Chapter 18 EVE #2
I half want to apologize to her for standing up her son in Pittsburgh.
It must be that teacher thing. My mom has the same aura of authority and kindness and calm.
But then, Margaret continues, “Sally also told me you’ve been reading Dante’s Secret and I got to ask…
Would that size be even medically possible?
” she continues as I’m pretty sure my eyes have gone cartoon-wide.
“I saw those videos of a measuring tape and that… size … it can’t be comfortable. For anyone.”
"Honey!" Dr. Harrison pops his head into the waiting area. "I thought I heard your voice. What are you two talking about?"
"Hmm… Zucchinis?" I mutter as Margaret winks at me and I step to the side. "The book’s in the coffee break room, in my bag. I'll get it."
Margaret gives me a smile that makes my throat tight and my heart ache for my parents.
I miss them. Haven't seen them since August when they came to visit me in Chicago, and my last visit to Barnstable was with Chuck for their wedding anniversary. Adam's mom has that same accepting smile, like no matter what, I'll always have a place.
I grab the book, inhale deeply, walk back to the waiting room and hand it over to Margaret Harrison.
"Zucchini, indeed." She takes in Sally's post-it review, her eyes crinkling with amusement behind her glasses. "I hope you'll join us for book club.”
Before I can spontaneously combust, Margaret adds, "My husband told me it’s your lunch break and to not hold you up. Rosie's Corner has the best Cuban sandwich in town.”
"Thank you." I manage to squeak out before fleeing like a properly socialized adult.
And Margaret's warm laugh follows me down the hall. Through the closing door, I hear her tell Dr. Harrison, "Yes, the big Zucchini!"
Despite my mortification, something warm settles in my chest contrasting with the cold biting at my cheek as I step outside.
Everyone on Main Street is smiling like they’re extras in a Hallmark movie: the USPS guy wearing reindeer antlers waves as he delivers packages, there’s a poster for next Friday’s lighting taped to the window of Rosie’s Corner, right next to one advertising a gingerbread house competition.
Adam’s clinic is a sprawling brick building, humming with the holiday rush of emergencies and “to be safe” check-ups.
Past the Small Animals entrance, I find my girls and LoverBoy in what they call the Quiet Room, a special space for anxious pets away from the kennels. Blanche and Dorothy are curled up together with the tiny Chihuahua on a plush bed, looking more relaxed than I’ve seen them in months.
“They’re doing great,” a tech in festive scrubs smiles at me. “Dr. Harrison made sure of it.” She pauses. “Oh, and I heard we might see you at book club. Sally has been showing her measurements on our secret online group. I can send you an invite if you’d like.”
The face I’m making must be a mix of the Grinch, a world-class Resting Bitch Face, and a polite smile. Scary, really. Yet, the tech, whose badge tells me she’s Noelle, because of course this is a Hallmark movie in the making (with more sex. Way. More. Sex.), seems completely unfazed.
“I, um. Not sure. I’m not sure.” A pause. “Thank you, though.”
And right then, Adam strides in and I'm pretty sure I stop breathing for a second, or two. Or three.
His vet coat is open, sleeves rolled up showing forearms (really), his hair slightly messy like he’s been running his hands through it between patients.
I’m half expecting him to lean against the door like a romance hero.
But he doesn’t. Oh, no he…gives me a very focused gaze instead.
Looking serious and very edible, especially now remembering the weight of his body on mine, the graze of his stubble on my inner thighs, and how he talked to Blanche this morning like her anxiety didn’t make her a burden.
That’s because he’s a vet, Eve. Duh.
But while my brain might supply explanations, the heat spreading through me is even reaching my neuropathic fingers.
And then Blanche and Dorothy start whining for him. Of course. At least LoverBoy is cuddling closer in my arms, like he’s telling me he’ll be there for me.
"They’ve been playing all morning, then Blanche was a bit nervous when new pets arrived so I moved them to the quiet area," Adam tells me, straightening up.
I take a brisk step back, clearing my throat. "Thank you."
“How was your first morning at work?”
“Good.” Not thinking about the discussion with his mom, the zucchini, nope. “Good, good.”
“Great.” His tone is amused.
Noelle is straight-up watching us like it’s reality TV and because this town is committed to transforming my life into a rom-com I didn't sign up for: a little girl with pigtails bolts toward him.
“Uncle A! Uncle A!”
“My best friend Wes’s kid,” Adam murmurs as the little girl latches onto his neck.
And I swear, someone took a discreet picture of him. Or… of us as his other hand settles on my lower back sending shivers absolutely everywhere.
"Who are you? Are you Uncle A's love?" The little girl asks, and Noelle chuckles, murmuring "from the mouth of babes, right?
" before whirling around as soon as a tall man with brown skin and kind eyes carrying a plant and a cat carrier enters the room, like she's been shocked by a defibrillator paddle.
"Dad! Dad I'm here!"
The man approaches with the world's most vocal cat, waking my dogs who start their own chorus.
"I'm so sorry," I say, expecting someone to tell me to control them.
Wes chuckles. "If our cat was out, he'd chase them. They're talking." His eyes follow Noelle who's busy with paperwork. "I'm Wes."
"Eve Foster."
"Oh, I know. Pine Creek knows."
Adam's jaw ticks and is it bad I want to trace it with my tongue?
Wes sets down a plant. "Pet-safe Christmas cactus.” He smiles. “Before Sally gives you my life story. I own Oopsie Daisies. And yes, I'm single." His eyes find Noelle, who develops a mysterious cough.
"Nice meeting you," I tell him.
"Same.”
His little girl whirls around. “Are you coming to the tree lighting? It’s so pretty! I’m going, right Dad?”
Wes chuckles. “Yes, Lovey, you’re going. How about you, Eve?”
"Me? I, ugh, I really have to get back to work,” I squeak.
“I’ll see you later?” Adam murmurs.
I nod, handing him LoverBoy, Dorothy and Blanche's leashes and my traitorous body leans toward him like I'm about to kiss him goodbye.
Like we're a couple. Like last night wasn't just mind-blowing sex.
Pivot. Reverse the lean, Eve. I back up too quickly and trip over the leashes.
"Shit—shoot—crap!" I yelp as Adam catches me. And the little girl giggles.
"Got you," Adam rasps.
“Um, thank you. For this… and the dogs… and... Yep. Thanks. Because dogs, food, work.”
“Of course.” He takes my dogs back. And when he smiles again, it’s in the slow, quiet, ruinous way of a man who is tucking this entire moment into his pocket to pull out later, not in a Chuck-You-Suck way, more in a You’re-So-Cute way.
And I’m not cute. Or adorable. Or sweet.
I’m efficient. Dependable. Cold. I didn't even cry during my last scare. Or when I found Chuck with Jennie. Or when I moved out.
"It was nice meeting you," I murmur to the kid, Noelle, Wes, to the room. To no one in particular as I hurry out of there.
His smile lingers on my skin longer than it should. I should be focusing on paperwork or professionalism or... anything other than the way his hands looked holding my dogs like they were precious.
I need air. And food. And distance.
Cuban sandwich. Park bench. Sanity.
The crisp bread, the smoky ham, the tang of pickles, it melts in your mouth, warming you from the inside out. The kind of meal that demands to be eaten without overthinking anything.
Which is exactly what I need right now.
I sit on a Christmas-bow decorated bench in the park reading about Catharina beating Dante at a F1 game, laughing like she’s never laughed in her life, before realizing she showed a mafia boss off.
It’s ten to one by the time I get back to the clinic and there’s a line in the hallway. Liz catches my eye and whispers, "Some of them just want to see you."
Great.