“It’s a special occasion,” I remind her. “We might as well just get it over with. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” she grumbles. “You’re not the one in the hot seat. My gran grills me enough as it is. I bet her and your mother gang up on me. We’re going to have to spend the entire night dodging baby talk.”
I can’t pretend the idea of it doesn’t make my stomach swoop, but there’s plenty of time for that later.
“Now you know how it feels,” I laugh, thinking back to that harrowing night when she took me to meet her gran. Things had been very different then.
“Parker is bringing his boyfriend,” she tells me. “His name is Vaughn. He’s very chatty. Maybe he’ll keep the old women busy.”
“One can only hope,” I murmur.
“I heard about today, by the way,” she says with a teasing tone. “One of your patients sent you flowers?”
I feel heat rising in my cheeks. “She was just grateful that I took such good care of her.”
“Should I be jealous, Dr. Taylor?”
I scoff. “She’s seventy-four.”
“Your skiing accident was a seventy-four-year-old woman?”
“Apparently, Mrs. Wythers and her husband decided it was time to strike skiing from their bucket list.”
“Wow, I have to admire her tenacity.”
“She was definitely a character. Insisted I call her Wanda and refused to let the nurses help her to the bathroom.”
“Come to think of it, how did you end up with a ski accident patient?”
“Evidently, she’s suffered a heart attack before, and came in with worrisome angina after a fall.”
“Wow, I hope her handsome cardiologist didn’t give her an arrythmia.”
I roll my eyes. “She’s seventy-four, for goodness’ sake.”
“Sounds like she’s been around long enough to know what she’s doing, sending you those flirty flowers,” Mackenzie deadpans.
I groan. “Please don’t put those images in my head.”
“Fine, fine,” she laughs. “You sure have come a long way from making nurses cry.”
I roll my eyes; I haven’t heard this one in months. I’d thought （hoped） she’d forgotten about it. “How many times do I have to tell you? That was—”
“—grossly overexaggerated,” she chuckles. “Yeah, I know.”
“Here we are,” I point out, slowing down so I can turn into the driveway of my parents’ place.
“God, I can’t ever get over how huge their house is,” Mackenzie marvels. “Are we sure they aren’t aristocracy?”
I shake my head, shifting into park as I come to a stop behind what I recognize as Mackenzie’s grandparents’ car. “I’m sure.”
She nods to herself, as if she’s psyching herself up, and I reach to cup her jaw, stroking my thumb there. “Hey.” She turns to look at me with worried eyes. “It’s going to be fine,” I promise. “Everyone in there loves you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I love you.”
“Okay.” She nods again, surer this time. “Okay. You’re right.”
“I know.”
I open the car door to move around to the passenger side, pulling open her door and extending my hand to help her out. She looks stunning in a deep olive dress that makes her hair appear brighter, but all I’m thinking about is how I’d like to pull the pins out of her hair and wrap my fingers in it—but I imagine that’s not what she needs right now.
She still looks focused, like she’s giving herself a mental pep talk, only coming out of it when the door shuts behind her. She glances at me then with a raised eyebrow, looking distracted. “Hey, Noah . . .”
I pause with my hand at her waist. “Yeah?”
“Why was that nurse crying?”
My lips twitch, and I shrug lightly. “Her contact ripped. I’m told it’s a very painful experience.”
“Oh my God.” Her mouth parts in surprise. “Really? That’s it?”
“Does it shatter the illusion?”
“Of course it does. How can I continue using my ‘the boogeyman belongs to me’ card to get free cookies from the cafeteria?”
“Have you actually been doing that?”
“No,” she admits. “But I sure as hell won’t be able to if the truth gets out. You’d better keep it to yourself.”