Page 14 of Paging Dr. Breakup
“What do you mean bysell?” she asked.
His gaze studied her slender neck as she swallowed. Was she affected by him like he was by her? No way.
“We should incorporate the Breakup Festival into our plans,” he said.
“Agreed. That will calm the rabid hordes of matchmakers. How about… going out one day per week and attending the Breakup Festival together.”
“That feels too light,” he said. He wanted to spend more time with her. This contract gave him a great excuse. “No one’s going to buy it. Not around here. They’re like starving dogs spotting a bone.” He smiled at her involuntary snort. If only he could bottle that happiness and sell it. Or save it for future times when he needed it. “We have to go all-in.” He looked up at the tiled ceiling, then back to Deirdre.
Her chest rose and fell. “What do you think it will take?”
No way was he touching the real answer trying to claw its way out of his chest. “How about two casual but intentionally public dates-slash-outings each week and then attending the Breakup Festival and dance together?” He expected to be heading back to Seattle shortly after the festival, so the timing would work.
“I could fit that into my calendar. How about you?” she asked with a tentative but game grin.
How the hell am I having this conversation? The stagecoach horses are stampeding away without anyone at the reins.
Calvin wiped a sweaty palm on his scrub pants. “Yes. I will manage two dates per week until the Breakup Festival.”
She laughed out loud again. “I mean, if it’s going to be a hardship…”
The hardship wouldn’t be the dating part. Not with Deirdre.
It would be the not-dating part.
He considered his coffee, wishing it contained something to better fortify his courage. “Let me do a teach-back communication technique.”
“Again with the learning modules. Seriously?” Deirdre waved her fingers. “Fine. Go on with demonstrating your patient communication skills, which in turn will increase your Press-Ganey scores.”
“My Press-Ganey scores reflect on the institutions that I serve. It is in everyone’s best interest for those scores to be high.”
“I don’t know how you can keep a straight face, but I’m all ears.”
He pressed his hand against the table. “Ahem. Here’s what I am hearing from our conversation. Please let me know if I have misunderstood anything.”
Her brows rose. “You bet I will.”
He held up index and middle fingers. “We have agreed to have two dates per week”—then the thumb of the other hand—“for one month. Then a grand finale date at the Breakup Festival.”
“Financial considerations?”
“I’ll pay for the dates.”
“But—”
“We have to make it look good. People will talk if we split costs.”
“I can pay you back.”
“I’m pretty sure my credit card can handle the burden of an extra mouth to feed.”
“Now I’m a burden?” Even as she narrowed her gaze, her blue eyes twinkled.
The words left him before he could stop them. “You are anything but a burden.”
Uncomfortable silence was punctuated by an overhead page for environmental services to the med-surg unit. He and Deirdre waited until the page repeated three times, per hospital protocol.
His heart thundered against his ribs. “Let’s talk about actionable items.”
