Page 47 of Dr. Do-Right
“Oh, you fuckin’ think?” Sonia mocked, handing cups of coffee over to me and Mal. A thick bandage hid the line of stitches running up her arm.
Mal glanced at the Keurig brew, but said nothing as he took a sip. It was progress.
I used to think my and Sonia’s apartment was practically a palace, but I’d gotten used to the space of the penthouse faster than I’d thought was possible. Holing up here while the cleaning crews scrubbed blood and spackled bullet holes kind of felt like camping, now. I missed the massive multi-jet shower. Mal was jonesing for his espresso machine. Siggy was just happy to have everyone in one room, hopping from lap to lap as we sat and watched the morning news.
“Tough stuff there, Chaz,” the local news anchor shook her head, her blown-out bob swaying around her face as she shook her head.
“Absolutely, Sharon. I can’t imagine what the past few days have been like for Dr. Dobrev and his family. Our thoughts and prayers are with them.”
“See, Mom? We have Sharon and Chaz’s thoughts and prayers. We’re going to be just fine,” Mal grinned at where his mother was furiously crocheting in a ratan armchair across the room. Joanne and Richard Dobrev had been on a flight to Chicago the second Mal had called them to tell them about Christine’s attack. They’d been crashing in the guest room slash pilates studio and hovering over us ever since the plane had landed.
I’d met them both several times, but this visit felt different for many reasons. They’d always been lovely to me, sincere and warm. Now, after I’d almost died with their children, they barreled straight into affectionate and doting territory.
I was sure it was because of Christine’s attack, but I was equally sure it had something to do with Malachi telling them we were together. Joanne had given me a hug that had never seemed like it was going to end, while Richard made me a hot toddy and promptly sent me to bed as soon as my mug was empty.
“Well, I’m sure Chaz and Sharon are perfectly nice people, but I still feel like we should be closer.” She glanced up from her yarn, looking at her husband for backup. Richard hummed, stroking his beard.
“I’ve already found a few apartments in the city that could work. Especially when I officially retire next year,” Richard offered, waving his iPad in the air.
Sonia glanced back at Mal. She loved her parents, but having lived so long away from them, she was concerned they’d cramp her style if they moved to Chicago. Mal shrugged, unconcerned. Ididn’t help, smiling into my coffee. Maybe the parental hovering would get tiring after a while, but I couldn’t say I hated it. My eyes had nearly bugged out of my head when Joanne had started talking about moving to the city “to be closer to her babies.” I didn’t realize parentsdid that,just packed up and moved their lives for their kids. I couldn’t imagine it.
“Ma’am?” Aiden stuck his head in from the hallway. Sonia rolled her eyes, sighing.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” She slung her purse over her shoulder. He looked unrepentant as she brushed past him.
“Force of habit. Ma’am.”
We could still hear her berating him after the hallway door closed. It was all in good fun. Since Sonia had barely left Asher’s side since he was shot, she was getting pretty close to the RISI guys. She only came home when hospital visiting hours were over to shower and eat, and for lunch to catch up with her parents.
She’d been quiet for the last two days. Admittedly, all of us had, but she had a new, solemn aura around her that didn’t feel quite right. She kept up her usual joking and inappropriate comments, but they seemed forced, like she was going through the motions instead of living in the moment.
“We’ll support her however she needs. But we’ve all been through a trauma. It’s normal to need some time to recalibrate, or reflect,” Mal had told me, rubbing a soothing hand up and down my arm when I’d mentioned it to him. I grudgingly agreed, though I was keeping a close eye on both of them, just like I noticed them eyeing me over the last few days.
It still felt so surreal. Sometimes, I could blink and be right back in the hallway, the barrel of a gun pointed in my direction. Sometimes, cuddled on the couch with Mal and Siggy whileJoanne worked on a cardigan for me, I felt like I’d made it all up, or it had all been a bad dream.
It didn’t help that Caplan had given me the next two weeks off work to recover. Without my regular schedule and routine to ground me, everything felt off. I was in my apartment, but with Mal—always Mal, right there in touching distance, constantly Mal. Living my life, but with a personal security guard outside my door. I was still the same person I was before all this happened, but I absolutely was not.
“Dr. Dobrev, Miss Sanchez,” Grayson rose, tapping his earpiece. “Just got word the penthouse is ready, if you’d like to go take a look. Make sure it’s up to your standards before they pack up.”
“Oh, I…so soon? That was fast, right?” I asked as Mal stood to put his coffee mug in the sink.
“Our crews work quick,” Grayson shrugged. “We want you back to normal as quickly as possible. It can help, in situations like this.” One more apology gift from the RISI team. Their crew of “fixers” had swept into the penthouse within hours of the shooting and had gotten to work setting everything to rights. “I can escort you, if you’d like.” He nodded to the door, where Mal was already waiting.
“Oh, that’s so gracious! You two go take a look. I’m sure it’s just beautiful,” Joanne cooed. Richard grunted, still scrolling through his real estate app, laser-focused.
I rose, not sure why my feet suddenly had such a hard time moving me across the floor. “Right now?”
Mal froze, head swinging to look at me. “Is that a problem? If you aren’t up for it, Ri, I can go.”
“No!” I scampered across the floor, shoving my feet into the flip-flops by the door. I might have gotten a bizarre pressure in my chest at the thought of going back up to the penthouse, but the thought of him going up there alone made me palpitate.“No,” I repeated more calmly when his eyes narrowed at me. I couldfeelhim sizing me up, therapy vision activated. “Let’s go.”
“Ri, seriously, I can go by myself.”
I pulled him into the hall towards the elevators. Grayson followed a few paces behind. I was going to miss his steady presence hanging around. “No, I want to see. I just…feel…” I trailed off, finger hovering over the button for the penthouse. Malachi stood next to me, hand on the small of my back, patient. I swallowed. “It’s just a lot,” I whispered, blinking away a few tears that fogged up my vision.
Mal nodded, stepping closer, like he knew I needed more support right now. “It is a lot. It’s hard to move on when something like this happens. What are you feeling? Right this second?”
Oh, great. Now he was validating my feelings and asking me to name my emotions. I flopped my head to the side, resting it on his shoulder. “I have my own therapist, you know.” And Dr. Peterson had been a lifesaver, booking an emergency appointment and scheduling sessions every day for the next week.
