Page 21 of Doctorshipped
“Grant.”
“What a jerk.”
“He’s not really a jerk. He’s just …” I blow out a long breath. “He’s just blunt. And arrogant … and clueless and … Why do I care?”
“Yes.” Shannon taps her pointer finger to her lower lip. “Why do you care?”
“Okay. I don’t. Let him call my life cobbled. Lots of beautiful things are cobbled—like cobblestones. Those are beautiful. And a cobbler who … makes shoes. Like in the fable,The Shoemaker and the Elves. And there’s cobbler, peach, blueberry, blackberry … Who doesn’t love cobbler?”
Shannon walks over to me. She cups my cheeks and tilts my face up toward hers. “You have a beautifully cobbled life. I love your life. You love your life. Who cares if some uppity, grumpy doctor loves your life? If he really saw your life for what it is, he’d envy it. Maybe he already does. But, sweet friend, don’t let him pop your bubbly, vivacious, happy balloon. You’re bigger than this.”
“I’m going to be bigger than this if I keep stress baking!”
We both laugh as Shannon pulls me into a hug.
“What else is bugging you, or is it just the hot doctor who got under your skin?”
“I didn’t say he was hot.”
I pull away and grab my plate.
“You didn’t have to. You flush whenever you bring him up. I can’t wait to see the man who gets this reaction from a self-proclaimed, single-for-life woman.”
I think I blush right then and there. I need to get control over that automatic response. Just thinking of him and his thick, wavy, dark hair, that stern expression on his chiseled face. Those eyes that light up when Fiona is around. The way he looks when he finally cracks a smile …
“Okay. He’s hot. And unnerving. And a little rude, even though I don’t think he really means to be.”
“You like him,” Shannon says, turning to grab her plate and walking toward the table.
“I find him interesting.”
“We’ll go with that,” she says with a wink. “Come eat. And tell me what else is weighing down that otherwise light heart of yours.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
How do I tell Shannon I’m stressed about moving out and trying to find a place? I feel like my whole world is shifting without my consent. Watching friends pair up and establish their families has been the best, but also the hardest thing to endure. I love seeing each of them so happy. But, a part of me feels like I’m standing on a dock, waving while they set sail.
If I had my own place, I’d feel less aimless and untethered. But, now I’m going to be moving into a new home, and I don’t even know where that will be.
“It’s just book stuff,” I finally say.
There’s plenty of pressure on that end of my life too, so I’m not lying. I’m just protecting Shannon from the parts of my stress that would make her feel responsible for me. I’ll figure the housing situation out. I always have.
* * *
After cleaning the kitchen,I spend a few hours writing. I crank out twenty-five fortunes and aphorisms in no time, and then I spend a few hours at Ox Cart Flower Mart.
It’s two o’clock and I’m standing outside the Victorian house that now serves as both office and home to Doctor McGrumpster. I wonder what his real last name is.
I’m going to go up and knock on the door. I am. Any moment now I’m going to walk right up and knock. Maybe he won’t answer. Maybe Fiona will bound to the door and we can make our way into the back of the house without me even having to see Grant.
I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, hold the tupperware of muffins I brought in front of me like a shield, or a peace offering, depending on what’s needed, and I ascend the steps to the porch.
Before I even knock, the door swings open like I’m at the Addams Family mansion. I half expect Lurch to say, “You Raaang?” But, instead, a different scowl greets me.
“You showed?” Grant says with a bit of surprise in his tone.
