Page 42 of Dr. Intern

Fortunately, he seems to know just how to pull me out of my spiraling thoughts. We spent the afternoon figuring out how to care for Frosty, and the awkward tension of last night didn’t resurface once. Falling back into our easy, playful exchange felt natural, as if my fears of the previous night were just a fleeting thought.

Beau’s lack of experience with cats doesn’t stop him from acting like an authority on the matter, typical of his doctor’s confidence. He’s been dispensing cat care advice all day, citing articles from veterinary journals and adding his interpretations. Mostly, I’ve tuned him out, amusing myself by watching Frosty dart enthusiastically around the living room in chase of the laser pointer.

Having grown up in a family of medical professionals, I’m used to dealing with oversized egos. Strip away the white coats, and you’re left with someone who was once the underdog on the playground, now overcompensating for their past. It’s a perspective I enjoy reminding them of, and my new sidekick seems to be on the same page.

Beau kept trying to establish himself as the alpha male in the house, only to be hilariously outmaneuvered by a tiny, mischievous kitten. The more Beau raised his voice, the more Frosty seemed to rebel, even going so far as to ruin one of Beau’s sneakers.

Did the angel baby touch any of my things? No.

He only felt the need to assert his dominance over Beau, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud.

I’ve already made up my mind to adopt Frosty, though I still need to figure out how to break the news to my brother. I know that Beau works a ton and did this for me as a temporary peace offering, but after a few hours with the kitten, I think I’ve found my spirit animal. And there’s no way I’m giving him up.

Beau and I have decided to keep the kitten a secret for now, given Parker’s obsession with keeping his condo flawless. If I’m being honest, I love that we have this between us. While Beau may not be interested in dating, his actions show a level of care and concern for me that’s comforting. And right now, that’s enough.

As I’m getting ready for the night out with Cassidy and Morgan, my new shadow lays on his back next to the floor-to-ceiling window in my room. His little paws are in the air, bent at the wrist as he sleeps from his eventful afternoon, and I already can’t wait to come home tonight and snuggle his tiny face.

I’m supposed to be at the Mexican restaurant in five minutes, but I’m still standing in my bra and panties. To be fair, it’s across the street from the condo so I’ve got ten extra minutes that would normally be spent driving.

Girl math.

Picking up my phone, I dial my sister-in-law’s number.

“Sorry! We’re running a little late,” Cass huffs like she’s out of breath. “Are you already at the restaurant?”

Cassidy is perpetually late, just like me. It drives my brother crazy, but because we grew up together, he’s used to it.

“Nope,” I respond, walking through the heaps of clothes on the floor and into my closet. “What’s the vibe for tonight?”

“Hang on.” She puts me on a video call and pans the camera. Morgan’s ass is out, and she’s not even making an effort to cover herself as she crawls into the back seat of their Uber.

“You’re insane—it’s got to be forty degrees outside, and you’re in mini skirts!”

“Morg is,” Cassidy says, turning the camera back to her face. “I’m wearing a bodysuit and pants from Abercrombie.”

I sigh, looking at my matching pair crumpled on the floor. “I love their jeans. They’ve made such a comeback.”

Cassidy smiles, wobbling the phone as the car door closes behind her. “Yes, I have you to thank for my newfound sense of style.”

“She looks hot!” Morgan calls from the other seat.

“Perfect,” I reply, scanning my closet for a clean pair of jeans. “I’ll just go with something similar.”

The phone shakes again, going momentarily black before Morgan’s emerald eyes overtake the screen. “Absolutely not. Wear your sluttiest outfit.”

I can’t help but grin. I like her so much.

“I don’t think I own anything that you would consider slutty.”

I’ve always been into fashion, but most of the clothes I own lean more conservative compared to what people my age usually wear. But because that’s how I’ve always dressed, it’s how I’m most comfortable, at least in public.

Truthfully, despite the attention I receive from men, I’ve never felt entirely confident in my skin. Most of that probably comes from constantly playing roles and fitting expectations rather than my distaste for my looks, but either way, I’ve just never felt like the most beautiful woman in the room. My body isn’t curvy, leaning more towards a rectangle shape than anything else. My hips aren’t wide, nor do I have big breasts, so sexy isn’t a word that I would use to describe myself.

My saving grace, though, is my extensive collection of lingerie. I’ve probably spent more on delicate, lacy undergarments than some people do on their first car, but to me, it’s worth every penny. I figure there are worse things to spend my money on. They give me a boost of confidence and a hidden layer of allure that makes me feel beautiful and empowered.

“Not true,” Cass chimes, leaning in so both of their faces are in the frame. “You bought that mini skirt for the Eras Tour and looked hot.”

“That was a wear and tear,” I say, recalling my outfit from that night.

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