Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Anyone at the new job?” Nathan asks.
Since when has he become invested? I pull my eyebrows together, confused as to how Nathan got recruited into Sutton and Madison’s mission to get me married off. “No.”
“Don’t worry, mate, it will happen for you when you’re least expecting it.”
“Jesus, you lot, leave me alone. Getting laid isn’t my first priority.”
“That’s right,” Jacob says. “How’s the new practice? If you let me have some business cards, I can hand them out.”
“Thanks,” I reply. “I’m actually having a sandwich board made up. I thought maybe you could do a few hours in the cafeteria a couple of times a week?”
“Your mood is particularly pleasant today,” Jacob says.
“All the better for seeing you,” I reply.
“Knock it off, you lot,” Sutton says. “Leave Zach alone. He can’t help it if he’s perfect and you’re jealous.”
I knew there was a reason why I liked Sutton. “I’m not perfect.”
She pats me on the arm. “Of course you are. We all know it. Your brothers are just angry they’re not just like you.”
“I’m. Not. Perfect.”
Nathan starts handing out wineglasses, and for some reason, I can’t just accept the glass and take a sip. It’s like I’ve been set at a simmer for years and all of a sudden I’m boiling over left and right. “No,” I say.
Nathan pauses and then hands the glass to Jacob. “Would you prefer white?”
“No,” I repeat. I don’t know what I’m saying no to. Nathan always has great wine. It’s like my feelings about the job are just seeping out all over the place—
No, I don’t like my new private practice.
No, I don’t have any patients.
No, I don’t want to be a doctor.
No. No. No.
“Are you okay?” Jacob asks as he sets his wineglass down.
I shake my head. “No. I just—no.” I turn toward the door. I need some air. I need to get away from people, my family, all the questions.
“Hey,” Nathan calls after me down the hallway and I stop, turn, and wait for him to catch up to me. “What’s going on? You can talk to us. I know it’s stressful starting up a new business and everything, but you’re going to be fine.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.” I glance over his shoulder. Everyone’s continuing as usual in the kitchen. I lower my voice. “I know all the things I should have done by now to get the new practice going. I haven’t done any of them. I haven’t got a website, or systems in place. I certainly don’t have any patients. And you know what, Nathan? It feels fucking fantastic. I don’t want any patients. I like the peace and quiet.” I push my hands through my hair. It feels like I’m freewheeling downhill and there’s no stopping what I’m going to say next. “I hate being a doctor. I’ve never liked it. I’ve put up with it. I’m good at it. It comes easy to me, but I don’t enjoy it.”
He leans against the wall like his legs are too weak to hold him upright.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Sorry? What are you sorry for? I’m sorry you’ve been faking it all this time and I never realized?”
“Is everything okay?” Madison calls down the hallway.
Nathan nods. “Fine.” He lifts his chin. “We won’t be long.”
He peels into his study and I follow and he shuts the door behind us. “Have you always hated medicine?”
I sigh. I feel bad that of all the people I finally boil over on, it’s Nathan. He was forced out of medicine, and has always felt like the black sheep of the family as a result. He would love to be in my shoes now, and I feel selfish for unloading on him. “I shouldn’t have said all that.”
“Of course you should, if it’s how you feel. I can’t believe you haven’t said anything before. Has the private practice made things worse?”
I collapse in one of his bottle-green velvet chairs by the desk. “It’s just given me a bit more time to think. Usually, I’m so busy, I don’t really realize that I don’t like it. I just get on with it. But now I’ve had some time to myself—time when I should be thinking about how to build my practice and what I want out of the next ten years—all I can think about is how I don’t want to be practicing medicine anymore.”
Nathan pulls in a breath like I’ve just told him I’m cheating on my wife. “Do you know what you do want to do?”
I’m not sure I’m ready to tell him what I really want to do. The problem is, I’m not sure I can keep it in. “I want to write.”
He frowns. “Write what?”
“Books. Cozy mysteries. Thrillers. That kind of thing.”
“Wow. Okay. So, you want to go back to university and study?”