Luc
Eight
I leave Paradise before I can give in to canceling my plans.
It was a long day. Taking over someone’s practice is no small feat, and that’s before Addison Dempsey’s appointment threw me a curveball I was not remotely expecting.
For now, I’m trying not to think about it.
The road out of town narrows, buildings turning into hills and rows of vines.
The noise drops away. I don’t realize how tightly I’ve been holding the wheel until my hands finally ease.
This is just a family dinner. Elise invited me. Her husband, Kingston, will be there. That’s it. No pressure. No questions unless I bring it up. And I’m not telling anyone until it’s confirmed.
The light shifts through the trees as I keep driving. The sun is low now, catching on the branches. Driving through the town of Black Bear always slows me down. It’s close enough to Paradise to feel familiar but far enough that I won’t run into patients.
That’s part of the reason I said yes when Elise asked me to come down.
Realizing that surprises me a little. I’ve always been good at calling avoidance restraint. I tell myself distance is professionalism. I made it through medical school and residency on clear boundaries and clean lines. It’s worked. It’s kept everything orderly, predictable, and safe.
The word surfaces again, uninvited. Might.
Might not be mine.
I don’t like that I immediately wanted that result before I stopped to think about what it meant.
Because I had thought about her, lots of times since that evening together.
But I’d never thought of this. Never considered that there might be something already tying us together.
And now, I have to sort through that because if it’s true.
Something deep within me already knows that remaining untethered to Addison, to her baby—even if that’s what she wants—won’t be freedom.
At best, it would be relief from complication.
From uncertainty. From something that would change my life without asking.
But that’s not what I’ll want, even if I wish it had happened entirely another way.
I grip the wheel again, this time on purpose.
The road dips and winds around the lake until finally the Paradise family vineyard comes into view.
Elise’s house sits on their property, above the lake, and Kingston, Elise’s husband, lands in his helicopter just as I pull up.
The lights are on in the house, warm against the fading sun.
This house isn’t born of old Paradise money.
It came from Kingston’s groundbreaking knee-replacement design.
I put my hand on the door handle and think about leaving instead. Sending a text and bolting. But I like Kingston and Elise. Why am I feeling so nervous about this? It’s not like they’ll be able to read what happened today on my face…
I shut off the engine. I’m not here to confess. I’m not looking for advice. We’re just going to eat some food and enjoy the fact that we all live in the same area now.
Elise answers the door before I knock. “Perfect timing,” she says. “We just got home.”
I step in and take my shoes off by the door. She’s barefoot, her hair pulled back and a sweater slung over her shoulders. The scent hits me as soon as the door closes—garlic, something roasted, bread warming...
“Are you interested in a beer? Or something stronger?” she asks as I hang my coat on a hook.
“I would love a beer.” I follow her toward the kitchen. “How is the picking coming? I saw on the news this morning that you were beginning to pick grapes.”
She nods. “We’re getting started with some of the whites, which is mostly what we grow down here.”
Kingston’s voice carries as we approach the kitchen. Low. Mildly irritated. He’s complaining about some kind of missed deadline into his cell phone, which tells me everything I need to know about his mood. He hands me a beer and holds up a finger as he walks back to his office.
“Sorry about that,” she says, watching him go. “Looks like you got a Yellow Dog IPA. Does that work?”
“Perfect.” I look around the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”
“Our housekeeper made a roast with potatoes and root vegetables. Everything she makes is delicious, so I have high hopes. It’s almost ready if you want to sit. Or don’t.”
“I’ll help,” I say automatically.
Elise shoots me a look—not unkind, just knowing I’m not much of a cook.
“You can set the table,” she says. “Simone did the rest. She leaves me simple directions for how to finish things up, and I’m good to go.”
I take plates from the cupboard she points to and move without thinking. There’s comfort in doing something that doesn’t require interpretation.
Elise moves around the kitchen, and after a few minutes, Kingston finishes his call and returns.
“Sorry about that.” He turns to Elise. “They missed the deadline to get the joint overnighted to Florida, so I’ll head out after dinner and deliver it myself. I just called the pilot, and we’ll take off about eleven.”
“Oh no,” Elise says. “When do you think you’ll be back?”
“I may stay for the surgery since this is a new doc for us. But I’ll fly home afterwards. So maybe this time tomorrow night?” Elise nods, and Kingston turns to me. “How was your first week with Dr. Hutchinson?”
“It was great. It’s a lot to get up to speed with, but I know I’ll manage. Hutchinson and his wife leave in the morning for a two-week trip to England for their son’s wedding. So I’m on my own already.”
Kingston pops the top of his beer. “That will give you a taste of what you like and what you may want to change.”
“He has a medical assistant who does all his charting directly into the electronic records, but I won’t need her. Doing that is second nature for me.”
“He is pretty old school.” Kingston reaches for a carrot that Elise just cut, and she swats his hand.
“You’re in a role now that lands you right in the thick of all the drama,” he notes.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, as a GP,” Kingston says, “you see a little of everyone, unless you pass them to a specialist. And around here, they’ll tell you all about the drama in town. These days a lot of it’s about the feud between my family and the Dempseys.”
“Are all the Dempseys involved?”
He shakes his head. “It’s mostly the matriarch, Evelyn, and probably a few others.”
Elise pulls the dinner from the oven and moves it to the table.
“That looks so good,” I tell her.
Elise chuckles. “Simone is a godsend. We’d be lost without her.”
“We’d be skinnier,” Kingston teases.
Elise pulls her phone from her back pocket. “Oh, I got a note from Dad today. He wanted to remind me about a few things to do at the vineyard, which I’d already taken care of, and he said he wouldn’t be back until right before Christmas.”
I nod. “Oh, okay, that works. I should be able to find a place to live by then.”
Kingston cracks a wide grin. “He’s not coming back until after the crush.”
Elise rolls her eyes. “Of course not. He’s going to show up when the work is pretty much over.” She sits down. “I don’t blame him. He just retired in January, and he doesn’t need to be pulled back in.”
“Plus, he has a girlfriend he’s pretty crazy about,” Kingston notes.
Elise holds up her hand. “I’m glad for him, but I don’t want to hear about that. I’d prefer to assume he just had sex once to make me.”
We laugh, and I can’t stop myself from wondering if Addison’s baby will someday say something like that.
And then it all comes rushing back. Until I knew Maryanne was Addison, I’d wondered if the two of us might somehow spend more time together. Do I want to do that if her baby isn’t mine? How will that work if it is mine?
I don’t want to think about this, I remind myself. Not tonight.
We sit without ceremony and fill our plates. Elise talks about the challenges she’s had with some of her staff at the vineyard, and Kingston complains about his unscheduled trip.
I listen. I respond where it’s expected. But I don’t volunteer anything extra.
And they let that be fine.
The relief of that settles into me slowly. Being here without having to explain myself, no one waiting for me to have the answer or fix the problem, is a huge gift. I didn’t realize how rare that’s become.
Elise reaches for my fries like she has every summer since we were kids, not even looking at me when she does it.
“You’re predictable,” I note.
“You like predictable,” she shoots back.
I shrug, and we continue eating, but then halfway through the meal, Elise studies me over the rim of her glass.
“You’re quiet tonight,” she says.
“I’m fine.”
She hums, sounding unconvinced, and nudges her salad around with her fork. “You’ve barely touched your food.”
“I ate lunch late,” I lie.
“Mm-hmm.” She lets that sit, and then adds, “And you haven’t complained once.”
I glance up. “About?”
“Anything,” she says lightly. “Work. Paradise. The usual.”
I shrug and take another bite, suddenly very interested in my plate. “I’m too new. There’s nothing to report.”
Her gaze stays on me a beat longer than comfortable. “Okay,” she says at last, reaching for her wine. “Just checking.”
I meet her eyes and hold them. No deflection. No smile. Something passes between us—not accusation, not concern. Recognition. She knows there’s something here.
She doesn’t push, though. Not yet.
But I know she will.
And for some reason, I think I want her to.
When the plates are mostly cleared, Kingston disappears into his office to take care of a few things before he leaves. Elise and I take our wine into the living room.
“So,” she says. “You’re being careful tonight.”
I don’t look up right away, instead studying my wine. “I’m always careful.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She waits, giving me space to decide whether I’m going to stay where I am or step into it.
I guess I am. I inhale slowly. “I had a patient today.”
She nods. “I bet you had quite a few.”