The Devil Gets His Due (The Devils #4)(73)

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KEELEY





I want the phrase “no good deed goes unpunished” to be written on my grave.

Here’s the score, so far: I stopped drinking and got a real grown-up job. I started saving money and eating salad. I missed out on some well-earned chicken tikka and ruined a very nice pair of shoes to bring a life into the world. And I’m pretty sure I’m now in love with the father of my child, which doesn’t necessarily sound laudable but is way less villainous than previous Keeley iterations.

What do I get in exchange for all this virtuousness? Graham, probably rekindling his relationship with Anna, and Fox making work so unpleasant that no sane person would stay. I’m double-booked all day. I’ve got no lunch break, and my last scheduled patient is coming in at seven-thirty, which means my last actual patient will be arriving an hour after that.

And the really shitty thing—well, there are several really shitty things, of which this is one—is that we are flooded with calls from new patients asking for me. If I’d planned for all this in advance, I’d have gone off on my own before Mindy and Mills ever aired. I doubt any sane bank would have given me the start-up money for office space and equipment, but I picture it anyway: something modern and glamorous, where I’ve stolen Trinny and my favorite nurse and we all work reasonable hours.

But that’s an ideal scenario...and it still falls flat. Even in a perfect situation, I’d still be stuck seeing one patient after another whose greatest complaint is that she’s starting to look old.

There’s nothing wrong with those patients. But they are the grilled chicken and salad of dermatology, and what I want is the chicken tikka and spanakopita. They are the boring parts of Real Housewives where everyone is sober and being polite. I want the part where they’re drunk and accusing each other of shit.

I need a little delicious and exotic and unusual. The occasional guy who turns out to have agyria or ichthyosis vulgaris. I want skin turning blue. I want a kneecap covered in fish scales. I want the cases Dr. Patel pushed me front and center to treat, always finding fault and upbraiding me no matter how well I did.

And I want to discuss this with Graham, along with all the things I’m still not ready to say to him—I don’t know that I can do a relationship because I haven’t really done one before, and I don’t know if he wants one because he’s sure not acting like it—but the one problem I can’t flesh out with him is the one he’s the subject of.

Maybe I’ll try anyway.

Me: Will you be home tonight?

He normally responds fast, but it’s over an hour before I hear back.

Graham: Sorry…had to go to Newport for a family thing and heading to NYC early. Leaving for the airport at four tomorrow morning.

At four? How am I supposed to fake going into labor before he leaves at four? It’s like he did this on purpose to foil me. He knows I won’t wake willingly before seven-thirty, not even for childbirth.

And a family thing he didn’t even invite me to…he’s ghosting me with a level of commitment I’d admire if I wasn’t the recipient.





I call Gemma because I need work advice. I’m also wondering what exactly I wasn’t invited to.

“Let’s get dinner,” she suggests. “Ben’s in Seattle tonight and I’m at loose ends.”

“You’re not…going to the family thing? In Newport?”

“There’s no family thing, as far as I know. Jean has her book club on Tuesday nights.”

“Maybe I misunderstood,” I say quietly.

Except it’s in writing. I didn’t misunderstand. He lied.

We meet at a restaurant between her office and mine. I order a salad to start and asparagus and chicken as an entrée, though I’d really prefer risotto.

“So what’s up with Mandy?” I ask.

Gemma shakes her head. “I can’t believe she dumped him. It was so sudden.”

I blink. “She dumped him? The last I heard, Colin was just worried.”

Her brow furrows. “Oh, yeah, last night after Colin got home, they had a talk and she said she wanted him out.”

Why didn’t Graham tell me this? I mean, I realize that him not telling me isn’t the most important story, but still…why didn’t he tell me?

“Poor Colin. Is he upset?”

She nods. “Yeah, and I guess the last time he went through stuff with a girl he wound up in jail, so they’re all a little concerned.”

“Colin? In jail?”

She shrugs a shoulder. “He was eighteen. It’s not like it was last week. I’m surprised Graham hasn’t told you any of this.”

“He isn’t telling me anything, apparently,” I reply, my voice quieter than it was.

“What happened? You guys seemed to be getting along so well.”

I trail a finger over the condensation on my glass. “We were getting along. And then we slept together.”

“Wow,” she mouths. “I take it that went badly?”

“No,” I moan, pressing my face to my hands. “It was amazing. But, you know, I was the one who didn’t want anything and he’s respecting it, and now I kind of wish—”