Her answering look responds something along the lines of: Sorry, it’s every woman for herself.
Ugh. I can’t even blame her. She gives me a little wave as she retreats, and I try to look busy with the Keurig, hoping that Dennis can read the room.
He can’t, apparently.
“Mack,” he says in a way he probably thinks is friendly, but it comes off more oily than he intends. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since your . . . incident.”
How is it even possible that I never ran into this guy before I met Noah, and now he seems to be everywhere?
“I’m fine,” I say curtly, keeping my attention on my cup. “Just a case of a mixed-up calendar.”
“Never heard of that happening,” he says in a curious tone. “Especially for mated pairs. Those things are supposed to be pretty predictable, aren’t they?”
I turn my head enough so that he can see the hard set of my gaze. “No offense, but this isn’t really something I want to discuss with a near-stranger.”
“Of course, of course.” He raises his hands palms out in an apologetic gesture. “Just concerned, that’s all.”
“I appreciate it,” I answer flatly, “but I’m fine.”
“Good to hear,” he says with another slimy grin. It really is creepy, the more you look at it. He smiles the way I imagine a Venus flytrap would when it sees a fly. He shoves his hands in his pockets, leaning against the opposite wall, seeming to have no intention of leaving. “It must be nerve-racking to think of him leaving.”
I turn again with a cocked brow. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, I just meant . . . Well. You know the rumor mill. There’s all the talk of Noah transferring to Albuquerque. I have friends over there. Bunch of gossips.”
“I see,” I answer measuredly.
I turn back to my cup, pulling it from underneath the Keurig spout and moving to the canisters where we keep the cream and sugar.
“He’s still considering,” I finally say, as carefully as I can. “We’re . . . still talking about it.”
Which is entirely untrue since I have absolutely no say in the matter. The knowledge of that is hitting me full force at this moment, and it leaves me with a strange feeling. One that’s . . . unsettling. With a wrinkled brow I stir my coffee, forgetting for a second or so that Dennis is even here until he speaks again.
“Ah, well. I know we’d certainly miss our resident genius. Plus, I can imagine it would be hard for you if he took the job.”
But I don’t know that. It’s possible—probable—that he will.
Why does my chest feel so tight?
I hide my tumultuous emotions with a slow sip from my cup, my eyes focused on the warm liquid as I manage a half shrug. “I’m sure Noah will come to the best decision.”
“He always does,” Dennis replies with that smile that is starting to make my skin crawl.
“Right.” I tip my mug in his direction, needing to get out of this room. “Anyway. Better get back to it. Have some things to finish up before I go home.”
“Of course, of course,” Dennis says with a wave. “Good to see you again, Mack.”
I nod, because I can’t possibly return the sentiment, escaping the lounge with my cup in hand as I release a measured breath. I really, really don’t like that guy. I can see why Noah doesn’t either.
Thoughts of Noah tug at something inside, Dennis’s talk of the possibility of Noah moving and the reminder that it’s been a possibility since this . . . thing we’re doing started—it causes a twinge in my chest that doesn’t go away even when I rub my hand there. If my mood weren’t suddenly so dour, I’d be texting Noah making a joke about needing a consultation. As it is, I walk in the direction of the nurses’ station with slow steps, my thoughts scattered, bouncing around in my head with nowhere to settle.
I can imagine it would be hard for you if he took the job.
It’s funny, until Dennis said it . . . it never occurred to me that it would be.
* * *
?“This show is completely inaccurate.”
I grin at Noah from my side of my small couch, fighting the urge to laugh at his disgusted expression aimed toward my television.
“It’s not supposed to be accurate,” I tell him. “It’s supposed to be dramatic.”
He makes an indignant sound, folding his arms across his chest and spreading his legs out further in front of him in a move that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. My couch isn’t the largest piece of furniture out there, but with Noah on it, it looks downright small.