Page 12 of Dr. Attending

Her expression is filled with concern, probably because she assumes that my date didn’t show up. And if I’m being honest with myself, I’m starting to wonder the same thing.

I’ve been sitting alone on the crowded front patio for the past half hour, pretending to watch baseball highlights on the massive outdoor televisions. At this point I’m ready to call it quits—this has been a colossal waste of my time.

I glance at my phone for the tenth time, finding no new messages.

“No,” I reply, pulling out my AMEX. “I’ll just take another gin and tonic. You can close me out.”

She takes my card with a pitied half-smile. But before she can make it inside, a familiar voice stops her. “Make it two. Top shelf.”

I freeze, not sure whether to feel relieved or annoyed. But when I finally look up, I can’t help the grin that overtakes my face because it’s impossible to feel anything other than love for the guy who’s been like a brother to me over the past ten years.

The waitress pauses to see if I approve of the charge, and I nod, turning back to my friend.

“You couldn’t have picked somewhere with valet?” Parker mutters as he slides into the chair across from me. “Took me twenty fucking minutes to find parking.”

“You couldn’t have dressed up?” I shoot back, narrowing my eyes on his navy Braves polo and matching baseball cap. “Our first date in almost two years, and it’s like you didn’t even try.”

He chuckles as he eyes my outfit. “I think you tried hard enough for the both of us.”

Yeah, yeah.

My white linen button down, khakis, and loafers might be slightly overstated for a seedy Virginia Highlands sports bar, but I panicked and reverted to my roots. I guess it’s true what they say—you can take the boy out of Buckhead, but you can’t take Buckhead out of the boy.

“I figured you couldn’t clock me when I’m wearing Armani,” I laugh, noticing the tension in my shoulders beginning to ease.

When Parker and I spoke at the hospital, our conversation was short, so it was hard to gauge how deep the rift between us had settled. But it’s nice to know that we can fall right back into our bullshit like old times.

Parker shakes his head and leans back in his chair, getting comfortable. “I think that’s even more of a reason to throw a punch.”

“Well, thanks for coming, man,” I say, starting to feel hopeful that we might be able to repair our friendship. “I honestly wasn’t sure if you’d show up.”

“I definitely considered bailing after sitting in traffic on 400 for an hour. But, nah, I said I’d be here. So I’m here.”

I study him for a moment, trying to work out where to begin.

I like to think I’m good at reading people—other than nepotism, it’s the thing that’s gotten me the farthest in life. But Parker is the one person I’ve never quite been able to get a grasp on, and his current facial expression isn’t cluing me in to how he’s actually feeling.

“It’s good to see you,” I offer, feeling the need to break the silence between us as the waitress slides our drinks onto the table. “You know . . . when you’re not avoiding me at work.”

It’s not exactly a profound opening, but it’s true. I missed the hell out of him.

I’ve always been the guy who surrounded himself with friends. I thought the more that I had, the better off I would be when I wanted or needed something. But my friendship with Parker wasnever built on selfishness or desire. It was formed from a mutual awareness of each other’s backgrounds and the pressure that comes with family expectations. And until it was gone, I didn’t realize how important it was to me.

Parker reaches up to flip his hat around, running his fingers through his dark hair before he places it back on his head. I can see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he wants to talk about the elephant in the room, but he doesn’t know where to start. And neither do I . . . but I’m going to try.

“I was sorry to hear about your mom.”

“Thanks.” He swallows and glances away for a moment before meeting my gaze. “You didn’t have to make that donation, by the way.”

“It was nothing.”

Parker’s mom would always talk about her volunteer work at a free clinic near their house, so I gave some money to them. The donation was supposed to be anonymous, so I’m not sure how he found out, but I didn’t do it to buy his forgiveness, or anything like that. I did it because I wanted to be there for him, but I knew that I wasn’t welcome.

His mouth curls into a ghost of a smile. “I know you felt bad, dude. But an entire building was a little superfluous, don’t you think?”

I shrug because the amount of money that it took to fund the clinic didn’t even make a dent in my trust.

“I have the money,” I state simply. “Why not do some good with it?”

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