Page 92 of Tumbleweed Temptation
“Abdomen,” Austin said. “But I don't want to be more specific until we get the results. I put a stat order on them, so I should have them tomorrow morning. Please, Mr. McKay. I don't want to give you the wrong information, and I don't want to worry you needlessly.”
The older man let out a long breath. “But you’re concerned.”
“I’m wanting to get to the bottom of this, is all. And I want to present you with just facts. You understand that, don't you? I mean, I know you want answers. I know how hard it is to be uncertain. But I don't want to give you false fears, or false hope.”
Mr. McKay pressed his lips together and nodded. “I understand.”
Thankfully the waiter delivered the bottles to the table, and Austin helped himself, nearly draining half the bottle before setting it back on the cardboard coaster. Mr. McKay lifted a sardonic eyebrow.
“Thirsty,” Austin said.
Mr. McKay nodded, and opened his menu. “Get whatever you want. It’s on me.” When Austin would protest, the other man held up a meaty hand, palm out. “No. Arguments.”
Hours later, literally, Austin was never so glad to get home. He had survived hours of conversation with the man he’d dreaded working with the most. He had stood up for himself and his mom, and he had kept mostly pretty civil. He was surprised when he opened the front door to see the light on in the office. He tested the knob to find it locked, pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. He stepped in to see Ginny at the desk. Her entire body was rigid as she watched the door, but relaxed when he walked through.
“What are you doing here?”
She eased back in the chair. “Working on the calendar for next month. And waiting for you.”
“Why waiting for me?” He dropped into one of the chairs in the waiting room and looked across the desk at her.
“Worried about you, is all. You were being so mysterious about your plans today.”
“Doctor patient confidentiality.”
“Sure, I get that, but you were also super stressed about it yesterday, so I was waiting for you.”
“You didn't have to do that. You had the day off.”
“And I used it. Got a lot of editing done, a project sent back. Of course, two more landed in my inbox, but I worked on the calendar for that, too.” She smiled at him and rose. “You want to go and get something to eat?”
He groaned and patted his stomach. “Had a big lunch.”
She angled her head. “Okay, then. I’m going to head out, then, unless you need anything.”
He knew what she wanted. She wanted him to need her. But he didn't want to talk about his day, didn't want to talk about Mr. McKay. He really just wanted to be alone.
“No, I’m good. Thanks, though. Thanks for waiting and, you know, doing the calendar and all that.”
She lifted a shoulder, averting her gaze. Yep, he’d pegged it. She’d wanted to spend more time with him, but he just didn't have the reserves right now.
“Sure. You know. Part of the job.” She gave him one last look as she walked past him. “Oh, one more thing. I found out the funeral is Friday in Kimmel.”
“Ah.”
“You said you wanted to go. Do you still? You don't have to go, put yourself through that.”
“I want to go.”
She nodded and turned back to the desk. “I’ll reschedule your appointments.”
“Thank God there aren’t that many,” he said in a lame attempt at a joke.
“Just four, I think, since we haven't been scheduling them after three on game days.”
He nodded and pushed himself out of the chair. “Thanks for taking care of that. I’m going to go up. I’m wiped out.” He wanted to lose himself in some movie he’d seen a million times, or binge some TV show, anything to push the sadness of the week out of his mind.
The phone cradled between her head and shoulder, she nodded and waved. “See you in the morning.”
