Full Package(14)

“Besides missing pizza?”

She smiles. “Besides pizza, though I do understand that kind of empty ache.”

“Especially for a cheese pie with mushrooms.”

“Your favorite,” she says.

Absently, I rub my hand over her arm as I cycle back to the days in the Central African Republic. “Obviously, the suffering that we witnessed.”

“Of course,” she says, her tone serious. “That must have been so hard.”

“It was. But on a more personal level, since I think that’s what you’re asking, I would say it was missing friends,” I say with a sigh. “I missed Max, even though he’s a pain, and Wyatt, too. I missed talking to friends who aren’t in medicine. Just chatting about something other than work or doctor stuff.”

“You’re a social person,” she says, her voice soft.

I nod. “Always have been. I loved your emails, though,” I say, remembering how Josie kept in touch with me. She consistently sent me updates, more than anyone else. “I’d get excited just seeing your name in my Gmail inbox.”

She smiles widely. “Really?”

I nod. “Yeah. It was an amazing experience being there, but I did miss home, and getting your notes was like receiving a little piece of New York every time you wrote. Like the time you told me about the woman who ordered a cake for herself from her dogs. How when she picked it up, she said, ‘My dogs ordered me a cake.’”

Josie laughs. “She was adorable. She was a writer. She’d just hit a bestseller list, and she said her dogs wanted to congratulate her with a cake.”

“What a lovable nut. And you totally went along with it.”

Josie juts up a shoulder. “Of course. I said, ‘Satchel and Lulu are so very proud of you. Here’s the chocolate layer cake they ordered just for you.’”

“You probably made her day. Hell, that story alone made mine. What didn’t help was the picture you sent along of the cake, you temptress,” I say, narrowing my eyes.

“You missed my cake. So sweet.”

A smile tugs at my lips. A wistful one. “I missed you, too.”

“You did?” she asks, her voice softer than usual, less teasing.

“Of course. You’re one of my best friends.”

“Right. Totally. Same here.” She clears her throat. “Did you make new friends in Africa?”

“Definitely. I became friends with some of the other doctors and nurses.”

“Nurses?” A tightness threads through her voice. I haven’t heard that tone before. For a flicker of a second it sounds almost like jealousy. But that’s ridiculous. We’ve been friends for too long for things to change between us.

“A group of us became close. Camila, this hip nurse from Spain with crazy tattoos down her arms, was awesome.”

“A Spanish nurse? Covered in ink?” she asks, like this is the most difficult concept, or the most annoying.

“Yes. She was a riot. Always telling funny stories about the guys back home. And a doctor from England, George. And another doc from New Zealand. His name was Dominic, and he had the perfect deadpan sense of humor. That was our crew.”

“Did anyone have a vein fetish like you?”

I wiggle my eyebrows. “They would have if a specimen such as yourself had been around to provide doctor porn,” I say, and grab her arm again, running my finger along her vein as if I’m mesmerized.

For a brief second, her breath catches. The soft, barely-there hair on her arm stands on end. A strange sensation runs down my spine, as if I’m floating.

Which makes no sense, so I shove the idea away.

I look away from her arm and meet her green eyes. There’s something different in them. Something I haven’t seen before. I don’t know what it is. I can’t name it.

“I’ve been using your hairbrush,” I blurt out. I’m not entirely sure why I’m confessing right now, but here, with those wide eyes staring into mine, I can’t help myself.

Her mouth lifts. “I know.”

“You don’t mind?”

She leans forward and runs a hand through my hair. That strange feeling? It doubles. It triples. It multiples exponentially. “No. But I think you’d look nice with pink hair someday.”



* * *



Five



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The smells.

The other thing about living with a woman is that everything smells good. The bathroom is like an opium den of feminine delights. Most days, Josie wakes up before me and leaves right when I rise. When I enter the bathroom, it’s like wandering into a lair of womanhood.

I stand and inhale.

Cherry scents and swirling aromas of vanilla sugar lotion and honeysuckle body wash linger in the air, like a fucking delicious dirty dream. Every morning, I’m enrobed in the scent of woman. It’s sweet and seductive and intoxicating, and it smells like her.

In short, it’s the fucking perfect environment for a shower jerk.

What? Do you blame me? I wake up with wood, and I’m alone under a hot stream. Of course I do some morning handiwork.



* * *



Six



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That’s the other thing about living with a woman that a man just has to battle. Something he can’t avoid.