Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Our eyes catch and I smile. He dismisses the students he’s with before striding toward me with confident steps.
I can’t fathom that he’s actually mine.
As he approaches, my heart kicks into high gear. I push off the counter at the nurses’ station and tuck my hair behind my ears. Connor notices my reaction and doesn’t hide his grin. I think he likes me flustered.
“How’d it go?” he asks, nodding toward my Band-Aid.
“Easy peasy. We should have the results next week.”
“Good. I—”
His phone vibrates and he reaches down to grab it. I look down too, not even intending to snoop, but well, Shannon’s name pops up on the screen and my stomach clenches with jealousy. It’s a sickening feeling, but I try not to dwell on it. I force my gaze away, not wanting to read his private message. I know Connor isn’t cheating on me. That’s ridiculous. I trust him. I don’t need to ask about the text. I can be an adult about these things.
“Shannon is back in town, apparently.”
I offer a high-pitched hum. “Oh?” I ask, my voice squeaky high. “Dr. Navarro?”
He nods as he types back a reply. “She wants to get dinner tonight.”
Excuse me while I throw up.
“Sounds fun.”
I’m trying here. I really am. He can have friends who are women. I can be mature and trusting and oh hell, I should probably unfurl my fists if I’m trying to come across as cool and calm in this situation.
“Are you up for it?”
I frown. “Up for what?”
“Dinner.”
Oh goodie. This should be fun…
“Connor! Hey!” a soft voice calls from down the sidewalk.
I glance over Connor’s shoulder and see Dr. Navarro dressed to kill in a black pantsuit and pointed heels with tell-tale red soles. Even I know that brand. For a researcher, she sure knows how to dress to impress. Her hair is tucked back into an elegant twist at the base of her neck and she’s smiling broadly as she approaches.
She insisted on eating at Neptune Oyster, a trendy oyster bar in Boston’s North End neighborhood that doesn’t take reservations and usually boasts hour-long wait times. The small restaurant keeps diners squashed in close on stools that run along a marble-topped bar or seated on an equally long banquette. We’ve been out on the curb in line for the last thirty minutes, huddled under an umbrella, waiting for Shannon to join us. Admittedly, I’m less than enthused to be here. I think Neptune Oyster is delicious, don’t get me wrong, but every local knows you’re supposed to go during off hours, like at 2:00 in the afternoon. I’ve been on my feet all day and I would have been just as happy with fast food at this point, especially with the drizzly rain cooling the temperatures to an almost uncomfortable degree. I didn’t plan ahead for this.
Seeing her dressed so nicely makes my already sour mood even less salvageable. Connor and I came straight from the hospital. I thought I had a change of clothes in my locker, but I didn’t, so I’m still in my scrubs. My hair is pulled up into a ponytail that’s more frizzy than usual thanks to the rain. I wish I’d thought to put on lipstick or mascara. Something.
“Hi Shannon,” Connor says with a warm smile.
She leans in and kisses his cheek, and I hold my breath until she steps back and aims a kind smile at me.
“How are you, Natalie? It’s good to see you.”
We do an awkward half-hug, and our instincts are off because we both try to go to the same side and our arms get tangled together. She laughs and I try to force a chuckle as well, but it comes out flat.
There’s something about Shannon I can’t put my finger on. Anyone from the outside looking in would see us all standing there shuffling forward in line and think we’re three friends chatting and getting along, but upon closer inspection, that’s not the case.
After she greets me, Shannon is careful to angle herself in such a way that she’s not ever addressing me directly, always aimed at Connor. When we move forward in line after another party is seated, she steps toward him and I have no choice but to step back to avoid us bumping into each other. Connor tries to get my attention, but I glance across the street, too tired to play this game.
Of course when it’s our turn to be seated, we’re placed at the bar, which means we’re all in a row. Connor isn’t quick enough on the draw, and Shannon claims the middle seat between us, unbuttoning her jacket and draping it on the chair. Underneath, she’s wearing a silky white camisole. On its own, it wouldn’t be appropriate for work, which is why she had the jacket. Now, apparently, she’s overheated. Right.