Perfectly Adequate(62)
“Nope. It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises.” I take quick strides toward the elevator.
He stays hot on my heels. “You’re going to like this one.”
Nope. I won’t like it. I’ll just make sure to eat dinner before going out.
“By the way …” I turn after stepping into the elevator.
He follows me, bringing his overpowering scent with him. “Yes?” He flashes me his expensive smile.
“We won’t be having sex on our date.”
“No?” He cocks his head to the side. “You sure about that?”
I stare at the digital floor numbers as the elevator ascends. “Positive.”
He takes a step back and slowly inspects me over the lid of his coffee cup. After a few seconds, his face morphs into something like recognition. “Oh … I get it.”
He does?
How can he so quickly tell that I had hot, pounding, multiple-orgasm sex with Dr. Hawkins? Am I glowing?
“I’ll wait.” He winks, stepping off the elevator a floor before mine. “Message me your address, Dorothy. See you Tuesday.”
*
Elijah
Monday morning I fly to San Francisco for the two-day conference. When I messaged Dorothy Sunday night to tell her goodbye, she gave her usual “Okay, goodbye” reply. She needs her space. I respect that, but it doesn’t make me crave time with her any less.
I tell myself I’ll be cool and not text or call her while I’m traveling, but I can’t lie … I’m a little disappointed she makes no effort to communicate with me. Again, I have to remember Dorothy is not Julie or any other woman I have ever known. So while this is ninety percent a really great thing, I have to deal with the ten percent that sucks. And her lack of need for regular contact with me is that sucky ten percent. It makes me feel needy, and I’m really not a needy person.
“Welcome back. How was the conference?” Warren asks Wednesday morning before rounds as he sips his coffee in the lounge.
“Fine.” I glance at my tablet. “Brandon’s last day of chemo. God … I need this to work.”
“He breezes through everything. I see him getting back on the field next year.” Warren stands and pulls on his lab coat.
“Mmm …” I nod, opening a bottle of water. “I hope so.”
“So … any suggestions for a second date?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask without glancing up from my tablet.
“I took Dorothy to dinner last night. I’m thinking a play or something like that for our next date.”
I lift my gaze slowly to meet his smirk. There is no way I heard him correctly.
“Say that again.”
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
“I took Dorothy to dinner last night—”
“Dorothy Mayhem?”
He laughs. “Uh … yeah. Dude, you were here last week when I sent her the cookie bouquet that you suggested. Remember?”
I nod slowly, clenching my tablet with an iron grip while gnashing my teeth.
“Where you going?” he asks as I pivot and exit the lounge.
Dorothy has school, but I have to text her even if she doesn’t respond. It’s either a text to her phone or a fist in Warren’s face.
Me: We need to talk about your date with Warren.
It takes her an hour to respond. While in the middle of rounds, I glance at my phone screen.
Dorothy: Ugh! He took me on a FONDUE DATE! (five vomit emojis) “Dr. Hawkins?”
I return my attention to the patient’s mom. “Yes?”
Warren has the nerve to frown at me, the way I used to frown at him before I banned him from being on his phone during rounds.
“School. Will she be able to stay in school while receiving radiation?”
I can’t stop thinking about Warren and Dorothy. Even as I spew off my answer to the mom, a woman who deserves my full attention, I can’t shake the anger.
*
Dorothy
After class, I respond to Eli’s last text which was: Dr. Hawkins: I’m either coming to your house or you’re coming to mine, but we are talking tonight.
Me: I’m taking Gemma to car wash dog wash night. (water emoji, dog emoji, car emoji) Dr. Hawkins: Gemma and your dirty car can wait. I can’t.
Dorothy: The free dog wash is only on Wednesdays. (shrug emoji) Me: I don’t give a shit.
Someone is in a bad mood. I’ll pass on that. I shake my head.
Me: Call me tomorrow after the market. See … I’m letting you call me. (smiley emoji, high-five emoji) Dr. Hawkins: I’m going for a run. After I shower, I’m coming to your house. Deal with it.
He really needs to add some emojis. In my head I imagine angry emojis, but he has no reason to be angry … at least, not with me. Maybe he has issues at work or with Dr. Hathaway and needs someone to talk to.
Me: Okay. (smiley emoji, high-five emoji) After a car wash and dog wash, I take my routine walk, eat dinner, shower, and play Xbox, waiting for Eli. At 10:20 p.m., my phone chimes. Stomach-flu Hailey from the ICU messages me—well, it’s actually a group message. I hate group messages.
Hailey: OMG – Dr. Hawkins is seriously injured!
I stare at my screen, not fully believing what’s popping up—the long string of responses from everyone else in the group text. I have nothing to say because my brain is stuck in denial.