Page 8 of Dating the DILF
“I really am sorry it ended like that, but I’ve got to say, it’s kind of nice to see you finally being affected by someone like that.” She shakes her head, a look of concern settling over her face. “I mean, for a while there I was really beginning to worry that you might be an emotionless robot sent from the future to destroy all of mankind.” She scrunches her nose. “It’s good to know you’re simply an introvert who hates people. I feel like I can relax now.”
“Get out!”
She pokes her tongue out at me and finally leaves, pulling the door closed behind her.
I groan loudly and bang my head down onto my desk. Adelaide has a point though, I have to give her that. It’s also not the first time someone has insinuated that I’m too unemotional. My childhood was what could politely be called chaotic. Growing up with a mother who didn’t really care for the job too much, preferring to spend her time gambling and looking for the next man to support her, I always felt as though I was in a never-ending state of flux. If it wasn’t for my grandparents, I wouldn’t have had any kind of stability at all.
After a childhood like that, I crave balance and emotional consistency. Both of which are nearly impossible to find in personal relationships and I realized early on that I was much happier when left to myself. With the exception of my childhood best friend, Wyatt, Adelaide is my only real friend. Considering she’s my assistant, most people would find that sad. I find it a relief.
But my encounter with Miles has definitely left me rattled. I enjoyed bantering with him. Bantering? When did I become a woman who banters? I have to admit, if only to myself, that I felt more alive in that five-minute exchange than I possibly ever have before. While I would expect the strength of that emotion, and the vulnerability it opens me up to, to terrify me, all I’m craving is the need for more.
And I think that is what frightens me most of all.
Sitting up, I rub the heel of my hand across my chest in an attempt to dislodge the tightness there. It is all a moot point anyway. The odds I’ll ever run into Miles again are probably a million to one.
I had my chance and I blew it, but I make a promise to myself that if I ever do see him again, I will put my big girl panties on, and I’ll ask him out.
Of course, I make this promise knowing full well it will never happen. I can’t decide if that is karma being cruel or kind, but either way, I’m confident I won’t be seeing Miles again.
“Scruffy is going to be fine, Mrs. Connelly. Get this medication into him twice a day and he’ll be chasing Frida’s cat again before you know it.”
“Thank you, Miles.” She looks at me and the deep-set wrinkles around her eyes sharpen as she smiles at me kindly. “I was so worried.”
She lifts the tiny dog into her arms and a tiny grunt slips out at the effort. I can’t help but wish she would be as vigilant with her own health as she is with her pet.
I take her by the elbow and lead her out to the front office where our receptionist will take care of the bill.
“Kyla, it was level five consult today for Mrs. Connelly.” Her eyes soften in understanding and she nods before turning to the computer to work her magic.
I lean down to the elderly woman in front of me and give her hand a gentle squeeze.
“If Scruffy isn’t looking better in a day or two, don’t hesitate to call me, okay? You have my cell number, so I can be reached at any time.”
She nuzzles into the small dog, peppering his head with kisses. “Thank you, Miles. I appreciate that, I really do.”
Turning, I stride to my office and glance at my watch. Fifteen minutes until my next appointment. Determined to get to my computer so I can continue my Facebook search for every Charlotte that lives in Chicago, I quicken my steps.
Settling at my desk, I have just pulled up my social media when my door bursts open.
“Another ‘level five’ consult? You’re going to put us out of business.” Camden, my business partner and best friend, glares at me across the room. “That medication you gave her was worth a couple hundred dollars alone, Miles. I’ve got kids to feed, you know.” He sighs in exasperation.
I smirk at him, knowing how much it will infuriate him. A level five consult is a code I came up with to let Kyla know she is only to bill the patient a flat fifty-dollar fee.
“Jesus, relax, Cam. I cover the rest of the bill out of my own pocket. Tyson and Brianna’s Happy Meals are safe, I swear.” Shaking my head, I try to subtly turn the computer screen so he can’t see it, without him noticing. “How’d you find out anyway?”
“I heard you mention it to Kyla a couple of weeks ago and she told me. I meant to bring it up then, but I got distracted.” He stalks across my office and plants his ass on the corner of my desk. “Your heart is bigger than your bank balance, dude. Has been ever since college. I hope you know when you go bankrupt, you’re not sleeping on my couch.”
“I would expect nothing less, you asshole. Now, did you want something else or are you just here to bust my balls. I have a patient in”—I grab my phone and check the time—“nine minutes.”
“Just here to bust your—What’s that?” He raises an eyebrow at me and nods toward the screen in front of me.
“It’s a computer, genius. Are you sure you graduated college?” I try my best to deflect, but I already know he won’t let this go.
“That, my friend, is Facebook. You haven’t been on Facebook since—”
“Yeah, I know,” I cut him off. “I just figured enough time had passed and I wanted to catch up on things.”
“I don’t know, man.” He rolls his shoulders as though trying to release the tension that is suddenly vibrating through the room. “I still see some pretty fucking epic memes about you doing the rounds. It hasn’t been that long. Wait.” He peers at the screen. “Who is Charlotte Chicago?”
