Page 32 of Paging Dr. Summers

“But that’s not what you would be doing.”

“It doesn’t matter. That’s what it would look like. And I don’t know how Erica would feel about it. It’s barely been a year since she died. And she and Brooke are so different from each other. What does that say about me, about my relationship with Erica?”

“Is that what you’re worried about? That you’d be hurting Erica? Or is there more? Were you guys having problems?”

“No. Not really. It’s complicated. I loved her more than anything.”

“No one is questioning that. But it doesn’t mean you can’t love again. Erica wasn’t your first love.”

“But she was supposed to be my last.” Emotion strangled my words.

“Oh, Logan.” Eden rubbed my arm. “I’m so sorry. We all miss Erica, even if sometimes she was a pain in the butt,” she said lightheartedly, although it was true. Erica enjoyed having things her way. But her ways were usually amazing. She was a perfectionist at heart.

“I know sometimes she came off as brash, but her heart was always in the right place. She just wanted things to turn out well.”

“I know,” Eden sympathized. “Honestly, I admired her headstrong ways. Sometimes, I wished I could be more like her in that regard. But just because Brooke is different from Erica, it doesn’t mean you should write her off. Maybe Erica came into your life when she did because that’s what you needed at the time. And maybe Brooke is here now because perhaps you need some crazy in your life.” Eden laughed.

Erica was amazing, helping me through my residency and entering my first practice, where I became a partner. She was a driving force and my biggest cheerleader at the time. Brooke was the cheerleader type in her own regard—a chaotic cheerleader with sage wisdom. But ... “Brooke just wants to be my friend, and I think that’s wise for both of us.” The words felt a little hollow.

Eden sighed. “I know that’s what Brooke says, and I think shemeans it, but I also have a feeling that if you were to give her some encouragement, she would easily change her mind.”

“She’s dating my coworker,” I grumbled.

“Brooke is going onadate with him. She’s notdatinghim.”

“It could be heading in that direction. Brooke was definitely smitten by him. She called him Dr. McDreamy.”

Eden snort laughed. “I bet she would think the same of you if you’d let her.”

“I think she referred to me as Dr. McCure.” Admittedly, I had been hoping for something a little sexier.

“That’sgood.” Eden exaggerated, not believing it for one second.

“It’s fine. I’m sure Dr. Everett will be the perfect summer fling for Brooke, and then she’ll leave.”

“Is that what’s really bothering you? Brooke is going to leave?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m mourning for the good I had, all the while feeling guilty for wondering if there is a different good out there for me.”

“Don’t feel guilty about that, Logan. I think I can confidently say that Erica would want you to have a different good.”

“So different from her, though? Could you imagine what Erica’s parents, or our friends, would think if I dated someone like Brooke?”

Eden scrunched up her face and mulled it over. “So, it might give them heartburn at first, but if Brooke or someone like her made you happy, I think they would come around. Besides, I think Brooke could win almost anyone over. Even your stuffy in-laws,” she laughed.

William and Karen, Erica’s parents, were pretty stuffy, but I loved and respected them. “I’m not sure they would ever approve of someone like Brooke.”

“But do they need to?” Eden asked, carefully.

“It’s a moot point, sis. Brooke will find her summer fling, and it won’t be me.” Everywhere the woman went, someone wanted to ask her out.

“All I’m going to say is you sound disappointed by that.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong.

TINS OF COOKIES CLANKED AGAINST each other as I rode my bike on the two-lane road to the next neighbor’s house. Mom hadn’t specified how many neighbors, but I was trying to hit everyone who lived in Sapphire Bay, even though I was getting the oddest looks when people opened their doors and I handed them tins of cookies and introduced myself.

The way some of them reacted, I was afraid they might call the police and report that a strange woman was running around handing out suspicious-looking packages. Or, you know, cute pastel tins that said “Made with Love” on them.

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