Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Tasha led me to the far corner office with a glass wall, blinds half-drawn. Through the slats, I caught a glimpse of Livia at her desk.
Her bun was sleek and perfect, every strand locked into place.
And that was the only thing about her that looked composed.
Her white coat hung on the back of her chair; the satin rose sleeves of her blouse rolled to her elbows as she scribbled notes over a stack of patient charts. Her jaw was tight, her brows pinched together, shoulders hunched over like they carried the weight of the world.
She didn’t look up right away when Tasha let me in and closed the door behind her as she exited. Livia appeared to be too focused on whatever was in front of her. And for a second, I just stood there in the doorway, feeling the knot in my chest tighten at the sight of her.
“Hello, Doctor.”
And even though Tasha had called ahead of my entrance, Livia still jumped as if I’d knocked a stack of books to the ground rather than greeted her in a soft, even-keeled voice. She looked up at me and sighed like she was annoyed by my presence or her reaction to it or both. “What are you doing here?”
I crossed to the chair on the other side of her desk and took a seat, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee as I recited the words I’d acted out in my head a dozen times now. “Well, I was just in the area, and I remembered that you had a half day on Wednesdays. I thought I’d come by and say hi.”
She blinked at me, eyes drifting to where I’d crossed my legs before they found my gaze again. “By all means, make yourself comfortable.”
“I brought cookies,” I said, holding up the brown box in my hand. “Bake’n Babes. You said they were your favorite, yeah?”
Livia softened, just marginally, like she was surprised I remembered. And then she shook her head, getting right back to the task in front of her. “I don’t have time for this, Carter.”
“You don’t have time for a Fruity Pebbles cookie?” I mused, pulling one from the box. “Because I have sources that say it’s impossible to be stressed with one of these in your mouth.”
“Who says I’m stressed?”
It was my turn to blink at her. “Oh. Yeah. My apologies. You don’t seem stressed at all.”
She glared at me for half a second, and then her shoulders deflated, and she sank back in her chair, flicking her pen onto the desk and pinching the bridge of her nose. She sat like that for a moment before thrusting her other hand out toward me and gesturing for the cookie.
I grinned in victory as I handed it to her.
When she unwrapped the monstrous thing, she took a bite so large it didn’t make sense biologically for her mouth, and then she moaned, sinking farther into her chair.
“Besh fuhgging cookiesh eveh.”
I chuckled. “I’m sure I agree with whatever you just said.” I paused, frowning at the exhaustion that settled in on her face as she took another bite. “Busy week, I take it?”
She shrugged. “Not busy, per se, but hectic. I had back-to-back complex crown or bridge cases that both needed unexpected adjustments. One of our VIP clients insisted on a same-day slot, despite how we insisted that it would be impossible.”
“One of my teammate’s wives, perhaps?”
She didn’t answer, but the look she gave me told me I’d hit the nail on the head. I chuckled.
“And I’ve been avoiding my part of the end-of-year reporting, but now have no choice but to tackle it if we’re going to file on time.” She took another bite of the cookie, letting her head fall back against her chair. “And I’m just so… tired.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Not sleeping well?”
“Not with my mother calling me every night.”
I stiffened at the mention of her mother. We hadn’t talked about her family much since the night of our date. She’d mentioned that the drama was still hanging around at the game before we went to her place last week, but she’d made it clear she didn’t want to discuss it, that what she needed was a distraction.
Was her telling me this now an invitation to ask questions?
Because I had a billion of them.
“Your sister’s wedding,” I mused.
Livia nodded.
“Are you ever going to tell me why this is such an issue, you attending one of the biggest days of your sister’s life?”
Livia strained with the effort to bring her head upright again. “It’s a boring and tragic story.”
“I like tragedies. Big Romeo and Juliet fan here. And I think it should be up to me to decide if it’s boring or not.”
She groaned, shaking her head as she wrapped up the rest of the cookie and set it on her desk. “I don’t know, Carter. I’m not really the talking type.”