Page 121 of Carry On
He’s too good for you,the voice stated.
That much I did know.
“Do you want me to stay home?” He kissed my other temple, and it took everything I had not to lean into it.
“No.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I’ll be fine,” I lied.
“Okay,” Lincoln said, but I could hear the doubt in his voice.
He knows you’re lying to him,the voice cut in.
He probably did. I couldn’t fix that.
You can’t fix anything,the voice said.
I sighed, realizing there was no shutting it up. No stopping it.
“Call me if you need me, Nash,” Lincoln continued. I nodded slightly, turning into him to kiss him. “I have court later today, but I can rearrange the rest of my schedule if I need to.”
“Don’t do that,” I replied. I didn’t need to be the reason he uprooted his whole life. I couldn’t be.
“I’m serious.”
“Please, don’t.”
“Just call me if you need me,” he repeated, ignoring me. Damn man. He kissed me once. Twice. Three times. Each one lingered a little longer than the previous. Softly, he added, “I’m aware of how unconventional we are, but I am happy, Lucky, with you.”
He’s just saying it to say it,the voice interjected.
“Okay,” I muttered. His fingers tightened in my hair, and he kissed me, the affection more intense and emotional. A kiss full of things we both struggled to say to each other.
There were so many weird and new feelings involved where Lincoln was concerned. They were things I’d never felt before and things I didn’t belong feeling for someone like Lincoln. For someone who could have anyone in the world if he wanted them, I didn’t understand why he wanted me.
“The first available opening Dr. Meyers has is in March,” the woman said, and I frowned. She had to be fucking kidding me. “He has—”
“March?” I repeated, positive I’d heard her wrong. “As innextMarch? As in next year?”
“That’s correct,” she confirmed.
“Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not,” she replied. “It’s his first available. I do have to inform you that since we are associated with the hospital, Dr Meyers is the on-call neurosurgeon at times. If something should happen on the day of your appointment, and he needs to go in, your appointment will be rescheduled.”
What the actual fuck?
“It’ll be—are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, Mr. Calhoun, I am not,” she practically snapped, her voice dripping in annoyance.
“To what?” I demanded. “To the—”
“—next available appointment he has, yes,” she finished for me.
“And what if that’s another eight fucking months? Who made up this fucking system?”
