Page 7 of Dr. Attending

I give her a reassuring smile even though I doubt that this is going to go how she thinks it’s going to go. If the past few minutes are any indication of our conversation trajectory, Parker and I are going to continue talking about medical school until we’re blue in the face.

Love that journey for me.

“Are these new?” I ask as we settle into the matching metal rocking chairs on the southwest corner of the balcony.

“Who knows.” Parker lets out a dramatic exhale. “I’m just glad that I don’t get Claire’s credit card alerts anymore because she’s constantly buying shit that she doesn’t need.”

My lips twitch as I tuck my long, straightened hair behind my ear. “Says the man who just bought a second car.”

My brother doesn’t respond. He simply focuses his attention on the setting sun that is slowly making its way over the horizon, like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

I follow suit and study the unobstructed view of the Atlanta skyline, feeling more comfortable in the silence than in forced conversation. Parker and I might have given Claire shit for making us sit out here, but I can see why she loves it. The city has a different feel from stories above—it’s almost peaceful.

“So,” I start, making an attempt at the conversation that I promised Cassidy. “I heard you talked to Wes the other day.”

The words come out cautiously because this is wildly uncomfortable for the both of us.

In addition to the fact that we weren’t raised to discuss our emotions, show vulnerability, or pretend to be anything other than robots, the man I just brought up hasn’t been spoken about by either one of us in a long time . . . just for different reasons.

Parker’s freshly-shaven jaw tenses, and I can’t tell if he’s about to bite my head off or preparing to give me the full rundown—it truthfully could go either way.

“That must have been difficult,” I add, watching him for any sign of a reaction because my brother isn’t exactly an open book.

I have no idea what else to say because Cassidy didn’t give me any details when she pulled me aside earlier. Parker could have gotten into a fistfight with Weston in the middle of the OR for all I know, and he would still look like he was cool as a cucumber.

Just when I’m about to give up and sit in silence, Parker releases a long exhale and turns to face me. His deep-blue eyes are almost wistful when he says, “It was actually nice.”

I feel my brows shoot up. “Oh?”

It’s all I can manage to say because the word “nice” is the last thing I expected to hear come out of his mouth. I was bracing myself for a nasty glare, a shake of his head, or a long string of curse words. Never in my wildest dreams could I have anticipated the flicker of a smile on my brother’s lips when we finally talked about Weston Southerland.

“Yeah.” Parker reaches for his beer and takes a long sip like he’s mulling over how much he wants to share. “Did you know he had a baby?”

My heart nearly skips a beat because surely I’m hearing him wrong. “Wait. What?”

First of all . . . how would I know that?

Second of all . . . did he say a baby?

Weston never gave off a settle-down-and-have-kids vibe. In fact, it was pretty much the opposite. The guy wouldn’t shut up about how many women he was juggling and how hard it was to keep them straight. I figured he would stay a bachelor until the day he died, not magically transform into . . . a father.

Parker chuckles as he leans back and slips his hands into the pockets of his workout shorts. “I didn’t know either. But I guess it makes sense now why he came back to Atlanta.”

I blink, trying to keep up. “Does it?”

From what I remember, Weston was doing his trauma surgery fellowship in Chicago. He wouldn’t give that up when the workload of fellowship is way less time consuming than residency.

“I mean . . . it can’t be easy to raise a baby in a city by yourself,” Parker argues, his tone uncharacteristically empathetic. “Wes probably thought it would be nice to be close to his parents so that they could help.”

My mouth drops open, but no words come out as a flurry of questions cloud my mind.Why is he by himself? Who is the mother? And what happened to her?

Parker laughs, breaking through my spiraling thoughts. “I know, right? Weston as a single dad. It surprised me too.”

I don’t know why my chest tightens at the thought. The man-child drove me up the wall almost from the moment I met him when I was eighteen.

Our family would spend the Fourth of July together at the lake, and we had a rule that we could each bring only one guest. For the most part, it was friends from our hometown or boyfriends as Claire and I got older. And since Parker never invited anyone, we were all excited when he told us that he was bringing someone the summer after his first year of residency.

My sister teased him and said he had an imaginary friend. I teased him and said he had a girlfriend. But the person whoshowed up at the door was neither one of those things—he was an annoyingly charming, ridiculously good-looking trojan horse. And I ended up falling for his disguise just like everyone else.

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