Page 53 of Not My Finest Hour

And when our server arrives, that’s exactly what he orders. In fact, we all order the same thing with the exception of Lorelei, who gets Swiss cheese and mushrooms on her burger.

While we’re waiting for our food, my friends waste no time trying to figure Justin out. They ask the usual questions about where he grew up, where he lives now, what high school he went to, and what sports he played. And leave it up to Chelsea to ask the questions that don’t really matter, like whether he’s a dog or cat person (he’s a dog person), and whether he’s Team Edward or Team Jacob (Team Edward all the way).

“So, Justin, Dahlia said you’re almost done with your journey to becoming a doctor,” Lorelei says.

Justin sits up a little straighter. “Yes, that’s right. I’m almost a full-fledged ob-gyn.”

Silence descends on our table. Chelsea and Lorelei both look at me, then at Justin, then at me again. Then they look down at the table, avoiding all eye contact with Justin. Chelsea starts playing with her napkin, and Lorelei clears her throat.

“Oh…an ob-gyn,” Lorelei says, trying to recover the conversation. “Dahlia didn’t tell us that.”

Justin looks over at me, and I don’t like the look on his face. It’s like he’s upset, disappointed, and holding back a bit of anger too. “She didn’t? Well, that’s what I’m working toward, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Chelsea says. I kick her under the table and glare at her. We’re all adults here. Why does she need to make things more awkward than they already are? “Uh…sorry. That came out wrong. I meant why would you choose that specialty out of all the others available?”

“I have a lot of reasons, but I enjoy being able to bring new life into this world. For me, there’s nothing more rewarding.” He doesn’t elaborate and probably feels like my friends don’t deserve any further explanation. I can’t help but notice that Justin has adjusted his posture to put some distance between us. That hurts.

I’m scrambling for a way to save this conversation and this evening. But I’m coming up empty. There’s no way to spin the fact that I was too embarrassed to tell my friends about Justin’s chosen career path. The guy is going to be a doctor.A freakin’ doctor!That alone is worth celebrating. And he gets to help deliver babies. Some would call that a dream job, and a dream man because it takes a special person to want to enter a woman-dominated field to do that.

For the rest of the evening, the conversation is stilted and awkward. The food is good as always, but for me, it doesn’t go down easy. I only eat about half of my meal because all I really want to do is leave this place and talk to Justin—away from everyone. So I’m relieved when our check finally comes.

Justin, being the gentleman he is, takes care of the check and even lends me his hand to help me out of the booth. But I’m not dumb enough to think that he’s gotten over the way my friends reacted tonight. It’s all for show to let on that things are okay between us. I just know that as soon as we get in the car, I’m going to hear about it.

And he doesn’t disappoint. Once the car door closes, he doesn’t bother starting the engine, needing to get whatever’s on his mind out as soon as possible.

“Are you embarrassed by my choice of career?” he says, his gaze boring into mine.

I’m not going to lie to him. “I wouldn’t say I’m embarrassed. I was just waiting for the right time to tell them that you’re going to be an ob-gyn.”

“Why? What’s wrong with my career?”

“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “It’s just that when people think of a male doctor, the first thing that comes to mind isn’t usually an ob-gyn. It’s a female-dominated field. You can’t deny it.” He stays silent because he knows I’m right. “But that doesn’t mean men can’t be good ob-gyns. Dr. Tarlton is the best one I’ve ever had, and I’m sure you’ll be the same way. My friends think it’s weird that I see a male ob-gyn, and I didn’t want them to judge you before they met you.” I’m trying to salvage this conversation any way I can.

“Do your parents know about my career? Or am I going to be embarrassed in front of them too?”

“They know. I told them already. Why are you so sensitive about it anyway?”

“My whole entire college career I’ve had to deal with people laughing about my choice. Hell, my last girlfriend dumped me because she said she didn’t want to be with someone who looked at vaginas all day long.”

A laugh escapes my lips because I think he’s making a joke here, but judging by the expression on his face, he’s serious. My smile flattens immediately.

“It’s not funny. And if it’s a problem for you, then maybe it’s best we find out now before things get too far along.”

“It’s a little late for that,” I say, patting my stomach. “But if you want out of this situation, then say the words. Maybe it’s for the best since you’re so busy anyway. This child deserves parents who will be there, not ones that are going to cancel all the time.”

The moment the words leave my lips, I wish I could take them back. I hate myself for saying it. I told myself I wasn’t going to make things more difficult for him, and the moment things got rough, I used his hectic schedule against him. It’s our first fight, and I hate the way it feels.

“I’m sorry,” I say, wanting to reach over and touch him. But I leave him alone because I just know he’d pull away from my touch, and I don’t think my heart could take that kind of rejection. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

He stays quiet.

The ten minutes it takes to get back to my place feel like the longest ten minutes of my life. We’re silent the whole way, and the only noise is the windshield wipers creaking across the windshield as they push the rain away. When he pulls up to the curb, I sit there for a moment, refusing to get out. Refusing to believe that this is how our evening is going to end. But there’s no saving this evening, and at this point, I’m not sure what our future, if there is one, is going to look like.

I step onto the sidewalk and don’t bother turning back toward the car. I know Justin doesn’t want to see me anymore tonight. And before I reach the first step to the house, he’s gone.

ChapterTwenty

The next morning, my eyes feel like I’ve been rubbing them with sandpaper all night long. And since these are off-brand tissues, maybe I’m not far off with my assessment. I sit up, my head throbbing as I do so, and throw off the covers. I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to face this day. But I’m not going to sit around and wallow in my own self-pity, as appealing as that sounds.

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