Chapter Forty-Seven
Lainey
Oh, my aching head.
I was awake at six the next morning and gingerly sat up to get out of bed and go looking for pain reliever when I noticed the bottle of water on the nightstand with three orange pills next to it.
I didn’t remember planning ahead last night and deduced Adam must have left them there.
“That was nice of him,” I murmured out loud as I unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and tossed the ibuprofen in my mouth.
I needed to get up and use the bathroom, then give Conor a bottle and quietly head to my apartment.
I threw the covers off and realized, Ugh, I’m still in my clothes from last night.
I was finally going to do a walk of shame, and I didn’t even have anything to be ashamed about, other than maybe having too much blueberry wine.
How disappointing.
~~~~
“You’re looking a little rough,” Marie commented when she walked into the bakery’s kitchen later that morning.
“Two words: blueberry wine.”
“Ohhhh, I’ve heard that stuff is lethal.”
“Lethal and delicious.”
“The worst combination!” she replied with a laugh as she put an apron over her head and tied it in the back. “Have you had a chance to shower this morning?”
“No, I ended up sleeping at Adam’s— in his guest room and didn’t get home in time.”
“I think I can handle things for thirty minutes. Go wash your hair. You’ll feel a thousand percent better.”
I was glad I took her advice when Dr. Weaver walked through the door at eight thirty in his scrubs.
I greeted him with a cheerful smile.
“Hi there! Going home or going to work?”
He scrubbed his hand down his beard, and I noticed the dark circles under his eyes.
“Going home.”
“So, decaf then.”
“And a cheese Danish,” he quickly added.
“Of course.”
He was handsome—in a rugged, I go mountain climbing on my days off kind of way. And since he was a doctor, I assumed he was smart.
Turned out, he was shy, too.
It was almost endearing how he fumbled his way through asking me to dinner.
After blurting out, “Do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow night?” he quickly followed it with, “I know it’s short notice, and I know that might make it hard for you to find a sitter, so I completely understand if you can’t, or if you just aren’t interested...”
I interrupted him, mainly to put him out of his obvious misery.
“I would love to. How about seven-thirty?”
My acceptance seemed to surprise him, which surprised me. He had to have women throwing themselves at him on a regular basis.
“Really? Okay, yeah, great! I’ll pick you up then.”
“My apartment is upstairs. There’s an outside entrance in the back.”
“Perfect.”
We stood awkwardly looking at each other until I said, “If you want to take a seat, I’ll get your Danish and coffee.”
“Um, sure.” He motioned toward an empty table by the wall close to the counter. “I’ll wait there.”
No sooner had he sat down than the Callahan brothers walked through the door.
Talk about bad timing.
“Hey guys! I’ll be right with you!”
I bagged Justin’s Danish, then prepared his coffee how he always ordered it—two creams, two sugars. After putting the lid on his cup, I delivered them to where he was sitting.
He stood and gave me a smile that revealed a dimple in his left cheek I hadn’t noticed before.
“Thanks, Lainey. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow night. Seven thirty.”
“I’ll be ready!”
He clumsily leaned down and kissed my cheek, then made a beeline toward the door without looking back.
I almost felt guilty when I turned around and saw Alan and Adam watching me, but then thought, why should I feel bad? Adam has made it clear he’s not interested in me. I’m entitled to go on a date with someone else.
I still had a hard time looking at him though when I took his order.
****
Adam
“Unclench your jaw, you’re going to break a tooth,” Alan chided when we sat down and waited for our order.
“She’s really going out with him,” I muttered as I watched her flit around the counter making our drinks.
“Yeah, dude. This is exactly what I warned you about last night. You should have made your move when you had the chance.”
“She was drunk. It would have been wrong to take advantage of her like that.”
“She wasn’t drunk. Tipsy maybe. And we all get it—you’re Mr. Honorable. But, little brother, that girl doesn’t want honorable, she wants someone who’s going to fight for her. So, get your shit together and fight for her.”
I glanced her way again, then shook my head.
“I can’t.”
Alan tsked. “I hope when you’re ninety-five, you don’t look back on this exact moment and wonder how your life would have turned out if only you’d gotten up and kissed the girl instead of doing nothing.”
I hoped so, too.
But I wasn’t optimistic.