Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
By the time I realized Coralee was more than friends with the sculptor across the street from our office, she was pregnant with his child. She told me about the pregnancy over our twelfth anniversary dinner. She calmly explained that, for her, our connection had run its course, and promised she’d have her things moved out of the house and office by the end of the weekend.
She didn’t cry. Neither did I.
We didn’t shout or argue or fling insults at each other. I simply asked her why she wasn’t honest with me from the beginning, when she first started having feelings for someone else, and she said, “I don’t know, Connor. I guess sometimes even logical people do illogical things when it comes to love.”
Love…
Hearing her say the word in reference to someone else cut through me with a surgeon’s precision. She carved out my heart and left me sitting at the table alone with a happy anniversary dessert for two. I gave the cake to a teen couple sneaking cigarettes in the town square and went to stay with my parents until Coralee was finished moving out.
That was when the idea of Petey joining my practice was born. My mother insisted it would be perfect—Petey was only one year away from finishing his residency in pediatrics. I could hire a physician’s assistant to help me manage my patient load until then, and then he would step in to fill Coralee’s shoes.
But Petey could never fill Coralee’s shoes. Not in any way. Not as a business partner and sure as hell not as a physician.
My brother barely passed his courses in pre-med, slipped through med school by the skin of his teeth, and has already received two written warnings for negligence during his residency. He’s a nightmare with zero empathy for others, and I love my patients far too much to expose them to Dr. Petey Sinclair.
I told myself that’s why I sold the practice—without my help, my brother won’t be able to practice in our hometown, and the kids I care about will be safe—but that’s not the complete truth.
A part of me is desperate to get out of Bad Dog, away from my overbearing parents and the ghost of Coralee haunting our condo.
Getting away from the very alive Coralee currently wandering around town, hugely pregnant and glowing with love for her artist husband is also pretty high on my list.
Until tonight, I couldn’t wait to leave. The hours were dragging by with torturous lethargy.
Then, I ran into Wendy Ann McGuire, all grown up and as beautiful and brilliant as any woman I’ve ever met, and suddenly I’m wishing I had more time.
“Your move,” she says, her eyes glittering across the chessboard as she reaches for her glass of wine. “That is, of course, if you can find one that won’t lead to certain doom.”
I glance at the pieces but almost immediately find my gaze drifting back up to my date’s flushed cheeks.
Can this really be considered a date if all I did was kidnap her from a wedding, bring her home, and ply her with wine, cookies, and chess? Even if we end up sleeping together, this won’t really qualify as a “date.”
In the car on the way over, the possibility that we might not end up in bed never entered my mind, but once we arrived at my condo, she seemed nervous, her big blue eyes darting anxiously around the room as I led her into the kitchen and asked her what kind of wine she’d prefer.
She didn’t fully settle until I suggested a game of chess while we enjoyed our wine and maple cookies, but I understand cold feet. I almost proposed to Coralee ten times before I was finally ready to pop the question. One of the major drawbacks of having an active brain is the tendency to overthink things.
Sometimes, I actually envy my little brother’s impulsivity. Sure, it usually leads to chaos, but at least he gets things done…even if they’re the wrong things.
“Do you need a hint?” Wendy Ann asks. “There’s still one choice that won’t put you in checkmate.”
I shake my head, a smile curving my lips. “No, I don’t need a hint. I was just wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me tomorrow night.”
Her brows lift and some of the sparkle leaves her eyes.
I lift a hand, fingers spread. “Or not. No pressure. If you’re only up for tonight, that’s fine.”
“It’s not that.” She takes another sip of her wine, holding it in her mouth for a beat before she swallows. Then, she sets her glass carefully down on the table beside the board, sighing as she adds in a softer voice, “I just… I’m having a really wonderful time.”
Spirits lifting, I say, “Me, too.”
Her lashes flutter faster. “Like, really wonderful. Maybe…the best time I’ve ever had on a date.”