“I—” I can feel my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “Morning.” I’m distracted all over again by the sight of her in nothing but a bra and her scrub pants, her skin pink and fresh from a shower and her smile bright as she closes the distance from what I assume is her bathroom to plop down on the other side of the bed. “Did you . . . sleep okay?”
“Like a log,” she laughs. “You’re kind of cushiony under all the muscle. What about you? I was surprised you’re not a snorer. I had you pegged as one.”
I can feel myself gaping a little still, her completely normal attitude taking me by surprise. Hadn’t I been worried about everything going to shit only a minute ago? But here she is, acting like nothing even happened.
“I slept fine,” I tell her, watching her as she casually undoes the towel from her head and begins to comb through the wet strands that fall tantalizingly over her breasts, which I can almost still feel against my hands and tongue. “Very good, actually.”
“Told you so.” She stops what she’s doing to crawl over the bed, pushing up to press her mouth to mine. “Sex addenda are great.”
I don’t know what surprises me more, her casual demeanor, or the way that I melt into her kiss even after all my worrying only moments ago. Her fingers slide across my jaw to hold me close, a smile at her lips when she breaks away to linger near my mouth.
“Yes,” I murmur. “Great.”
She gives me another quick peck before pulling away entirely. “You’d better get in the shower. I think someone really will pass out from shock if you’re late.”
She saunters from the bed to grab her top from where it’s draped over a nearby chair by the window, pulling it on unceremoniously before giving me a wink.
“At least you won’t have to scent me anytime soon,” she teases.
I watch her disappear into the bathroom again before a hairdryer sounds only seconds later, feeling exponentially more confused than I had when I woke up. It seems that I had been worried for nothing.
And why is that even more concerning?
* * *
?My confusion ends up coloring the rest of my day, as I find myself out of sorts from the moment Mackenzie and I part ways at her apartment. I’ve tried my best to go about business as usual, but besides the confounded state of my brain in regard to Mackenzie and what we did and what it means—there is also the all-too-vivid memory of the actual act that is doing its best to ensure I can’t focus today.
Because in every quiet moment there is the echo of Mackenzie’s gasps, her soft moans, and in each instance that I find myself alone there is the expression on her face when I pushed inside her waiting to throw off my day, the way she’d felt around me threatening to make me hard all over again in the most inappropriate of circumstances.
It’s almost unfair, how easy she seems to be handling it. Especially since it was me who’d made such a fuss about complicating things to begin with.
I’m packing these tangled thoughts away for what must be the dozenth time since I got into work this morning, forcing myself not to scan the halls again for a familiar figure, knowing that she has no reason to visit this floor in the first place.
I focus instead on my clipboard, which contains the chart of the pre-op consult I’m going to meet, frowning when I notice it’s one of Dennis’s patients. I’m not exactly pleased to have another reason for him to come visit my office. Still. I guess that’s just the job.
The door is already ajar when I locate the correct room number, and I give it a light knock before stepping inside and pasting on my best attempt at a smile.
“Hi. Mrs. Pereira?”
The small woman gives me a nervous smile, peeking at me from over the red frames of her glasses. “That’s me.”
“Perfect.” I tuck the chart under my arm and extend a hand to shake hers. “So, we have some blockage going on, is that right?”
She nods, pulling her shawl tighter as her lips purse. “That’s what they tell me.”
I pull the clipboard back out, flipping through her notes. “It says your EKG came back abnormal.” I go for reassurance. “Nothing too out of the ordinary. I can definitely get you fixed up.”
She adjusts her glasses, looking me up and down. “You don’t look any older than my son.”
“Ah.” My smile is tighter now. This part I’m used to, mostly. “I get that a lot. I promise, I’ve done this a thousand times. You have nothing to worry about.”