Page 8 of Cherish

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Be her friend, but I’m not interested in her or anyone that way. Are you good on how to get back home? I’m heading out and going back to bed.”

I turn my back on her and walk out before she can give me a smart-ass response.

CHAPTER 4

ALEX

The entire day has been a clusterfuck. Since bumping into Jason Dupree, I haven’t been able to focus on a single thing. The only work I managed to do today was put off my work for another day and answer a few emails. I managed to ignore Ananda’s looks all day too. I was relieved when Beth offered to take us to lunch in honor of Mellie’s first day. Thankfully, Ananda kept her mouth shut since Bethzilla was in the room, but the one thing I could not escape was the satisfied, smug look on her face.

Even now, I can feel her watching me, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction of returning her stare. I don’t care what she or the psychic has to say. I know they are wrong. So what if Dr. Dupree is insanely handsome? His perfectly lined haircut and soft brown eyes give him an approachable look. He is warmth and comfort in one tall, broad package. He’s much more handsome than Dr. Doyle, but I was never in this for the looks.

Dr. Doyle is handsome in his own way. Who cares if he’s not as tall as Dr. Dupree? It doesn’t matter that when Dr. Doyle and I become an official couple, I’ll never be able to wear stilettos again. And so what if Dr. Dupree’s body felt much harder than any body has the right to feel? How the hell does a surgical resident have time to work out?

I shake my head, clearing all thoughts of Dr. Dupree. He is not the plan. Dr. Doyle is the plan. Jason Dupree is not even a speed bump in my journey to love. Yes, he’s attractive. I’d have to be blind not to see it, but the man doesn’t have an ounce of charm. He couldn’t even open his mouth to utter one complete sentence. Ananda is right about one thing. He might be book smart but clearly lacks social skills.

“You keep shaking your head, Alex. Are you hearing voices again?” Ananda asks.

I refuse to answer. To piss her off, I shake my head again.

“Don’t get pissy with me,” she says. “Wendy was so right, though, girl. You can fight it all you want.”

“The death card?” I ask, my heart rate suddenly taking up speed.

“It’s not what you think. The death card symbolizes the end of something, not an actual death. It’s also symbolic of a new beginning.” I relax at her words and wait for her to say more. I wait with bated breath as she flips over two more cards.

“Hmm. We have the High Priestess and the Queen of Pentacles. These two symbolize healing. And here,” she says, pointing at the love card she flipped over earlier, “you’re on your way to a new love, girl. And he’s a healer.”

“A doctor?” I ask, hopeful for the first time in months.

“Possibly. He can be a doctor, or someone in medicine. He could also be healing in other ways, like your other half.”

“I’ve already met him. He’s a doctor at the hospital where I work.”

“Hmm,” she says, flipping another card. “No, we have the fool here, which means the end of something, and the world card here, which means something new. You have the world at your feet. There’s definitely a new love coming, but it’s not someone from the past. This is brand new.”

Ananda throws a magic marker at my desk to get my attention. I give her a dirty look, but this time I don’t even shake my head at her. I ignore her and focus on my work, imagining getting home and enjoying some solitude.

Ever since the night a group of us ended up at the Tip Tap Room six months ago, I knew Dr. Doyle and I were meant to be. I hadn’t noticed him at all. I was at a table with Ananda and a few other hospital employees we work with. We had a great time that night. It was a Friday, a few weeks before Christmas. The city was glowing with lights, and there was a dusting of fresh snow. The city was alive, and that night, I too felt alive. I felt my mother’s spirit. It was almost as if she was trying to tell me something, but I didn’t know what.

After three rounds, one of our friends Ed, who works the day shift at the main security desk, waved at one of the other tables. It turned out it was a table full of doctors from our hospital.

Ed knows everyone and before too long, we had put our tables together and someone ordered another round. Dr. Doyle was there, and we were introduced, but I was too busy consoling Ananda, who was spending her first Christmas without her ex, to pay much attention to him.

In all honesty, he’s average looking with hair that is neither blond nor dark. He is of average height, and his conversation was lackluster, but throughout that night, we learned that Dr. Doyle is a genius, who graduated Harvard Medical School at the age of twenty. He is only twenty-five but in the last year of his residency.

I still remember the words he said that led to our first conversation.

“It doesn’t matter how many years I’ve lived here. This Southern California boy can never get used to the Boston winters, and I hate snow,” he had declared.

“How boring,” I said back. “You get summer, summer, and more summer. How can you resist the change of seasons? You mean to tell me you don’t love the fall foliage? A fresh blanket of snow? The spring rain?” Fueled by the alcohol, I squeezed between John and someone else.

“We get all of that in California. I just have to drive or fly to another part.” And that led to an hour-long conversation about New England weather versus California weather.

At the end of the night, he helped me with my coat, and when we walked outside, I slipped on the slick snow. John caught me, holding on to me until I reassured him I was steady on my feet.

“I guess there is a positive to this,” he said, pointing toward the sky and the falling snow. “I got to save a damsel in distress.” He reached over and adjusted the pom-pom on top of my beanie. “You’re very pretty, Alexandra,” he said.

“Alex. I prefer Alex,” I replied.

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