Not that we could legally get married. Well, in Hawaii, I think. And Vermont, sort of. I mean, a civil union was the same thing, right? Of course, they just legalized gay marriage in Canada a few weeks ago. Canada was closest. We’d probably go there.
We could honeymoon in Toronto, maybe? I’ve never been there, but they had to have gay bars, didn’t they? Though, I suppose if you’re married you don’tneedgay bars. But they’re nice to have around. You can meet other couples or just focus on having drinks.
I had the strange, secret feeling this might work out. All I had to do was convince him to move to Los Angeles with me. Being a doctor’s wife would be a huge upgrade from barista. I wondered how long it would take before he’d pay off my debts? And maybe buy me a really nice car?
Done with my shower, I dug through the closet looking for a particular T-shirt. It was just a simple black one, but it was XS which meant it clung to me like spray paint while showing off a good inch of skin at the waistband. I wore the shirt with my everyday jeans, so it didn’t look too calculated.
Dr. Edward Stewart lived in a condominium sitting on a hill above Masons Bay. He was literally five minutes away, which was going to be super convenient for future booty calls. Exciting, right?
The complex was a dozen or so individual two-story buildings, each with two or three units. They had to be enormous inside. The grounds were immaculate. Obviously, when I convinced him to move to L.A. with me, we were going to have tolive in Brentwood or Beverly Hills. He had taste. I drove around until I found his condo and parked behind his two-car garage.
Nervously, I walked up his sidewalk to the front door and rang the bell. A few moments later he answered the door—in nothing but a pair of jeans. His chest was wide and well-muscled with a layer of neatly trimmed dark hair.
I nearly passed out just so he could give me CPR.
Without a word he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. Oh. My. God. This was so much better than the Tina-influenced kiss I’d gotten from Denny. And I had the distinct feeling it was going to get better from here, not worse. We kissed for about as long as I could stand it and then I pushed him away to ask, “I thought we were taking this slow. What changed your mind?”
“I lost a patient. Overdose. Reminded me how fragile life is and that we need to, you know, seize the day.”
Honestly, I was hoping for something along the lines of ‘You’re just too sexy to resist.’ We’re all going to die, so let’s hurry up and live was not what I’d call sexy.
Edward, however, still was. Incredibly sexy. I dove back in for another long, passionate kiss. I had my hands all over his chest. He was so hot. I mean literally. I wondered if he had a fever.
He pulled me into his condo. We got exactly two feet before he was pushing me up against the wall. He slid his hands into my jeans in the back, slipping them into my underwear.
I reached down and unzipped the jeans and then tried to shimmy out of them, all the while maintaining the kiss. My jeans were mid-thigh when everything fell out of my pockets. Loose change, dollar bills, a receipt from Drip, my emergency Oxys wrapped in foil, three sticks of juicy fruit, a peppermint breath mint, my keys, stinky dog treats for Riley.
Edward looked down and laughed. He crouched down and started picking up my things.
“That’s okay. Just leave it,” I said. “I’ll come back later.”
It did kind of break the mood. He handed me my loose change. I stepped out of my jeans and put the change back in the front pocket. I wasn’t sure what to do with the pants, should I fold them? Should I toss them on the floor? Or just set them so the change didn’t—
I glanced at Edward and saw that he’d opened the foil on my Oxys. He looked up at me, hurt in his eyes, and asked, “Why do you have these?”
“I have a prescription,” I said, reflexively.
“From Dr. Blinski?”
“Yeah. How did you know that?”
“Everybody knows what he’s doing. Henry, these are dangerous. Very dangerous. They’re addictive. The pharmaceutical company tells doctors they’re not addictive, which is why they’re so easy to get, but it’s not true. It’s an outright lie.”
“Well, I’m not an addict,” I said. “I just like having fun sometimes.”
“And you carry pills around in case you have a ‘fun’ emergency?”
Well, that was snarky.
“What’s the big deal? You gave me some.”
“I gave you ten. At the lowest possible dosage. There’s no reason for you to still be taking pain pills. Your ankle is fine.”
“It hurts.”
“The overdose I mentioned. That was Oxycontin. I watched someone die from these just a few hours ago. Henry, I can’t have anything to do with this.”
He gave me a look that made it clear he thought I was lying. About my ankle, about having fun, about being an addict. I hate that. I mean, yeah, Iwaslying about my ankle. But that was all. Really.
