Evan

The early morning meetings at Roasting Point Café have ground to a halt. That’s not by design. It’s by necessity.

Work has been brutal. I’ve been pulling long shifts and taking on surgeries that I’d normally assist in with Kylie. She’s out with the flu and although the other surgeons are doing their part to pick up the slack, the brunt of the overflow has fallen square on my shoulders.

Normally I wouldn’t mind.

This is where I thrive. The rush in helping other people pushed me into this career in the first place.

I didn’t follow in anyone’s footsteps. My parents are both plastic surgeons. Their faces and bodies are their billboards. The private practice they run in Beverly Hills keeps them close to my sister and closer yet to the celebrity clientele that they adore.

I moved across the country for college so I could choose a specialty that I wanted. The fact that I’ll never take over their practice is another nail in their coffin of disappointment.

By some miracle, maybe my son or my daughter will find worth in helping others find their inner beauty on the outside.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Peterson?” I tack a smile onto the end of that because Wilford Peterson looks like he could use it.

“Screw you.”

“You’ll have to wait at least six weeks until you engage in intimate activities, Mr. Peterson, and unfortunately for you I’m seeing someone.”

The corner of his lip darts up before it falls. “I feel like shit.”

“You look like hell.” I point out as I circle the pen in my hand in front of his face. “Your color will improve in a day or two. I take no responsibility for your attitude.”

“You’re a smart ass. Do you know that?”

“I graduated at the top of my class. “I tuck the pen back in my pocket before I adjust the drip on his IV. “I’m going to prescribe something stronger for the pain and for the sake of the nurses. It’ll knock you out for a few hours.”

“Do you have a wife?” He looks down at my left hand.

I sigh. “No wife.”

“Mine isn’t here.” He shrugs which is followed by a wince. “I thought she’d be here when I woke up.”

“She fell asleep in the family lounge an hour ago.” I point at a room across the hall from where we are. “She’s a strong woman. You’re a lucky man.”

“You gave me a few more years with her, didn’t you?” His wrinkled brow furrows. “She needs me. I can’t leave her yet.”

“I opened the clogged artery, stuck a shiny new stent in there and gave you more time with your beautiful bride. “

“There’s little better in life than a woman who loves you.” He fists the thin blue blanket that is covering him. “I’m grateful that you took care of my heart so I can take care of hers.”

I hear words of gratitude from my patients and their families on a daily basis. I’ve never grown tired of it, but when it becomes a regular part of your day, numbness sets in and it takes a conversation like this to kick you in the ass and make you appreciate life.

“I’ll wake her on my way out.” I pat his hand. “I’ll be back to see you this afternoon. Until then, keep the insults to a minimum. You’re no match for the nurses on this ward.”

He finally smiles. “I’ll be good to them. You be good to yourself and keep your hands off my wife. You’re more her type than I am.”

I laugh as I stroll out of the recovery room. “Deal, Wilf. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

***

I watch Chloe eat a sandwich. It’s pastrami on rye with extra mustard and a dill pickle on the side.

“Do you have any strange cravings yet?”

She stops mid chew to look at me. Her brows pop up before she answers once she swallows. “Nothing like that. I just eat what I normally would.”

“You’d normally down an entire bowl of soup and a sandwich at lunch?” I gesture to the empty bowl in front of her. “I had the soup too. It wasn’t good.”

She looks over at my half eaten bowl of chicken noodle soup. “You don’t appreciate the subtle nuances of the broth.”

“I don’t appreciate that this came out of a can and they’re charging us eight dollars a bowl.”

“Today is my treat.” She pats her purse. “You always pay for food. I want to pay today.”

I shake my head as I yank my wallet out of the back pocket of my pants. “I’m not letting you pay, Chloe. This meal is on me.”

“I can pay half.” She starts to open her purse and her phone chimes from within. “I have to see who that is. I have a few major cases on the go.”

“I love when you talk like a lawyer.”

A laugh bubbles from her. “If that’s the case I have a few things for you to think about.”

I inch forward so I’m closer to her. This diner is crowded but since we’re sitting in a corner booth, we’re tucked away from most of the other patrons who are most likely doing the very same thing we are and that’s having a quick lunch in the middle of the day.

“Tell me, Chloe. Talk lawyer to me.”

She leans in until her breath is skating over my lips. “Constructive discharge. Front pay and I can’t stop thinking about overtime compensation.”

“I’m hard as nails.”

Her hand slides under the table and lands on my thigh. “You’re not, are you?”

I kiss her softly as I cover her hand with mine and inch it toward the front of my pants. “I am and it has nothing to do with what you just said and everything to do with wanting to fuck you.”

She skims her fingers over the ridge of my cock. That only heightens my desire more.

The sound of a phone ringing breaks the moment. I instinctively reach down to tug mine from my pocket but Chloe has her phone out and on the table before I reach mine.

A scowl forms on her face when she sees the incoming number.

“Leave me the hell alone,” she says under her breath. “Just stop.”

“Who is it?” I arch my neck to see the screen but her hand moves to cover it.

“No one.” She presses the ignore button. “It’s no one I ever want to talk to again.”