Page 44 of Dr. Attending

But the older I get, the more it scares the shit out of me. And every time I’ve looked at Carter today, I’ve been reminded of that. Of how out of place I feel around him. Which is why when I finally have the chance to talk to Wes alone today, I’m going to tell him the truth—that last night was a mistake.

“Such a handsome little guy like your da-da.”

Claire looks up at me with a knowing smirk before sitting on her heels.

“Speaking of that,” she says casually, glancing back at Cassidy. “Did you ever find out why Wes named him after your brother?”

“Nope,” Cassidy responds. She dips the bubble stick into the half-full bottle with one hand and tugs Carter’s army-green shirt down with her other. “I wanted to ask him that day in the hospital, but he didn’t seem like he was in the mood to share. We’ve only had pretty surface-level conversations since then.”

My sister frowns like she’s disappointed by the lack of juicy gossip.

I’m honestly a little surprised as well. I wouldn’t think that I’d know before Cassidy, especially because of their history together.

“Yeah,” she continues with a sigh. “But it’s just really weird because I genuinely thought he didn’t care since he never came to my brother’s funeral. And the one time I confronted him about it, he brushed me off.”

My heart twists, and I can’t help myself from butting in to defend him, once again.

“Maybe he feels guilty, and this is his way of saying that without, you know . . . saying it.”

Cassidy shrugs as Carter pivots on his grass-stained bottom and plants both hands on her thigh, trying to stand on his own.

“Maybe. I could see that, I guess.” She bites her bottom lip and then lets out a soft laugh. “Actually, I candefinitelysee that. For a guy who’s so personable and outgoing, you would never think he would be so s-h-i-t-t-y at expressing his emotions. But now that I think about it, we dated for years, and he never once told me he loved me.”

“Yeah, and then he cheated on you like a dimwit,” Morgan scoffs from beside me, sliding her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to make eye contact with her best friend. “Just know that I’d never cheat on you, babe. You’re the love of my life.”

She’s laying out on a pink striped pool towel beside me, trying to act disinterested in the baby who will occasionally try to crawl his way to her.

“I appreciate the loyalty, Morg,” Cassidy replies as she redirects Carter’s attention to the bubble container. “But I forgave him for that a while ago. We were just kids, and like I’ve been trying to tell everyone for the past year, he’s really not a bad guy.”

“I’m not the one who thought he was a bad guy,” she argues, shooting me a pointed glance before looking back at Cassidy. “But anyways, I’d just let the name thing go. Clearly, all men are terrible at expressing their emotions. I mean, look at Walker. The guy got a tattoo on his arm to remind himself of me when we broke up. Can you sayobsessed?”

Cassidy looks up and rolls her eyes. “Weird . . . because I seem to remember that situation differently.”

“Me too,” I tease, thinking back on the front-row seat that we all had to their romance.

While Walker did get a devil tattoo for her after Vegas, she was the one who was terrible at expressing her emotions. She refused to admit that they were serious, and ignored everyonefor a month because she couldn’t handle the fact that she was in a stable relationship.

“Semantics.” Morgan waves her hand around like she’s batting away the clouds above our heads. “The point is that you can’t trust what men say, you can only trust what they do. And Weston named his son after your dead brother to apologize for treating you both like shit. The other details shouldn’t matter.”

I flop down onto my back and stare up at the sky, trying to tune them out while they form some sort of Weston Worshipers fan club.

“Where’s your swimmy from?” Morgan asks after a while, turning her head in my direction.

I glance over at her with a frown. “Why? It’s not like your massive jugs could fit in it anyway.”

She pushes her gold Ray-Bans down her nose and wags her eyebrows at me. “That’s kind of the point.”

A ghost of a smile finds its way to my lips but quickly dissipates because I genuinely can’t pinpoint how I’m feeling. I’m overwhelmed, but I’m satisfied. I’m flustered, but I’m excited. I’m all of the goddamn above. And all at the same time.

Morgan studies me for a moment before she takes my hand in hers. “You look like you need a margarita.”

***

The bar at our lake house makes you feel like you’ve been transported back to the 1920s. I never got to ask my dad why he designed it this way when the rest of the house has a more rustic vibe, but it’s one of my favorite rooms. Every time I enter the space, it’s like I can feel the stress leave my body . . . until Morgan nearly knocks a very expensive and very old decanter from the counter.

“Whoops.” She shoots me a sheepish grin.

“Morg. I swear to God if you break something in here, I will invoice you for it.”

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