Page 4 of Six Month Wife
I watch with what I hope is a supportive look on my face for Jenna’s sake as he lifts her ankle slightly. She’s still trying to make nice, waving apologetically, probably as charmed by his good looks as I am.
Her smiles are full of “come hither” that I find totally inappropriate for the occasion. When I catch myself feeling territorial over him, I smile. She's flying back to LA tomorrow, so he's all mine.
Kidding, not kidding.
Dr. Matthews examines Jenna’s ankle, gently prodding and assessing, and then finally looks up.
“As I guessed, it’s a sprain. Rest, ice, compression, and elevation, along with some over-the-counter painkillers. I’ll send the nurse in to wrap it up.”
He looks at me, clearly expecting a “Thank you, Dear Doctor” moment, and I’m not about to give him the satisfaction.
“Just a sprain?” I say, looking at her swollen ankle like I’m Sherlock Holmes on a case.
“Yep.”
“How can you be so sure without an X-ray?”
“As I mentioned earlier, I see these every single day.”
There’s a hint of smugness in his voice. I could almost swear he does a mini-wink. Whatever that is.
“This doesn’t warrant an X-ray,” he says, wearing a crooked smile that practically screamstold you so.
I cross my arms in a huff, not bothering to hide it.
“I assure you, she’ll be fine. But it’s refreshing to see someone so passionate about her friend’s well-being.” His eyes flick briefly to mine. “She’s lucky to have you on her side. A little firecracker with purpose.”
I narrow my eyes at him, fidgeting slightly. “I guess that’s it, Doctor.”
He nods, but lingers just a beat too long. And when he turns to go, it’s with a slow kind of swagger that feels deliberate.
As he walks away, a flutter kicks up in my stomach and refuses to settle. The memory of his blue eyes on me lingers like static. So does the faint scent he left behind.
I glance at Jenna, who’s watching me with an annoying, knowing look.
"Are you seriously blushing over him?" Jenna teases, lifting a brow. "Did you guys just have a little thing right there?"
"Oh, shush," I mutter, dropping into the chair beside her bed and fluffing the flat, sad excuse for a pillow behind her back. "He was rude. We did not have a thing."
“Rude?” She snorts. “You sure it wasn't you trying to get under his skin? You were flirting, even if a little salty.”
"I was not," I protest feebly.
Because I totally was. In that petty, bratty way I tend to lean into when someone dismisses me and looks like a Calvin Klein ad. Jenna’s seen this version of me more times than I care to admit.
“Come on. He was hot. You can admit that, at least.”
Before I can respond, the nurse walks in with an ace bandage and a bundle of paperwork, and like that, the moment's over.
But my heart’s still thudding, but it's not because of Jenna or the accident.
It's because of him.
And the worst part is, I know that face. The only problem is, I don’t know from where.
Excuse me,” he says, popping his head back into the room while Jenna finishes up with the nurse. I nearly fall out of the chair. Not only did he startle me while in Lala Land, but I’m still reeling from the last time he was here.
I blink up at him, trying to keep my face neutral. My eyebrows go rogue, and my mouth is suddenly dry. Super smooth.
