Page 83 of Dr. Attending

“Well, it sounds like you guys had a good time,” I say casually, forcing my face into neutrality as I walk over to join her on a bar stool.

Do I think it’s a little annoying that she still has a relationship with her ex-boyfriend’s mom? Yeah, obviously.I never claimed to be a saint.

But I also recognize that Cassidy and Weston grew up together, so there will always be a unique kind of love between them.

Cassidy studies me, her hazel eyes more green beneath the fluorescent kitchen lights. “Caroline.”

Her tone isn’t admonishing like I would expect after she found Weston and me in bed together—it’s soft and warm.

My tone, on the other hand, is guarded and bitter.

“Cassidy.”

There feels like there’s some sort of power imbalance between us right now, and the fact that she looks like she belongs at a polo match while I quite literally just climbed out of bed doesn’t make things any more comfortable.

“I’m going to tell you something,” she says, glancing around the kitchen to ensure we’re alone. “And I need you not to freak out.”

“I won’t freak out,” I promise, even though I don’t know that for a fact.Whenever someone tells you not to do something, it’s usually because they expect you to do that thing.

I cross my legs, pulling Weston’s button down lower like that will somehow protect me from whatever she’s about to say.

Cassidy purses her lips and sucks in a long breath before speaking. “Wes loves you.”

I nearly drop my coffee in my lap because out of all the scenarios that just flashed through my mind, the idea that Weston loves me wasn’t even on the list. I actually thought she would confess that she still loves him. Or that we shouldn’t be hooking up because he’s too old for me. Or literally anything other than what she just said.

I nearly start laughing because it sounds absurd.“Yeah . . . okay. Sure, Cass.”

There isn't any doubt in my mind that Weston likes me. He wants me. But love? That’s kind of a big jump.

“Do you know that I’ve known Wes since I was a baby?” Cassidy asks, her eyes softening in a big-sisterly way that makes my chest uncomfortably tight.

“We grew up together, which means we both watched each other learn a lot of hard lessons over the years . . . and the hardest lesson of all is that we weren’t right for each other.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “Probably harder for me than it was for him, but that’s beside the point.”

I wait for her to continue because I’m honestly unsure what to say. I knew that their families had an extensive history, but I didn’t realize that it spanned her entire lifetime. Or that their relationship history was so complex . . . and so one-sided.

“The point,” she continues, her voice quiet and sincere, “is that we know each other well. And I never thought that Weston would find someone he loved more than himself. Until I saw the way he looked at both you and his son this morning.”

I can’t seem to form a word other than “Carter . . .”

As soon as Cassidy walked in holding the little man this morning, my heart sank. I’ve enjoyed my time with Weston thisweek, but it felt almost wrong to be here without Carter. I didn’t realize how much I had missed the little man.

A gentle grin sweeps across my sister-in-law’s face. “Carter loves you too, Caroline.”

I let out a bitter laugh because I know for a fact that isn’t true—I might be slightly more comfortable with him, but I still have no idea what I’m doing.

“Let me guess . . . you can tell by the way he looks at me?”

Cassidy’s brows knit like she doesn’t understand my question. “Yes, actually,” she argues.

She pulls out her phone, tapping it a few times before she hands it to me.

I stare down at the picture on the screen—one of me and Carter that she must have snapped this morning while Weston was making coffee.

Carter had crawled across the playroom to get to me, sat at my feet, and reached up like he wanted me to hold him. I remember being surprised that he chose me instead of Cassidy, but I scooped him up anyway, expecting him to wail. Only he didn't. He sat and played with the collar of my shirt as I held him in my arms.

I hand Cassidy her phone silently, trying to understand the complex storm of emotions raging in my head.I felt calmer in that moment than I have in a long time—like he was part of me somehow. But he wasn’t part of me. He isn’t part of me.

“Caroline,” she says gently. “You don’t have to believe me—”

---