2. Bobby
2
Bobby
Dr. Perfect
I’ve forgotten how many times I’ve been in this situation over the last eight years—outside some high-end store, a bar, or a nightclub, leaning against my car, arms crossed with worry in my mind as I wait for Claire Carter.
I’m sick of all the shenanigans, yet I still come to her rescue because…well, what else am I supposed to do? She’s my best friend.
We met at NYU during an orientation program for freshmen. Everyone was interested in this crazy, unfazed girl who spoke up against welcome traditions for freshmen on campus, using clear, vulgar words that left most of the professors red-faced. I found it refreshing, starkly contrasting the strict rules I was raised under.
Getting close to her, I soon learned the brave face is just a front, and Claire and I are similar in many ways. We became best friends quickly and kept up after our graduations. She decided to stay and not go back home to Dallas, so we spent a lot of time together navigating life's hurdles after college.
My phone buzzes in my hand. I tap on the AirPod fixed in my right ear to take the call. “You done yet?”
“Done with what?”
The familiar gruff and masculine baritone that fills my ear is way different from Claire’s high-pitched soprano that I expect.
“Tom,” I call out softly.
The voice belongs to Tom Roland, my friend and founding partner of TenderCare — a general care practice. We’ve been buddies from my early days at Grossman School of Medicine.
A car flits across the busy street, its impatient driver filling the air with a loud horn.
“Where the heck are you, man?” Tom barks his inquisition.
“Fifth Avenue.”
“What the?” he teases. “You finally got a girlfriend?”
“What about me being on Fifth Avenue makes you think that?”
He laughs. “The high-end stores, Bob. But you should know that flowers might be better for a first date than getting something from millionaire’s row. You might get her hooked, you dummy.”
“I’m here with Claire,” I retort.
“ Oh . Well, that’s unfortunate.” Tom didn’t bother to hide his disappointment.
It’s safe to say that he and Claire hate each other’s guts, and Tom has always claimed that she’s one of the biggest reasons I’m yet to find myself a girlfriend.
He snickers. “Here I am daring to hope that there’s finally hope for you.”
“Pipe down over there.”
“You’re gonna die alone, aren’t you? And I’ll have to check in on you every week when we’re old and gray to make sure you’re still ticking.”
I can picture Tom’s wide, mocking grin as he leans back in that huge massage chair in the corner of his office. His relaxed tone proves he’s in there right now, probably in a food coma preparing for a power nap.
“I got time, dude. I’m still young… ish .”
“Those gray hairs will come in sooner than you think. Hope you get back in the dating pool soon. Speaking of dating, Felicity asked me about you during our session today, and I told her I’d talk to you—”
“So we’re gonna break DPR ethics now?”
“Technically speaking, she’s not a patient,” Tom challenges. “Her brother’s the one who needs the bone marrow transplant.”
True, but I’m still not entertaining a patient’s relative, not when there are about four million other women in this city. I know Tom. He didn’t just reach out about my love life—we see each other in person often enough for him to nag me about that without using up airtime.
“What’s up, Tom. Why did you really call?”
He sighs—a clear sign he’s switching to seriousness. “Your dad called.”
That’s bad news. No news is the best news when it comes to Liam Sawyer. When I moved out for college, I’d foolishly thought that was the end of dealing with my old man. College was my escape, my chance to choose my own career path, and not be pummeled with the demands of living someone else’s dream.
“What did he say?”
Tom clears his throat. “He offered me a deal.”
Sounds exactly like Dad.
Even after college, I was only able to hide my whereabouts for three months before he found out where I lived, where I worked, and who my friends and colleagues were. He somehow tailed my activities, even while running a multi-billion-dollar corporation.
The thing that I can’t stand most about him is that he doesn’t let things go until he gets his way. I don’t know how my older brother, Henry, has been able to deal with working under him for his entire life. He has no mind of his own. I hated living under my dad’s strict rules and expectations of running the family business in a suit from an office, so I chose to stay away. I’m much more of an in-the-weeds type of guy. I wanted to be in the field with patients. I could care less about the corporate world.
And now this. He’s messing with my partner at work.
I take a deep breath and run a hand through my hair. “What’s the deal about?”
“An official recognition at the Sawyer Medical Awards next month, a partnership deal, and a fifteen percent price cut on orders from Sawyer Pharmaceuticals.”
“Tom,” I call out softly. “We don't need SMAs hanging on our walls, do we? We’re doing well, buddy. Like, business is good. We have more patients than we can handle.”
“This eclipses doing well, Bob. This puts us on a whole different level.”
“C’mon, man,” I mutter under my breath.
“Dude! This is it!” Tom chuckles dryly.
“What happened to your pride with getting things done your own way?”
He clucks his tongue. “I became an entrepreneur, Bob. That’s big in itself and good deals are the crux of our capitalist world.”
“There’s gotta be a catch…what is it?” I speculate.
“You get a mandatory one-month vacation, and I convince you to go home during your time off — all without making it obvious to you, of course.”
“And that’s everything?”
Tom laughs. “Yep. I’m not letting your dad sneak up on me by breaking this to you later and then I lose your trust. I want to keep both the deal and my partner.”
As I open my mouth to respond, Claire steps out of the store, with a frown etched on her face. My eyebrows spike up in curiosity—the last thing you see on Claire Carter’s face after stepping out of a jewelry store is a frown.
“Can we talk about this later, Tom? I’ll be in the office soon.”
I end the call before Tom can say anything more and wave at Claire across the street. As soon as she sees me, she walks over. Striding confidently, her silk scarf drops from her shoulders, swishing from her arms to reveal her slender figure in a shimmering champagne-colored dress.
She barely crosses the road before she whips off her sunglasses, launching into a tirade.
"There you are! It would be just my luck today if you left me here alone.”
“Well,” I said, letting a smile spread across my face. “If you'd been five minutes longer, you might have cashed in on that luck."
“ Ugh . Not you, too.” She shakes her head vigorously. “Why are all the men in my life disappointing?”
I have my comeback on my lips, but then I see the sheen of tears in her eyes. My playful facade falters, replaced by genuine concern.
"What’s wrong?" I push off the car and walk closer, my brow furrowing.
"Fiona ruined everything," she blurts, slumping against the car door.
Claire has never learned how to bottle up frustration, especially when she’s with me. Right now, the signs are all there—shoulders slumped slightly, hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"Gramps put a hold on my spending," she continues tensely. "He says the only way I get it back is if I bring my… boyfriend to the family gathering next week."
I stare at her for a beat, processing her words. Then, a snort escapes my lips, quickly morphing into a full-blown laugh. "Seriously, Claire? Karma’s biting you where the sun doesn't shine this fast?"
She swats at my chest weakly, and I quickly step back, still laughing.
"It's not funny, Bobby! I probably can't afford anything now, not even groceries. Fiona, that venomous snake, went running to Gramps to tell him about us. Whatever she said and however it came off definitely influenced his decision to cut me off. It doesn’t make any sense."
“You were the one who wanted to show off a fake boyfriend.”
She scowls at me, then opens my car’s door and slides into the passenger seat.
I walk around the car, climb behind the wheel and slowly pull the car away from all the glitz and glamour.
She takes one last look at the disappearing jewelry shop and sighs. “I couldn’t let Fiona just walk all over me. Maybe Gramps is upset he had to hear it from her first. He did say I haven’t called in a while. Ugh! ”
“So now what are you gonna do?”
I watch the worry in her eyes, the humor in the situation dying down and replaced by a thoughtful silence. Claire scratches the back of her neck, a nervous habit I know all too well. I watch her as she grabs a hair tie, plants it between her clenched teeth and proceeds to gather her hair up to tie it.
The action reveals a long, graceful neck. I swallow and keep my eyes on the road.
"I dunno," she admits. “I just know that I’m not even sure I can pay the bills next month.”
“I warned you, Carter. You work at a bookstore. Instead of using your family’s money for rainy days, you splurge on stuff you don’t even need.”
She rolls her eyes. "Maybe I should just pack my bags and move in with you. You’re doing just fine without your dad’s empire backing you. You can do it for both of us now."
She’s right, but I still have to pay off some of this lingering med school debt.
“Hey!” I nudge her playfully. "Trust me, you’ll hightail your luxurious lifestyle out of there when you eat fast food for two days straight. Remember, I don’t cook."
"Yeah, yeah. Maybe moving in with you is a bad idea. I’d probably drive you up a wall with all my neediness." She crinkles her face. "Now I gotta find a boyfriend ready to walk into a cave full of loony-tunes Carters in time for next week’s charades."
"Good luck there,” I murmur, more to myself than to her.
Claire and I have dated people on and off over the years, but nothing ever seems to really work out for either of us. Our relationships seem promising at first, but they always fizzle out, leaving us back where we started—just the two of us.
“It’s impossible to find someone who won’t cave when Gramps and the rest of the family grills him, and I’ve already shown you to Fiona…”
Suddenly, a mischievous glint appears in her eyes.
"Wait a minute," she exclaims, a slow smile spreading across her face. "You! You gotta come as my boyfriend!"
I raise an eyebrow. “Jeez, Claire. If you wanted to date me, all you had to do was ask. No need for the elaborate ruse.”
She playfully slaps my arm. “Oh, stop it. It would just be pretend, and only for a little while.”
The smug smirk on my face disappears. I lean in closer, letting my voice drop to a whisper. “Now I think you’re the crazy one.”
“C’mon, no one knows me like you do. And you’re the only obvious option I have.”
“Heck no!" I shake my head, immediately stepping on the accelerator. “I need to drop you off and get back to work.”
“Please, Bobby. Think about it.”
“Thought about it. Answer’s still the same. N.O.P.E. Nope.”
***
I walk past life-sized skeletons and medical mannequins that line the hallway of TenderCare, Claire's outlandish proposition still reverberating in my head.
Images flash in my head of me in the center of the Carter family drama—playing house with a sea of unfamiliar Carters while sipping margaritas.
I shake my head. No . It would be too crazy to get sucked into that vortex.
Besides, I have a bunch of appointments and responsibilities. A month-long detour to play pretend is out of the cards.
I’ve barely reached my office floor when Laura, my assistant, steps up, clad in her crisp blue scrubs.
"Dr. Sawyer," Laura chirps with the radiating smile she never seems to lose. "Dr. Roland asked earlier if you've reviewed Mrs. Peterson's X-rays yet. And your four o'clock with Mr. Johnson needs to be rescheduled. He has a family emergency."
My phone buzzes. A glance at the screen shows me a text from Tom.
T. Roland: Get over here already.
Before I can type out my reply, he adds another word.
T. Roland: Now!!!!
"Thanks, Laura," I interrupt as she rattles off the latest on patients and appointments. “I gotta meet with Tom now. I’ll circle back with you for the rest of the updates.”
My legs eat up the ground to Tom’s office. Pushing open the door, I find him studying a medical chart.
"Took you long enough," he drawls without looking up. "Spending some quality time with the heiress?"
"Her name’s Claire," I retort, tossing my coat onto a chair.
"Riiiight.” His eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief. “So, when are you both gonna just stop playing these games and tell yourselves the truth about your feelings for each other?”
I groan. "Dude. Enough with the nonsense. This is about my dad’s offer, right?"
I do wonder, sometimes, what could have happened years ago if we toyed with the idea of giving us a try. There were so many late-night hangouts in our early days of friendship where I swore there was some chemistry brewing between us, but I didn’t act on it. I didn’t want to risk it getting weird if things didn’t work out. Anyway, that ship has sailed.
Tom sits up, the juvenile facade melting away. "He wants an answer, Bob. Today."
The decision looms over me like a dark storm cloud. It would be stupid for Tom not to jump on this chance to haul TenderCare to the big leagues.
"You know a deal with my dad is a deal with the devil, right?" I mutter, slouching into a chair.
Tom snorts. "Some deals are worth the sacrifice. Look, your father might be tough, but this offer could change everything. Having his name tied to us would allow us to expand our practice." He pauses, his gaze turning serious. "And let's face it, Bob. You can use the rest. You've been burning the candle at both ends for the past five years. You need a break."
I stare out the window, the cityscape blurring past. Tom's right. One of the reasons I hustled so hard without a break is that I need TenderCare to succeed, so I don’t regret not joining the family business like my dad wanted. The road to TenderCare being identified as one of the best specialist clinics would be smoother with a partnership with an industry mammoth like Sawyer Pharmaceuticals.
"He’ll tell us what to do every step of the way, you know. There will be no “our” decisions anymore,” I explain.
Tom stares back at me blankly.
“Okay," I agree, hesitantly. “But I’m only doing this for you.”
Tom leans across his table and smacks my arm. “I’m not crazy. That’s the only reason I’m letting you go for a whole month, bro.”
“You can tell him you’ve done your convincing.”
I tilt my head back and look at the ceiling. Why do all roads lead back to him? A forced partnership and a forced vacation.
Great.
Tom nods, “Thanks, man.”
Leaving Tom's office, I pull out my phone and dial Henry's number. I know there must be a reason my dad is strongly pushing me to come home this time, and only my brother can answer me.
"Hey, Bob.” The familiar voice tinkling through the receiver isn’t Henry’s. It's his wife’s.
"Hey, Maya. Is Henry around?"
"He is, but he's not taking calls right now," she replies cautiously.
“Why, what’s going on?”
There's a pause, and then Maya continues, "Listen, Bob, there's been some tension between him and your dad lately. I heard you might be coming home. I have a feeling that’s…well, let's just say it might not entirely be about you."
My eyebrows furrow. Henry and dad clashing isn't exactly news. Maya’s probably right. This whole move is my father’s ploy to get leverage over Henry. But why?
"Thanks for letting me know, Maya," I reply, a knot of worry tightening in my stomach. "I appreciate you looking out for me."
"Anytime, Bob," she says warmly.
The last thing I want is to get between Henry and Dad’s disagreements over their business. That’s another reason why I left home. There’s no way I’m going over there to be a pawn in his game of getting me to flip Henry’s mind.
Suddenly, Claire’s outrageous pitch isn't such a crazy idea after all.
With a sigh, I scroll to Claire’s name. Going home is a nightmare compared to a month in Dallas playing pretend boyfriend to my best friend.