmured against his mouth.

Pure delight poured out of him, the old Alex returning fast with his laughter as he broke contact with her, pulling back. Rummaging through his pocket, he found the offending phone. “Damn it. Work. Gotta go.”

The march of people past them, to the left, was a blur of faceless bodies and feet, as if their heads weren’t there. The alley seemed so detailed, in contrast, and every part of Alex’s appearance, from the button on his collar that wasn’t quite all the way through the button hole to the streak of her lipstick on his lips, seemed rich and coarse and solid. Real.

The hard, aggressive Alex was still here, but reduced by half. The man who stared back at her had a decisiveness that mixed with his openness and invited her in.

Invited himself in.

Open the door, Josie. Say yes. That was Laura’s voice.

Yes. That was hers.

Josie’s own voice replied. “When can I see you again?” she asked.

The worried look came back as he read something on his phone. Shoving it in his pocket, he shook his head slightly, as if banishing the thought. “Whenever you want.” His hand slipped around her waist and he kissed her lightly on the lips.

A brief thought of Ed, of his decline, her conversation with Gian, hit her. Should she bring it up now? No. Not yet.

Bzzz.

“Damn.” He kissed her cheek and began to walk away. “I really do have to go. Just text me. Promise?” Walking with purpose, he marched off.

“Promise,” she whispered to no one.

Promise.

*

“Something’s wrong with him,” Josie began as she marched into the cabin Laura, Mike and Dylan shared. Then she did a double-take and made a low whistling sound.

“Holy shit.”

“It’s a little messy,” Laura confessed.

“And my fingernails are a little over the top.” She flashed her hands at Laura. They spelled I-heart-J-I-L-L-I-A-N-heart. The hearts were bright red, the nails pink and white.

The cabin looked like a baby bomb had exploded in it. Burp rags covered the back of every chair or couch. A hamper full of laundry was next to a spot on the couch with an end table littered with large, empty glasses and plates that held what appeared to have once been pizza. A few empty salad containers littered the area. Breast pads were stacked neatly next to the table.

And then there was the giant pile of laundry on the floor.

That moved.

“Jesus Christ!” Josie shouted, jumping back. A leg stuck out from under a pile of towels. The leg was attached to an underwear-covered ass and a naked chest.

Dylan was sound asleep in a pile of clothes in the middle of the room, snoring lightly. His arm curled under his head like a pillow.

Josie pointed. “What’s that?”

“Dylan.”

“Not who. What?”

“He’s tired,” Laura whined. “We all are. Mike’s probably out there asleep in his Jeep.”

Josie shot Laura a confused look. “His Jeep? Are you guys fighting?”

“No!” Laura wailed, pacing back and forth with the baby in her arms. Cherubic and serene, she was so sweet looking. The rosy-pink skin and a smattering of baby acne on her nose reminded Josie of how tiny and new Jillian really was. A breathy snort came from the baby, whose mouth puckered and suckled in the air.

“Then why is he in his Jeep?”

“He pretends he’s going for a run but every time he does that I look out there and he’s asleep in the front seat.”

“Um…why?”

Laura pointed at Dylan, who was now spooning with a nursing pillow and a beach towel. “Same reason as that. We’re completely wiped.”

Josie reached for the baby and Laura transferred her as if handing over a live grenade. “Don’t wake her. I just got her to sleep.” The handoff successful, Josie marveled at how lightweight the baby was. Wrapped in a pink fleece blanket and wearing a jumper with characters from an Eric Carle book, Jillian was a piece of perfection in a sub-ten-pound body.

“Thank you! Hang on,” Laura said as she dashed out of the room. The distant sounds of a toilet flushing and running water were followed by Laura’s reappearance. Josie wandered into the kitchen and searched for the coffeemaker. The countertop was covered with what looked like every dish in the house, two nursing bras, more burp cloths, and about nineteen coffee mugs, all containing anywhere from one to two inches of coffee.

But no coffeemaker.

Deciding to grab a cup of milk instead, she opened the refrigerator to find—

The coffeemaker.

What the hell? Jillian wiggled in her arms, making Josie freeze in place. How could someone so placid and sweet cause her three friends to fall apart like this? Something more must be going on. No one falls apart this fast from just having a little baby, right?

“Oh! You found it. Dylan said he couldn’t remember where he put it this morning.” Acting like it was no big deal that someone had shoved an entire ten-cup coffeemaker next to a bag of fennel in the fridge, Laura hauled it out, shoved a clean spot into the detritus on the counter, and plugged the machine in. Josie gingerly picked up trash from the counter and began throwing it away, trying to help.

“Don’t you guys have a cleaning service?” Josie asked.

“Louisa’s sick,” Laura said. “Of all the weeks.” With ruthless efficiency, Laura had coffee brewing in under ninety seconds, and turned to Josie, stretching her arms up in the air, giving Josie a front-and-center view of her right breast.

“Uh, Laura….” she said, pointing. The nursing shirt Laura wore had a vertical slit, like crotchless undies, and as she lifted her arms to the ceiling it became evident Laura wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Oh.” Laura reached under the neckline of her shirt and did something that made a clicking sound. “My nursing bra was unclasped. Sorry for the peep show.”

“I’ve seen worse.”

“I know you have. You were at the birth.”

They smiled at each other and Josie leaned down to huff the baby’s head. How could she cause such chaos?

“And speaking of the birth,” Laura added, “how’s Dr. Perfect?”

Carrying the smile a bit longer, Josie shrugged. “We had coffee. And a few hot kisses in the alley. I’m thinking about surprising him tonight with Thai and episode five of Downton Abbey.”

Laura pretended to golf clap, miming it to avoid waking Jillian. “Well played. I know you’re scared to death, but you’re doing the right thing.”

“Speaking of the right thing, I need to bounce something off you.”

Laura made herself a cup of coffee and gestured for Josie to go on.

“I already spoke with my boss about this, but I think Alex’s grandpa isn’t getting the meds in our research trial. I can’t be sure, and I would never go into the records and look. It’s a hunch.”

“Did you say anything yet to Alex?”

“No. But I feel like I should.”

“Of course you should! Wouldn’t you want to know if you were Alex?”

“Yes.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Josie sighed. Jillian gurgled and smiled, a crooked grin that made Josie and Laura say “awwwwwww” in unison.

And then the unmistakeable sound of more gurgling, except this came from the diaper.

“Last time she made that sound she shat all the way up to her hair,” Laura said, staying in her position across the kitchen, drinking her coffee.

A spreading warmth coated Josie’s palm, the one that supported Jillian’s ass. “C’mon. You can’t say things like that and then just leave me holding her.”

“Here,” said a deep voice. They both turned to find Dylan standing there, rubbing his eyes. He wore blue boxer briefs, and Josie noted that they were just like Alex’s while trying not to check out Dylan’s bulge. Like she needed that image in her head.

She already knew too much about his body. Too, too much.

“Thank you for wearing underpants,” she said as she handed the poopy baby over to one of her dads.

“You’re in my house. You’re lucky I’m wearing them,” he grunted, turning away. “And save me some coffee!” he called back, cooing at the baby, who was now staring at him in absolute fascination as Laura and Josie watched his butt until he turned a corner and entered one of the back rooms.

“You’re only allowed to stare because I say it’s okay,” Laura said, finishing her coffee. She looked at the counter and said, “Damn. This is really awful.”

“I’ll help. And his ass reminded me of Alex’s, so I was just reminiscing.”

“Why get nostalgic when you can go home and make new memories?” Laura opened the dishwasher and began loading coffee mugs.

“Because if I tell Alex about his grandpa, he might get…squirrelly. Families often don’t want to hear the truth about decline, and Ed might be in a permanent downward spiral. It’s…complicated.”

Laura’s sympathetic smile helped take the edge off her fear. “If you don’t say anything you’ll regret it. Maybe there’s something people are missing. Alex is a doctor. He’s not your average patient’s family member.”

“True.”

Laura waved her hand at the mess. “Why am I cleaning? I have ten precious moments without Velcro Baby attached to me and I’m doing dishes? Ugh.”

“I know. Let’s go to a strip club and get a lap dance. Better use of our time.”

Mike walked in the front door, stretching his calves as if he just finished a run. “Man, it’s gorgeous outside.”

“Yeah, the Jeep has the best weather ever!” Josie shot back.

A sheepish look on his face showed he knew he’d been busted. “I, uh…”

Laura walked over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s okay, hon. We know you were sleeping in the Jeep. You’ve been doing it for the past week.”

“You’ve been what?” Dylan bellowed, entering the room with Jillian on his shoulder.

“Subject change—are you going to work for the threesome dating service?” Mike asked Josie.

Three sets of eyes zeroed in on her.

“No pressure,” she mumbled.

“No. Pressure,” Laura insisted. “Pressure most definitely there. Do it,” she hissed. Dylan rocked in place, mercifully having thrown on some sweatpants. Mike stood over them all, eyes calm but exhausted.

“You’re serious?” Josie asked, incredulous. “I thought Laura was just out of her mind with being 158 weeks pregnant!”

“We’re serious,” the three said together.

“Salary?”

Dylan named a figure. A damn fine figure.

“Benefits?”

“The guy who handles our HR issues at the ski resort can help with the new venture.”

“My own parking spot?”

“Oooooooh, tough negotiator,” Dylan joked. “How about a bowl of red-only M&Ms at your desk every morning and a Justin Bieber butt plug for each day of the week?”

“Why would I want a Justin Bieber butt plug?”

“If you’re going to put that guy’s face anywhere, it might as well be—”

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Jillian’s cry pierced the air.

“I’m not deciding now, guys,” Josie said as Dylan handed the baby to Laura, who reached under her shirt, latching Jillian on with an expert hand that belied her three weeks of motherhood.

“But you’re considering it?” Laura asked hopefully.

No Gian. No Alzheimer’s patients. No worrying about how to break bad data news to various researchers. More money. More flexibility. Working with Laura regularly.

What could be better?

“I am.”

Laura bounced in place with excitement, unable to move because of the baby sucking milk out of her. Josie wondered what it felt like. Was it the same as getting a hickey? It couldn’t be, right? You’d bruise all the time. She just stared.

“Hello? Earth to Josie?”

“What?”

“You said yes!”

“No, I didn’t!” she huffed. “I said I’d think about it.”

“Close enough.”

Mike wandered in to the living room and took a good look at the chaos. “We need to clean this up.”

“And by ‘we’ you mean you and Dylan,” Laura piped up.

“Absolutely.” He leaned over and kissed the top of Laura’s head, then did the same with the now-happy Jillian, who opened her eyes wide and stared up at one of her dads.

“Come over to the dark side,” Dylan called out from the kitchen, then joined the group with his own cup of coffee, plopping down on the laundry on the floor.

They were so happy. Exhausted and messy and overwhelmed—but happy.

Vulnerability didn’t wear well on Josie but Laura and Mike and Dylan showed her that being vulnerable and willing to take emotional risks could be ... a different kind of strength. Being self-contained, Josie was independent, relied on no one; her strength was in her thick skin. She was proud of thinking through every contingency in any given situation, so she was prepared for disaster when—not if—it struck. But maybe the secret to being OK wasn’t to close herself off and keep all the heartbreak at bay.

What if there were a different way to navigate life emotionally? Opening herself up to Alex felt like being flayed emotionally. Stripped of that thick skin.

Alex represented something more.

And Laura was offering something different.

Indecision ate away at her soul. Ed’s deterioration was evident, and Alex had put his finger on something that Josie wished weren’t true. His grandfather was in decline, and nothing anyone said would make a difference, the attempts at denial so obvious that even the people who tried to claim that Ed was fine couldn’t do it with any sort of conviction. In contrast to Ed, other patients on the project, patients who had been at about Ed’s level when they’d started, seemed to be doing so much better. It was as if the fog of Alzheimer’s were lifting.

Too much knowledge tore Josie in half. She felt like Meredith Grey in an episode of that television show, Grey’s Anatomy. In the exact same ridiculous situation where looking into the files to know whether Ed was in the control group or was actually getting the medication that was at the center of the research trial meant jeopardizing the integrity of the project and her job. Josie found herself frozen solid, fear permeating every cell of her body, her brain, and now, her heart. There was no way out.

If she didn’t look up Ed’s status on the research trial, and he wasn’t receiving the medication, he could lose out on the benefits. If she did look up the information, then everyone who was benefiting could lose access to the experimental drug, and there was the tiny, insignificant little issue of violating every ethical and moral tenet of her profession.

Alex was a man of great integrity, of tremendous moral character, and it was part of what drew her to him. Violating that, even for the sake of a higher moral principle, would destroy his sense of respect for her.

Respect. She shook her head and laughed, so deep in her thoughts that her coffee cup went cold in her hand. Respect wasn’t exactly something that she had become accustomed to in relationships, so the thought of losing it created a kind of pain inside her that had no outlet. She inhaled slowly and then let out the breath through her mouth, like a meditative sigh. Alex loved his grandfather dearly. Ed’s daughters all loved him, too. There was a family culture of joyfulness, of love and compassion, and a sense that if you love someone enough, everything will be okay. Too bad Josie wasn’t part of that family.

But she was part of this one.

Jumping up to make more coffee, Josie looked at Mike, Laura and Dylan—of them, chatting happily, Laura leaning back against the couch, eyes closed, stroking Jillian’s little head as she nursed.

For Josie, it was time for something more or something different. She didn’t know what to call it, but as she’d said to Laura when she first started seeing Alex, she was somethinging.

That was a step in the right direction.

Because somethinging was better than nothinging.

*

The bags weighed her down as she walked from the Thai takeout place around the corner from their neighborhood, and the white plastic straps cut into her fingers, but Josie didn’t much care. The scent of peanut sauce wafted up and made her mouth water. Or maybe it watered with thoughts of seeing Alex in a moment. Her stomach gurgled.

Fifty-fifty.

Both needs would soon be satisfied.

Cheerful and excited, she took a huge leap of faith in coming here. After walking past his building three times today, her day off, she had finally seen his car in the driveway. Dinnertime made for the perfect excuse to surprise him. What man could resist a woman bearing pad Thai and chicken satay?

And her heart. Oh—yes. That part. Laura had encouraged her to just jump in and see where things went with Alex.

Impulsivity wasn’t exactly her trademark when it came to her emotions.

Alex, though, was different. Worth being different for.

Struggling with the bags, she set one down and rang his buzzer. Waited. No answer. Was it the kind with an intercom, or would he just—

“Josie?” Alex stood at the door, wet hair, a shirt on backwards.

“Hi!” she said, chipper and overly friendly. Holding up the bags, she added, “You hungry?”

Confusion clouded his features. Had he been showering? Why else would his clothes be on backwards?

Oh.

Oh.

What if she’d misjudged everything and was horribly, painfully wrong? Maybe he’d just been fucking someone else in his apartment, and this was that bleak moment when she realized his interest was just a sham. A vortex of fear opened up before her, an abyss of nothingness, calling her name, beckoning.

And then he stepped forward and smiled. “I am, actually. Come on in.” He planted a kiss on her cheek.

It was the best kiss ever.

Feeling stupid for doubting him, she walked into his apartment a bit dazed, haunted by the sudden horror that had enveloped her, so all-consuming at the thought of Alex with someone else.

“I hope you like Thai,” she said, looking around the apartment. Something was off. Unlike her last visit here, the room was disheveled, as if no one had bothered to do anything for a week or two. Not filthy—just neglected. Items stood where they’d been casually thrown or abandoned. Beer bottles (good beer, she noted) dotted all the tables, along with cereal bowls, spoons adhered to the bottom by dried milk.

Alex caught her looking. “I’ve worked a crazy set of shifts this week, and, well…”

She waved her hand. “I wasn’t judging.”

He laughed, removing the food from the bags. “Yes, you were.”

“Okay, I was. This is more what I expected to see the first time I came over,” she admitted.

“Good. Because this is more the normal me. I cleaned before you came over last time.” His sidelong glance made a part of her melt.

How intimate were they? The kiss in the alley yesterday, his leg pressing between hers, the way his mouth stole all the air and blew a desperate need into her rose to the surface.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Josie said, stumbling over her words. “I just thought I’d pop in and—”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I might have begged off.” The aroma of spicy peanut sauce, lemongrass, and fish sauce filled the small kitchen, making Josie’s stomach groan once more. And then her appetite faded completely as she digested his words.

What did that mean? Should she leave? Was this a bad time? He stood next to her, two feet away, and yet he might as well be on Mars. The red cotton t-shirt was on backwards, blue jeans shorts showing off powerful thighs, and his bare feet were planted firmly on the floor, his body casual and there. Yet a tension ran through every muscle, the lines of his veins straining against his skin, jaw tight and face immutable. A mask.

So much for coming here in a spirit of openness and renewal.

“Is this a bad time?” she asked, taking a step toward the door. Panic rushed into her, like a wave crashing over her on a beach, unexpected and choking, making it hard to breathe.

He seemed to sense her shift and immediately responded, closing the gap between them, arms around her like a rescuer. “No, no, not at all. In fact, I’m really glad you’re here.” A deep inhale from him against her neck made her feel welcome as his chest expanded, filling with her.

“I am so glad you’re here,” he repeated.

*

Josie at his door. Bearing Thai food. If she was wearing crotchless panties then she was the one, no doubt.

Why, then, was he being such an ass? If he didn’t pull it together he’d ruin everything before they could get in a bite of Pad Thai. The second meeting at work today had been far, far worse than the initial one. The parents weren’t suing, the baby was out of the NICU, and everything was fine, but Alex’s judgment was being called into question and it was chipping away at his soul, sliver by chunk. Holding the line on unnecessary interventions and preserving the mother’s wishes for a birth that made sense—within medically responsible boundaries—had never been easy.

Now it was downright grueling, and he didn’t know how to explain to Josie that he was fighting for his soul right now at work.

Why burden her with any of this? None of the other women he’d dated had cared about his stressors. From pre-med undergrad days through med school, he’d kept his professional life separate from his personal experiences, finding most women completely uninterested in what he did. Shining eyes loved the fact that he was a doctor-in-training or, now, a true physician. But they were more enamored with the idea of dating (and, perhaps, marrying) a doctor than with the reality of being with a doctor.

Keeping that line intact would probably be the only way to save his relationship with Josie, already tenuous. He had no inclination to put any of his problems on her right now.

Suck it up, dude, he told himself. A deep breath, inhaling the scent of lavender and coffee that clung to Josie like a second skin, rejuvenated him. He pulled back from the embrace and kissed her softly.

“You read my mind.”

“You were thinking about Thai?”

“I was thinking about you.”

“Clearly you weren’t thinking about your shirt.” She snickered, breaking the embrace and dishing up some noodles. He looked down. Damn it. He’d been in the shower when she’d buzzed and his clothes were thrown on hastily.

Maybe they’d be yanked off just as hastily in the next few minutes. The thought should have excited him, but it only made him feel stunted. Inadequate. As if he’d failed her somehow by not being the centered man she expected him to be, by having his judgment questioned at work. Could it bleed into his personal life? Lately, the stress had.

What else should he question? You had to have at least a touch—even the tiniest taste—of a God complex to become a physician. Especially a surgeon. Alex’s entire life had been built one one major premise: education and hard work will set you free. His compass was that simple, from watching his mother make her way through teen motherhood and poverty to a clinical psychologist’s license and building her own practice through his own educational journey as the child of a poor teen mother.

For the first time in his life he wasn’t being interrogated about his knowledge, or his skills, but rather how he assessed a situation and then acted.

And it sucked.

Sinking himself into Josie was what he needed most. Skin to skin, rolling in bed, making love until his last gasp was her name and all the stress and horror of his internal self-flagellation was gone. Drained. Depleted.

That was what he needed.

Thank God she’d appeared.

*

Josie reached out to touch Alex’s elbow. Saying this was important—she wanted to get it out of the way so it wouldn’t weigh on her this evening A fun evening of food, movies and sex—lots of sex—shouldn’t be marred by her worry. He turned his shining eyes on her, focused completely on whatever she was about to say.

“I did the paperwork on your grandfather’s most recent eval, and he’s…he’s definitely deteriorating,” she said quietly.

Alex closed his eyes and nodded slowly, letting out a long exhale. “I’m not surprised,” he said. “That matches what my mom and aunts have been telling me.”

“Alex, I…I want to be careful here, because I don’t want to cross any ethical lines…”

His face went hard, suddenly, like granite, a look she’d never seen on his face. “Then don’t.” The two words hung in the air, suspended by a tone of judgment.

“Then don’t—what?” she countered, her voice taking on the same hard edge. Perhaps she shouldn’t have brought it up. Their plates sat in front of them, ignored, and her stomach clenched.

“Don’t do anything that would violate your professional ethics, or anyone else’s.”

“What would make you think I would do that?” she hissed back. This was not the conversation she had expected. What the hell had just happened?

“If you’re going to try to tell me,” he said, standing and leaning forward, eyes angry, “that you are at all tempted to find out whether my grandfather is in the control group or is receiving the medication, then we need to stop this conversation, right here, right now.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she protested, hands up, palms facing him, standing up herself. She nearly took a step backwards, simply to give herself distance from the near vitriol in his voice, his disdainful face, the puffed-out chest and the balled-up hands. “I wasn’t implying that I would do anything like that,” she said, her body mimicking his. If she could have stepped up on a stool and been face to face, eye to eye with him, she would have. As it was, she had to look up, craning her neck, and stand up, stand tall, as straight as possible to get her point across. A forcefield of fury buzzed between the two of them, seeming to come out of nowhere.

“You just said that you’re worried that my grandfather’s failing, and that he might…”

“He might what?”

“You were the one who was about to say it,” he answered after a long pause.

“I was about to say that you might want to get a second opinion, or a third opinion, or a whatever opinion,” she said, snarkily, “because Ed is falling apart, and I can’t imagine that he’s going to be safe living independently for much longer. Whether he’s in the control group or not is not something that I’m privy to know, I’m just trying to tell you, as a friend—”

“Friend?”

The acid in his tone made her throat well up with salty tears. Her anger, still there, but now replaced with an ever-increasing layer of hurt.

“Is that what we are, Josie? Friends? ’Cause”—he leaned in, hot breath against her ear—“cause I don’t fuck my friends by the side of the river. I don’t invite my friends over, and make them dinner, and sleep with them. I don’t let them fall asleep in my lap, and cuddle with them, and stroke their hair, and marvel at them. I don’t know what kind of friends you have, but I don’t do that with my friends.” He pulled back.

Her brain raced, trying to process the implications of this conversation. “Fine, then.” She lowered her shoulders, straightened up her neck, and looked him in the eye again. “I’m telling you, as someone who has just interacted with Ed on a professional and personal level, that for whatever reason, you and your mother and her sisters may want to consider getting more opinions on how you can slow down the deterioration that he’s experiencing.”

“And that’s your professional opinion, doctor?” he said, a nasty sneer twisting his face.

Oh, no, he didn’t.

“You went there? Really? You…went there?” she seethed. This was going to be about pulling rank? She was always going to be the cute little nurse, and he was always going to be the big, bad doctor? It was her turn to stick her finger in his face. “I may not be a doctor, and I may not have prescription powers, or have suffered through all the years of med school, internship, residency, and all the other shit that you guys go through, but I can tell you one thing. I can tell with reasonable accuracy, based solely on symptoms, which people are in the control group and which are not. I’m never going to cross a line that would jeopardize a multimillion-dollar National Institutes of Health-funded research project. This isn’t Grey’s Anatomy, and I’m not that Meredith chick.”

He opened his mouth to say something, and she put her fingers over his lips. “You get one chance to pull that with me, Alex. Your chance is over, and you know what else? You had one chance with me”—her voice cracked as the tears that had formed in her throat struggled to take over—“and you just showed me who you really are and what you really think of me.” She marched out the door of his apartment, eyes blinded by tears, and struggled to find her way down the street, to get as far away from him as possible.

*

From the moment that Josie had talked about the medication group versus the control group, Alex’s brain had been on fire. He’d been so careful his entire life, following every rule, never straying, being better than the best, having to over-prove himself, because he was, after all, a reject, right? A bastard.

His professional ethics dictated everything. His sense of honor, his sense of decency, drove everything in him. Violate that, and he might as well lay down and wait for death. As the words had come out of Josie’s mouth, he knew what was coming next, he knew that she thought that she could override the research study’s rules and help his grandfather, and that was when some circuit in his head just blew.

The conversation had gone very wrong, and as he watched her ass get smaller and smaller, as she marched out the back door, her legs pumping her forward as swiftly as possible to get the hell away from him, he deflated. The anger that had made him so righteously indignant, and had triggered all of those words that came out of his mouth, that had seemed to make sense at the time that he said them, was a flashpoint.

She was right, he had assumed, and when he made that crack about her being a doctor, it just…ugh. It was as if he were channeling “The Claw” or one of the other countless pompous asses at the hospital. It was like no matter how hard he tried to keep that kind of viewpoint out of his head, it somehow had seeped in by osmosis, through the process of so many years of med school, and internship, and residency.

He knew he could now go back to her and apologize a thousand times, but it was out there, it was said, and “good guy” Alex was now tarnished.

Self-aware enough to know that the mess at work had just spilled over into his personal life like a goddamned pot boiling over, he sat at the table, the abandoned food still smelling heavenly.

He wanted to punch something.

The yearning inside him that had drawn him to go to the appointment, to ask her out for coffee, still pulled at him. Her form faded as she marched down the street, as far away as quickly as possible from him, and something in him loosened. It was a sense of need. Not sexual need, an emotional need to bring her back, to apologize, to hold her, to have her arms snake around his waist, her cheek pressed against his chest, to go for long walks, to drink coffee, to make her dinner, to explore and have fun, and have not-fun. What would it be like to just do laundry together? To clean the house? To have a baby? To go on big trips? The banal, simple things that everyone took for granted.

Alex trusted science. Rigor, objectivity, measurement, re-measurement, trial and error, replication. All of those principles were absolutely critical for a drug’s success. You couldn’t do much of that with emotions. Could you measure them? Not really. Could you be objective? Hell no. Could you be rational at all times? If you could, he wondered how that would feel. He did a pretty good job of being mellow, but on the inside, he was just as wracked with indecision and confusion as everyone else, maybe to a lesser extent, but those feelings still ricocheted inside him.

Half stalking her at work when she hadn’t replied to his many communication attempts, he hadn’t been sure whether she wanted anything to do with him. Perhaps she was spurning him by not answering him, but now? Now he was certain he had managed to make her believe he was just a big asshole.

*

Her phone rang. Great. She cringed and held her eyes half shut, like watching a horror movie scene you can’t bear to handle full-on, as she looked at the phone number. Not Alex. Whew.

Why was that whew tinged with disappointment?

Darla. Her niece. Cousin. Whatever you call her. Her cousin who was seven years younger and who called her Aunt Josie because Josie had helped raise her. Josie picked up the phone.

“Darla, what the hell are you doing calling me?” That was one hell of a way to greet someone, but Josie knew this wasn’t going to be good news. Someone had died, her mother was in jail, or Darla was pregnant. Or maybe it was buy-one-get-one-free day and two of those had happened.

“Oh, just slumming.” Darla’s tone was clear—Josie was being a jerk.

She softened and laughed. “You okay? You finally going to take me up on my offer to move out here?”

“Nope,” Darla replied, the word clipped and clear. Hmmmm, Josie wondered. No mention of a death or jail. That must mean…

“That’s not what I want to talk about.” Here it came. A baby. Everyone around her was having a baby. Maybe Josie needed a baby so she’d be part of the “in” crowd.

“You talk about what you want to talk about, then.” Just get it out, Darla.

“I need to talk about a man.” Darla’s accent had always amused Josie. You would think that they would both have the same post-Appalachia, not-quite-Yinzer Pittsburgh accent, but they didn’t. Maybe because Josie’s dad hadn’t been from the area, or maybe because Darla was so bold in how she spoke, but Josie had ditched most of her central Ohioisms from her speech patterns, while it seemed Darla had absorbed them all and more.

“A man? How can you talk about a man? There aren’t any men out there.” The last guy back home Josie had dated was Davey Rockland, who had managed to fail out of the police academy because he couldn’t keep track of how many bullets he’d shot from a clip. When you can’t manage basic arithmetic up to fifteen or so, it’s time to just go become roadkill.

“No kidding,” Darla muttered, “but I actually managed to find one.”

“So, who is this man you found?”

“I literally found him, Josie. He was naked, wearing nothing but a guitar on the side of the road.”

Huh? Did Darla just actually say what she thought she said? The cat leapt onto the counter and headed toward the salad Josie was working on. One good shove later and she had an offended cat, tail up and puckered asshole sauntering away.

“What?” Josie barked, struggling to pin her phone between her cheek and shoulder while covering the food with plastic wrap to protect it from the feline menace.

“I’m not kidding.” Darla’s mantra. Even at three or four her stock phrase had been “I’m not kidding,” one hand jauntily on her cocked hip, an insulted expression on her face.

“He was just standing there on I-76, wearing a guitar and a collar and sticking his thumb out, and so I stopped.”

“Did you fuck him?” This sounded like the start of a good Penthouse Forum story.

“Wow, way to be blunt, Josie.” She paused. Josie could imagine Darla biting the cuticle of her thumbnail, shoving her giant mane of blonde curls over her shoulder, buying time to decide how best to tell the truth. “Yeah, of course.”

Victory! “How can I be blunt if I’m right?”

“You can be both.”

“I often am, but don’t accuse me of being too blunt when, in the end, the direct question I’m asking relates exactly to what you’ve actually done.” Boy, that sounded wayyyyy too officious, even in Josie’s head. She opened her mouth to say something to lighten the conversation when Darla spoke.

“I don’t want to talk about that, either,” Darla snapped.

“What do you want to talk about?” Where was this going? Was she pregnant or not? If she was, she would just blurt it out. Darla wasn’t the type to keep anything to herself. Whatever was going on had to be complicated if it didn’t pour out of her in the first few seconds.

“I want to talk about this man.”

“What’s his name?”

“Trevor.”

“Trevor what?”

“Trevor Connor.” Josie could hear the grin in Darla’s voice. Trevor Connor. She knew that name.

“Trevor Connor…where have I heard that name? Why is that so familiar?” Josie asked. She knew it wasn’t someone they’d grown up with. How was Darla dating someone whose name she knew?

“Wait a minute!” she practically screamed. “Trevor Connor? From Random Acts of Crazy?” A year ago one of the teenage granddaughters of one of Josie’s patients had been blasting a song that Josie loved. One thing led to another and she’d downloaded “I Wasted My Only Answered Prayer” and sent it to Darla. The rest was history. Her niece had become a serious groupie for this tiny little local band, but Random Acts of Crazy was growing. Were they touring in Ohio already? If so, why Peters? Of all the places you could perform in Ohio…

“Yup.”

“Darla.” Calm seeped into her voice. It occurred to her that Darla might be calling her, high as a kite, and rambling on about something that wasn’t real.

“Yeah?”

“Are you on something? Because you don’t just conjure a naked man on the interstate, wearing nothing but a guitar, who happens to be the lead singer of your favorite band.” Compassion filled her. This was not what Josie had expected, and her shift in focus went from her pending date to her far-flung niece. “Honey, do you need me to call someone?”

“I swear to God, Josie, I am not making this up.” The tone in her voice was believable. If this were true, then how did Trevor Connor get to Peters? It was all too crazy.

And random.

“Okayyy,” Josie said, skeptically. “And you fucked him?”

“Yup.”

“Any good?” Wincing, Josie forced herself to ask the question. While Darla and she were adults now, there was still an ick factor in talking about sex.

“Hoo boy,” Darla chirped.

“That good?” A flicker of her and Alex pressed up against the stone wall by the river sent shivers through her.

“Yup.”

“So what’s your problem?” Please don’t be pregnant.

“My problem is that I don’t know what my problem is and Trevor is about to leave any minute now and I’m going to pick up his friend Joe, who—”

“Joe? Joe as in Joe Ross, the bass player?”

“Yup.”

“Quit saying ‘yup.’” This one-word answer shit drive Josie nuts.

“Yes, ma’am. Is that better?”

“Actually, yes.”

“Okay then, ma’am.”

“You’re telling me that you’re hanging out with the bass player and the lead singer of your favorite band in the middle of Peters?”

“Yup—yes, ma’am, I mean.”

“You know they’re from Boston, right?

“Well, outside of Boston, some suburb named Sudborough.”

Josie snorted. “More like Snob-borough.”

“I picked up on that,” Darla said. Josie could imagine the tongue roll, how Darla would mug, her eyebrows lifting in a goofy face. God, she missed her. Maybe this was the chance to get her out here. Finally. Aunt Cathy didn’t need nearly as much help as Darla claimed she needed. Fear stopped Darla from even visiting Boston.

“Are they being assholes?” she said, coldly. “Because if you need me to—”

“What? What are you going to do, Josie? You’re a hundred pounds soaking wet. You gonna go and raspberry them to death? Shake your finger in their faces extra hard?”

Oh, great. As if Josie weren’t already teeming with insecurity. A wave of protectiveness rose up in her nonetheless, pushed through by a sense of indignation that these two metro-west Boston spoiled college boys might be hurting Darla.

“Fair enough,” she said. What she wanted to say was something devastatingly visceral, but this wasn’t about her. It was about Darla. Her voice softened. “So, what’s really going on?”

“Well, you knew I already had a fangirl crush on Trevor, so the problem is that now that I’ve spent most of the past twenty-four hours with him, I don’t want to let him go.”

Aha. An opening. “So don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t let him get away. Come to Boston. Live with me here in Cambridge.”

“You know I can’t do that.” I know that’s bullshit, Josie thought. Deep breath, and then—

“Your mama’s fine,” she said, soothingly. “You can come out here. You can go on, Darla. You can move on.”

“I don’t wanna talk about that.”

“Well, I do,” Josie insisted. “And now you have a place to live, you have a guy—”

“Two guys.” Darla’s words hung in the air like a giant water balloon about to crash into Josie’s face, Matrix-style.

“Two guys? You fucked them both?” Was this some trend Josie was missing out on? First Laura, and now Darla? Had Cosmo come out with an issue on threesomes?

“No… no,” Darla said, stumbling. “Look, it’s complicated.”

“It’s always complicated,” Josie shot back. If she heard that phrase one more time…and now it was pouring out of her own mouth.

“No, actually, it’s not. My life’s pretty fuckin’ simple, Josie. I go to my gas station job, I help Mama with her sugars and I try to find somebody to spend time with who doesn’t think that Killer Karaoke is the height of American culture. Other than that, I don’t have a complicated life and now, suddenly, in twenty-four hours it’s become more twisted and more confusing than anything else in my entire life probably since I was four.”

Zing! An arrow between the eyes couldn’t have hurt—or halted her—more. Forcing a deep breath, she inhaled until her belly filled, distending beyond her waistband, and then deflating, a forced relaxation that she felt in her bones. Good.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It sounds like whatever you’re going through, it’s pretty big.”

“Yup…uh, yes, ma’am.”

“How can I help?”

“Tell me what to do.” Darla laughed, the sound wild and boisterous. “I don’t want Trevor to leave—Joe’s about to take him away. Uncle Mike’s gonna fix his car.”

“Joe’s car is broken?”

“Yeah, he got here and then came into my little purple passion place—”

“Your purple what?” Was that code for drugs? Or some hotel nearby that rented by the hour? Or had something on her body gone purple with disease? Josie wished she could have been there more for Darla these past years. This call was clearly a cry for help.

“Oh, never mind.” A long sigh told Josie Darla was as frustrated as she was. Whatever words were flying between the two of them didn’t connect easily to what was going on beneath the surface.

“If you’ve got a place on your body that’s turning purple from passion, Darla, then there are medications for that.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Ookaaayyy.” Even the cat ran off this time, spooked by Josie’s tone, her non-phone hand gesturing as if possessed. Josie’s smart mouth was running dangerously close to ripping Darla a new one.

“I don’t want Trevor to leave and Joe’s an asshole but he’s a really, really, really attractive asshole and I just…” A long sigh. “I guess it’s all on me, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Josie said. “It’s all on you. I can’t really help you. I’m here to listen, I’m here to give you whatever advice I can, and I’m here to caution you to please, please use condoms.” Please.

Darla laughed, a belly sound that made Josie’s shoulders drop instantly. “We did. No worries.”

“Okay, good, because the last thing you need is to add a baby to this mix.”

“I know. I know, Josie, I’m watching Jane go through it. Trust me, I do not wanna add a baby to anything right now.”

“Good girl. I’m going to start clearing out my guest room just in case you wanted to, you know, visit. Or uproot your entire life and move in.” A dawning sense of joy filled her at the thought. Rescuing Darla had been her mission years ago; leaving had been wretched. But now…

“Fat chance.”

“Oh, I think the chance is better than you think, Darla,” she said.

Shuffling sounds, and then: “I gotta go, Josie,” Darla said. “Things are about to get even more complicated.”

More complicated? What could be more complicated than two guys at once? Josie struggled to say the exact right thing, the one statement that would ricochet in Darla’s mind and help her to make the perfect decision—which was, of course, to move to Boston.

“Just remember one thing, Darla,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“Whatever you do, it’s your life—not anybody else’s. You get to pick what happens next.” Click. Darla was gone.

*

She knocked softly on the door. She wasn’t nervous—a sense of determination drove her forward, knowing that this was the first of many, many arguments that she would be picking on this subject.

“Yes.” Gian looked up. He was balding on top and wore glasses like something out of the 1950s, army-issue thick black rims. His shirt had what looked like a tomato sauce stain on it and it occurred to her for a moment that he could have been Dylan’s incredibly ugly older brother.

“Hey, Gian, I have a question.”

“What’s up?”

“I want to talk about the trial.”

“Yes,” he said. “Isn’t that what we’re here for?”

“I think it’s time to break it.”

“What?” He looked at her in shock and pulled his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose, his brown eyes, one bloodshot from rubbing, the other quite white and normal looked back at her a bit bugged out. “Why would we break it?”

“I think for ethical reasons we need to. The trends I told you about are deepening.” Barely holding it together, she found her brain taking over. Quit quit quit quit quit, it said, racing through what she’d already lost from the trial (Alex) and what she was being offered by Laura (freedom).

“Deepening,” he said.

“And I’m documenting trends. It’s becoming increasingly evident which patients are on the drug and which are on placebo.”

He studied her carefully. He knew that she knew this stuff inside out. If it had been any other nurse, she knew, he’d have waved her away. “What makes you think that?” he challenged, propping his chin in his elbow, rubbing his upper lip absentmindedly.

She took a seat and pulled out a large folder. “I knew you’d ask that.”

“Of course I’d ask that.”

“That’s right. I knew you’d ask, and so here’s my data.”

“Data. How refreshing—someone who works here who actually believes in the scientific process.”

“I know, it’s amazing, isn’t it?”

After battling a political nightmare a few years ago where there was a near-corruption scandal involving bribes from a pharmaceutical company to help push a drug along, Gian had been brought in. He had—if nothing else—a strict adherence to policy, squeaky clean, and in that respect, a bit like Alex. In the physical department? He was basically as much like Alex as the Gollum.

She opened the folder and handed it to him. “Look at the response rates; in memory, in reflex, short-term memory, long-term memory, all of these different fields. I keep seeing a growing divide. This folder is the group of people who perform well, or at least stay in place, and this is the group of people who don’t. The metrics just keep showing that the same groups are getting more entrenched in their patterns—and the people who are getting worse are deteriorating at a very alarming rate.”

He put his glasses back on and read over the documents carefully. Josie knew to occupy her mind—if it took forty-five minutes, Gian would sit there and take forty-five minutes. His meticulous nature, right here right now, was playing into exactly what she hoped. She wasn’t setting herself up for disappointment, though. She was resigned to failure this first time, but, if nothing else, she’d plant a seed of doubt in Gian’s mind and get him to at least think about it.

To her surprise, he snapped the folder shut and looked up within about ten minutes. “I see the trend—but we need more data.”

“Are you kidding me?” she said. “That’s not enough?”

“Nope. I’d say we need at least six months more.”

“Six months! Some of these people don’t have six months. Some of these families don’t have six months.”

“I’m not at all unaware of that.”

“Oh, that’s a lovely bureaucratic reply. ‘We’re sorry that your father is slipping into incontinence and doesn’t remember his middle child but we’re not unaware of that,’” she said with a snarky affect. Rage started to fill her, thinking about Ed and his confusion. How he was starting to confuse his daughters for each other and how he’d mistaken her, at one point, for one of them.

“I can’t jeopardize the funding, Josie.”

“Funding?”

“Funding.”

She began to play angrily with the little Dungeons and Dragons figures and a set of magic dice that Gian had sprinkled across the front of his desk.

“Isn’t there an ethics aspect to this for human trials, Gian,” she said sharply, “that supersedes funding?” Her anger was coming out and as the tension in the back of her neck got worse it started to blind her, her eyes seeing everything through a lace curtain. Rage roiled up through her veins, spiriting into her fingertips, down her spine into her coccyx, and then dividing in two, running down her legs into her toes.

This was the range of options. If she hadn’t had that conversation with Laura, Dylan, and Mike, if they hadn’t offered her the opportunity to start this crazy business, if she didn’t know damn well deep inside herself that she was right and that those people were in jeopardy by being forced to stay in the control group, then she wouldn’t say what she was about to say.

“Look, you can snap at me,” he said dispassionately. “It’s not going to change anything.”

“I know that.” She stood and got right in his face, bending down, mustering as much intimidation as she could, which wasn’t hard given her fury. She shoved her finger right in his face, making him flinch and pull back. “You get this straight Gian—I’m coming in to this office every fucking day until you convene a committee to look over what I’ve gathered. You know as well as I know that there’s a point in any research trial with human beings where if it is a detriment to continue the trial when it’s known, when it’s known through data analysis, that the drug is so beneficial that it would be detrimental to keep it from the control group, that the research study can be broken. I am telling you—look at that data because I think it’s time we do that.”

“You’re going to be in my fucking office every day if I don’t do what you want?”

“I’m telling you I’m going to be in your office every fucking day.”

“Then would you mind bringing me a Starbucks?” He smiled, the grin not reaching his eyes.

“Do you want it poured over your head or your crotch, Gian? Because then yes, I’ll bring you a Starbucks.”

“I’d like it in a cup.” He turned away and began tapping on his computer. “I suppose now I need to make sure I wear one.” He glanced nervously at his crotch. “If you’re done, I’m going to write an email now.”

“All right, Gian. See you tomorrow,” she said, storming out.

It wasn’t until she hit the stairwell that the shakes sank in. She’d left the folder on his desk, but she had five other copies back in her office, ready to deploy every day. There was one thing that her mom had told her over the years. “You are a persistent little shit, aren’t you?” Marlene used to say. Josie had taken pride in it—it’s what got her out of Peters, what got her through Daddy’s death, and what got her to make the decision that—yes.

Yes.

If she was a persistent little shit then maybe she could persist in letting herself be in charge of her own life.

She slid her phone out of her pocket and dialed Laura’s number.

Annoyingly real and torturously resonant, the pain of knowing that by trying to do the right thing she had only hurt so many others was the kind of stupidity she wished she could bang out of herself, one blow at the time, by flinging her body onto the jagged rocks at the bottom of a cliff.

While that might be satisfying to some of the people in her life, Josie knew that she would have to settle for self abuse of the mind, a never-ending stream of thoughts that dominated her twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, an ongoing reminder of the failure of the heart.

Wait a minute, she told herself. Not fair! Some tiny shred of mercy flittered through her mind. The failure of the heart? That seemed harsh. She was a big girl, and could accept that she had screwed up. But flogging herself, and not loving herself enough to forgive, though, would hurt everyone, especially her. It was bad enough that so many people were in pain. She didn’t need to add the complete annihilation of self-worth to the mess.

Dusting off her bruised ego, Josie took a deep breath. There were one million things she wanted to say to Alex, but instead she would have to focus on so many other things in her life.

Like quitting her job.

Laura had made a generous offer to her, to open and manage a very different kind of company. It was time to take the offer seriously.

Josie would do just that.

Picking up her smartphone, Josie dialed Laura’s number. The phone rang four times before she heard Laura’s voice, followed by the loud scream of a baby.

“Hello?” Laura’s frantic voice answered. The sound of a baby’s sharp cry pierced the air, and it ended quickly, with a muffled mewling that left Josie confused.

“Laura?”

“Yeah, Josie? Hang on, I’m just latching Jill on.” Aha! That was what was going on. Josie paused for a few seconds to think about what Laura’s life must be like right now. She had become so engrossed in her own new relationship that she hadn’t given much thought to what Laura was going through with this new identity change. Plus, the physical changes must be overwhelming.

“Okay. Whew. She’s on. What’s up?”

“Is that offer still open?”

The grin on Laura’s face could be heard through the phone. “Sure is! I was just looking into real estate, in fact.”

“If I’m supposed to run the place, shouldn’t I be the one looking for the office?” she said in an over-the-top, officious tone.

“Yes, boss!” Laura sighed, the sound of relief clear. “Let’s meet later today at Jeddy’s. I’ll bring Jillian and the guys and we can hash out the basics.”

Indecision washed over her. This was too real, suddenly. “I haven’t accepted. Just want to explore my options.”

A groan from Laura. “Does that include exploring Alex, too?”

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Too bad. I do.” Steel ran through her words. This was not the softer, insecure Laura. When had she become so demanding?

“You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t talk about!” There wasn’t any real conviction in Josie’s voice.

“Yes, I can. I am attached at the nipple to an eight-pound vampire and sleep with two men who are walking zombies these days and who can’t find two nights a week to bother with sex. It’s your turn to dish about your sex life.”

“Fine, I’ll talk about air fucking aaaaaall you want.”

“Air fucking?” Laura sputtered. “Is that like mime sex?”

Josie covered her face with her hands and dropped the phone; she was laughing that hard. Scrambling to retrieve the phone as Laura called out to her, she finally got it in hand, and with great, whooping gasps choked out, “It is exactly like mime sex.”

“What fun is that if you can’t scream when you come?” Laura said, an indignant tone in her voice.

Josie went blind with laughter.

“Meet us at four at Jeddy’s tomorrow, Josie. You’re crazy.” Some mumbling came over the phone, and then a soft pout of disgust. “And the baby just shat all the way up her back and into her hair.”

Ewwww. “That is quite an accomplishment,” Josie said, snorting. Her abs hurt from giggling.

“Gotta go! We’ll talk about air fucking later!”

“I’m waiting with bated breath.” Click.

*

As if Darla were channeling her, the phone rang with her name on it.

The sounds coming from her phone were like alien communications, high pitched and screechy. “I can’t believe I did this and they left!” was the best Josie could understand.

“Whoa! Darla. Slow down. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Her voice went into that deadly calm she got during emergencies. Made her a damn fine nurse.

“Not physically.”

“Who left?”

“Joe and Trevor.”

“The guys from Random Acts of Crazy?”

No answer. What was going on?

“Darla? You there?” Her voice was firm again.

“Yes. And yes, the guys from the band.”

“They went home?”

“Yep.” Darla began to sob, wracking sounds that made Josie’s heart hurt.

“What happened? Are you okay? What did they do?” Her voice trailed off, concern coming through loud and clear.

“They up and left me alone here at the truck-stop hotel,” Darla bellowed.

“They wha—” As if chopped off with an ax, her voice just stopped cold. “They left you.”

“They.”

“They?”

“They—yes, they. It’s a word, Josie. It means two or more people.”

“MORE?” The pain in Josie’s heart turned to a thumping shock.

“No. Not more. Just they as in two guys.”

“And you…?”

“We. Yes.”

Whoosh. Josie pulled the phone away from her ear and let all the air in her lungs go out in one big stream of holy shit. Managing one man was hard enough—why were the two women closest to her suddenly handling two? Was there a message here?

A light bulb went on.

“Oh, honey,” Josie said. “Do you want a job?”

“A job?”

“I’ve always told you that if you want to move out here you can, Darla. But you always said you needed a job along with a place to live. I’m changing jobs and can hire someone to work as my office assistant, and I’m offering it to you. The whole shebang—a place to stay and a job. What do you say?”

Josie held her breath. This was the first time Darla hadn’t snapped a negative answer when begged to move out to Boston. Maybe, just maybe…

“And I know you’ll claim you can’t leave Aunt Cathy, but you know that’s just a chickenshit excuse you’ve been using for years to avoid changing your life. You’re too timid, Darla. You need to take more chances.”

Too much silence. Darla must have been wavering, which meant there was a chance. Time to put on the thumbscrews. “Hint: The correct response is a breathy ‘OMIGOD AUNT JOSIE YOU ARE THE BEST.’” She made a derisive snorting noise. “Not this silent, pensive crap.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just start when you come out here, maybe in a week or two?”

“So what’s the company?”

Umm... How was Josie supposed to explain?

“Josie?”

“It’s not pole dancing.”

“Well, thank goodness, because the only pole I dance on is—”

“Too much information, Darla Josephine. TMI.”

“You’re not really giving me enough details to leap and leave behind my entire life, you know.”

Another snort. “I’m going to guess that right now you’re either getting ready to go work at the gas station where the highlight of your day will be changing the urinal cake in the men’s room, or you’re trying to find a way to keep wiring the cable line from your neighbor so your mom can watch Pawn Stars again.”

“When you put it that way,” Darla said through gritted teeth, “it’s kind of hard to say no. But you have to give me something. What does this company do?”

Buying time, Josie tried to think of how to say this. But then again, maybe not. If Darla was impulsive enough to jump into bed with two guys from her favorite band, surely she wouldn’t care about working for a ménage dating service.

Right?

Finally, she said in a controlled, professional voice, “Let’s just say you’re a perfect match for the job.”

“Okay, Aunt Josie,” she said. “You got a deal. Give me a week or two and I’ll be out there.”

Squeeee! “Darla Jo, it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.”

“I’ve made some whoppers.”

“Yes, you have, and this one’s not one of them.”

*

This must be what adults feel like, Josie thought as she walked in the front door of Jeddy’s to find Madge waving a half-friendly “hello” and Laura, Dylan, Mike, and baby Jill already settled in a large booth, coffee cups in front of the adults with Jillian nestled in Laura’s lap, attached to one breast discreetly.

The walk from the entrance to the booth where her friends had settled in felt transformative, like a vision quest that took place through a ratty old diner with torn vinyl seats and scratched stainless steel grills. Each step felt like one more gravid foot closer to being expected to act in a more mature manner, to managing relationships with friends, with godchildren, with… what could she call Madge, exactly? Her not boyfriend’s grandfather’s girlfriend? There had to be a word for that, right? Whatever it was, she wasn’t mature enough—yet—to figure it out.

The pity party she’d indulged in for the past month faded as she strode closer to the group. Instead of feeling alienated and like a fourth wheel—a fifth, now that she thought about it, with the baby here. A fleeting thought went through her mind like a ribbon unfurling: These are my people. I belong here.

And she did.

“Where’s Alex?” Laura asked, her face hopeful and bright.

The scowl that Josie shot back made Laura’s grin turn quickly into a frown, a melting of her features that made Josie feel a pang of guilt, as if she’d hurt Laura herself. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dylan muttered something unintelligible to Mike, and if looks could wither, she had just turned him into a desiccated raisin.

“I hope everything is okay,” he said, and then, again, she had to feel something, a halting within herself where everything that she assumed had to be rolled back.

She squared her shoulders and reminded herself that no one here was judging her. “It’s all, well… it’s not good,” she said, “but it’s not bad. I just don’t want to talk about him right now.” Not in front of your happy family, she thought. “I do want to talk about the business.”

“Yes,” Mike said, swigging back the final bit of coffee in his cup and banging it down on the tabletop just enough like Thor to make the corners of Josie’s mouth pop up. “Let’s talk about the business. How do you want to structure it?”

Josie and Laura exchanged a look. “I thought we’d figured that all out,” Laura said.

“Maybe you two figured all that out,” Dylan added, finishing his coffee off and looking around for Madge as if she held the only life preserver on the Titanic, “but Mike and I have no idea what you two are planning.”

“You guys didn’t talk about it?” she asked Laura.

“When we are able to talk to each other at home,” she said, “it’s never the three of us. Whichever one of us is in charge of the baby, the other two are out cold somewhere on the couch, in bed, on the toilet—”

“Hey! I was tired,” Dylan interjected.

“You fell asleep on the toilet?”

“Don’t judge.”

“Fine.” Josie held her hands up in a gesture of supplication. “Let’s get back to business.”

“Let’s,” Mike added.

Madge whipped past with a thermos of coffee, pouring Mike and Dylan’s and then slamming the pitcher on the scratched tabletop, throwing down a little bowl of creamers and flashing past.

“She’s my new girlfriend,” Dylan said, emotion infusing his words as he cradled the cup of java as if it were a precious stone or his child, who was currently suckling off of Laura, the sounds of smacking hard for Josie to weed out as the baby latched on and off over and over again, making Laura wince.

“That doesn’t hurt, does it?” Josie asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee from the pitcher and started to look at the menu.

“Of course it hurts.” Laura glared at her. “Can you imagine having a baby’s mouth on your nipple twelve hours a day?”

“Twelve hours a day?”

“That’s what it feels like. You’d be all cracked and sore and peeling and—”

“Ah, God, I don’t want to hear it!” Josie said. “Please, I’m about to eat.”

“You’re a nurse. If you don’t have a cast iron stomach and can’t hear a few details about breastfeeding, then—”

“I’m a research nurse now. I deal with old people.”

“Not for long,” Laura reminded her.

Josie bit her bottom lip, curling it in under her top teeth. Madge saved her from what she wanted to say, which was Not in the way you think, but instead she was forced to order as the old coot bore down on her, looming over, casting her shadow on Josie’s seated form.

“What can I getcha? A hot doctor?”

Deflating, Josie said meekly, “I’ll just have the fried green tomatoes and a tossed salad with Italian.”

“What’s going on with you and Alex?” Madge asked, suspiciously. “He’s moping around, too.”

Four sets of eyes lasered in on her, Dylan’s eyebrows raised high, Mike calm and peaceful as always—either that or he was too tired to actually care.

“I would like the fried green tomatoes and a tossed salad with Italian dressing,” Josie repeated, over-enunciating the words.

She was pissed.

These were her people, all right. These were her crazy people that she wanted to get away from.

“Okay, then,” Madge answered, mimicking Josie’s affect. “I. Will. Get. You. The. Wat. Er. And. The. Food. You—”

“Oh, God, cut it out!” Dylan snapped. “Just—just take the order.”

Laura snapped back, “We’re all curious. We all want to know what’s going on with Alex. Doesn’t kill you to be patient.”

“Yes, it does. I want my food. I’m hungry.”

Now it was Josie and Madge’s turn to watch, because this was the first time she’d ever seen them snipe at each other like this. Trouble in paradise? Could it be?

“Well, maybe you wouldn’t be so hungry if you had remembered to make lunch for everybody like you were supposed to,” Laura said. Narrowing her eyes, she shifted the baby, who popped off and started to scream. “Oh, dammit,” she whispered under her breath, fumbling with her shirt, looking around the room, her eyes filled with tears, and Josie felt everything melt away, filled with a sense of compassion for how hard this really must be for all of them.

Baby Jillian’s wails filled their corner of the restaurant, drawing stares from fellow diners. “Omigod, people are staring. I don’t want them to see me breastfeeding.”

“Why not?” Mike asked. “It’s the most natural thing in the world.” His voice was reassuring but there was an irritability there.

Dylan went into protective mode, craning his head around the restaurant looking for a fight. He clearly didn’t want to find one with Laura, so any passerby would do. “If anybody says anything I’ll give them a piece of my mind,” he mumbled, looking around like a Navy SEAL doing a reconnaissance mission. “You have every right to breastfeed, and it’s beautiful and they can all just fuck off.”

Madge just shook her head. “We didn’t do that when I had my kids.”

“Do what?”

“Breastfeed. Only the hippies did that.”

“You weren’t a hippie?”

She threw her head back and cackled. “Honey, I was more Mad Men than Woodstock.”

She quickly took the rest of the orders and ran off to the kitchen. Laura shifted the baby out from under her nursing shirt and threw a burp rag on her shoulder, propping Jillian upright.

The back of her little head had a thin layer of that dark blonde hair that had been so lush at birth. It had worn away like a balding old man in the spot where she lay against the sheets. Josie had seen that in newborns before and knew that the baby’s hair would be back before her first birthday. Right now the bald spot was adorable and a reminder of how vulnerable and really, really tiny this baby was.

A belch like a sailor’s poured forth from the baby. It was so loud that a group of college students—mostly guys but a couple of girls sprinkled in the eight top—cheered, giving baby Jill a round of applause.

That finally seemed to crack the tension at the table, Dylan and Mike shaking their heads and laughing as even Laura tittered just a bit. Dylan finished half of his second cup of coffee and then leaned in, his forearms resting and stretching out on the table across from Josie.

“How, exactly, do you plan to structure the business? Let’s talk about the space.”

Josie caught Laura’s eyes. Laura nodded. Overwhelm was all too easy at this stage for the new parents. Hell, it was easy for Josie and all she had to do was take care of a cat.

“We need to get office space—nothing big, maybe a waiting area, two or three small offices and access to a bathroom and an elevator. It can be cheap and, frankly, it doesn’t need to be in the hot part of town because this is a boutique firm.”

Mike nodded. “I like that. How about personnel?”

“I’m only going to need me and one other person like an office assistant, somebody to do basic paperwork and filing and answer phones and respond to emails—customer-service-type stuff; anything that’s overflow from what I can handle.”

“You have someone in mind?” Dylan reached out to Laura. The baby had pulled away, deep in sleep, drunk off mother’s milk. Her lips were relaxed and a perfect little red bow dropped open with a tiny little blister right at the little V of her upper lip.

“What happened?” Josie said, turning away from all the business talk.

“Oh, that’s just a nursing blister,” Laura said quietly as she carefully, with Olympic-athlete-level precision, transferred Jillian over to Dylan with one hand and snapped her nursing bra shut with the other. Dylan slid his entire arm carefully under the blanketed form, froze momentarily as the baby snurgled and shifted, and then pulled her across. Laura let out a giant sigh of relief, leaned back and picked up her cold half-cup of coffee, drinking it as if it were the finest espresso at a Parisian coffee house.

Watching Laura take such luxury in the most commonplace of actions, finding it a pleasure to have seconds of not being responsible, physically attached to her child, made Josie marvel at the intricacies of this relationship that she hadn’t understood.

Was her mom like that with her when she was a baby? What about her dad? Had Marlene and Jeff sat in the Ohio version of a diner like this with month-old Josie, Marlene breastfeeding—wait, scratch that. Her own thoughts invaded her own thoughts. Had she breastfed Josie? No scene, no imagined reality of her own infancy, would be complete without a picture of her mom with an inch-long ash hanging off a cigarette dangling over Josie’s head, her little baby form in her mother’s arms.

What she saw across the table from her and what she imagined her own infancy to have been were quite different. The similarity, though, was that there was a time in her life when she was so wanted and so precious and so vulnerable that her parents must have done the drudgery, have lived the endless marathon of seconds ticking by so slowly, of meeting every single need that she had that they could meet—her needs so simple yet so all-consuming.

And the idea that they loved her so much to do all of that made her appreciate all the more how changed her friends were.

“Who do you have in mind for an office assistant?”

“She could just take out an ad.” Dylan turned and looked at Mike, answering the question before Josie could even open her mouth.

“Actually, I have someone in mind,” Josie said.

Three sets of eyes looked at her quizzically.

“Already?”

Josie nodded. “My niece—well, she’s not really my niece, she’s my cousin, but we call her my niece.”

Dylan started humming the song “Dueling Banjos”. Josie reached across the booth and tapped him with the back of her hand on the arm, careful not to wake Jillian. He just grinned at her and laughed.

“It’s not like that. She’s my cousin by birth, our mothers are sisters, but I’m seven and a half years older and I’ve raised her—or, at least, been a major part of raising her since she was four—so we call each other aunt and niece. Anyhow, who cares about genealogy?” She looked pointedly at the baby. “Especially the three of you.”

“She’s got us there,” Mike admitted.

“So, my niece, Darla—”

“Darla? You have a niece named Darla?” Dylan said. “What’s her middle name? Sue?”

“No, it’s Josephine.”

“Darla Jo? Does she have an accent?”

Josie leaned back and crossed her arms, looking at Dylan pointedly. “What kind of accent do you think people from Ohio have?”

He pulled out the rankest, hickest redneck accent that it seemed he was capable of pulling out and proceeded to butcher it. “I don’t know, y’all. How y’all doin’? Good, let’s git on dow—”

“Oh my God, that is not how people from Ohio talk.”

“How do they talk?” he asked.

“They talk like you and me, but without the flat Boston thing you do.”

“I don’t do a flat Boston thing,” he protested. “It’s not like I pahk the cah in Havahd Yahd.”

“You can’t park a car in Harvard Yard.”

“You know what I mean.”

Laura nudged Dylan hard, almost waking the baby up, and then she cringed in horror, forgetting herself. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered. “Just—just stop, you’re going to wake up the baby,” she hissed.

“All right. Fine. So, Darla Sue Billybob Jo Jennings—”

“How did you know her last name?”

“Her last name is Jennings?”

“Yes.”

“I just…it’s the hickest last na—”

“It is not a hick – ”

“Cut that out.” Mike stuck his hand out, finger pointed at Josie, and then at Dylan, and then at the baby. “If you two wake her up right now, I will lock you in a storage facility in one of those eight-by-ten rooms with no way out, a two-day supply of food, and you have to find a way to get along.”

Laura put her hand up. “Can I go do that alone? Because I would totally take that deal right now.”

Josie looked at her like she was crazy.

Laura looked back. “What? Two days alone, with food that’s made for me already? Are you kidding me? That’s like…that’s like the equivalent of a week-long cruise to the mother of a newborn.”

“Can we just get back to the business?” Mike asked.

“So, I’ve got Darla,” Josie said. “She can be my office assistant.”

“Does she have office skills?”

“No.”

“Does she have any skills?” Dylan asked.

“She’s worked at a gas station for the past six years.”

“She’s worked at a gas station.”

“Which means she’s dealt with customers, cash registers, and inventory.”

“This isn’t exactly that kind of business,” Laura added. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t hire her, she sounds fine, but—”

“Well, she does have one redeeming quality that is really, really vital to the company mission,” Josie said, nodding slowly.