Leaning in, she whispers, “I think it’s a mother’s right to know exactly when her daughter got her nipples pierced.”
This is my worst nightmare. This, right here. Sitting next to my mom, freshly showered and scrubbed—thanks to her assistance—getting questioned about my pierced nipples. I knew coming back to Marina Island would be difficult, but I didn’t think it was going to start like this.
“It wasn’t in Prague.”
“Greece?”
“No.”
“Australia? Those Aussies have a way of convincing people.”
“What? Where did you get that idea from?”
“Their accents. They’re so alluring.”
“You need help.” Desperate for a distraction, I glance around the old converted Victorian home. “When did the doctor’s office switch to this? Who feels comfortable getting checked out in an old mansion? Kind of freaky, don’t you think?” The living room is filled with seats and couches that are far from modern or stylish. And, according to the sign, the “exam room” looks to be in the dining room, shut off by a pocket door. Call me skeptical, but this doesn’t read “doctor’s office.” And yet, no one seems to care.
“Do you seriously not remember anything from last night?” Mom asks.
“No. Why? Did I ask the same question then?”
Before she can respond, the door opens to another room, and a nurse comes out, holding a tablet.
“Palmer Chance, we can bring you back now.”
“Bring me back”？ That’s a term nurses use when they’re weaving with a patient through a hallway, not through a doorway.
As I stand, Mom joins me, and I shoot her a look. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Going back with you.”
“Mom, I’m twenty-seven. Pretty sure I can handle a follow-up appointment.”
“Is that so?” she asks with a raise of her brow. “What exactly happened to you, again?”
“You know . . . the whole wrist thing and then, uh . . .” I pause and think about it, but nothing comes to mind. “Ugh, fine. Come on.”
With a smirk, she places her hand on my back, and we walk into the exam room together. I take a seat on the table while Mom takes a seat in a chair. The room is a light-teal color with dark-stained wood, a combination I don’t care for too much. But the curtains are a nice soft touch to the sterile space.
“How are you feeling this morning?” the nurse asks.
Other than trying to scrub the thought of my mom bathing me out of my memory, completely fine.
“Little confused about how this all happened, slightly in pain, partially embarrassed—do you have any medications for that?” I joke.
The nurse smiles. “I’ll ask Dr. Beau.”
Dr. Beau . . . Beau . . . my stomach drops for a brief second before I shake off that feeling. No, it’s just a coincidence. Dr. Beau—he must be new.
The nurse takes my vitals and asks me a few questions, and then she enters some notes into her tablet. “Dr. Beau will be right with you.” She closes the pocket door, and I can hear her still tapping away on her tablet on the other side.
Not wanting to talk about my health, or the bomb that was dropped last night, I revert to an easy topic—the party. “So, Cooper ordered a cake?”
“He did. I believe it’s some sort of butterscotch thing.” Mom folds her hands on her lap as she takes in the exam room. “Those curtains are quite lovely.”
“Butterscotch?” I grimace. “Why would he choose that? God, first an email for invites, now a butterscotch cake? What is going on with him?”
“I think he’s stressed. We’ve been asking a lot of him lately. I believe he’s overwhelmed. And butterscotch is a nice flavor.”
“Well, then he needs to speak up.” I brush a piece of lint off my leggings. “If he’s overwhelmed, then I can take over. Butterscotch cake . . . honestly. You two are old, but you’re not unsophisticated.”
Just then the door slides open, and in walks a tall man in a pair of navy-blue chinos, a white polo shirt, and a matching white lab coat. His short brown hair is styled to the side, typical brown boots finish off his casual outfit, and when he looks up with a smile, his hazel eyes meet mine.
Well, hello, Dr. Beau.
“Palmer, how are you feeling?”
Oh, look at him coming in with a deep, masculine voice—a voice that oddly feels familiar . . .
Do I know this guy?
Mentally taps chin