Page 69 of RomeAntically Challenged
Dottie handed Les her card and scribbled her personal extension on it, which seemed to placate him.
He stuck the card in his shirt pocket and gave it a pat. “Got my picture taken and a number. Wait till I show the guys at bingo.”
By the time Annie got him back to the welcome room, he was all worked up again. His skin was pale, and he looked ready to fall asleep—right there in his chair.
“I don’t think you should drive right now,” she said. “Is there someone I can call to pick you up?”
“Nope. Five minutes and I’ll be good to go.”
Five hours was more like it. So when he closed his eyes, Annie went to the closest terminal and opened his file. She scanned down to the emergency contact person, and Annie had to check her own heart rate.
Convinced it had to be either another clerical error or the universe’s way of telling her she shouldn’t walk outside in a thunderstorm, she double—then triple—checked.
Oh boy.
“Um, Les, why don’t I give your son a call.”I have his number in my phone. It’s the one with all the sexting under the name, Big Bad Wolf.
Les was suddenly wide awake and standing next to her. “Don’t bother. He doesn’t have time to pick me up.”
“What do you mean? Your sonEmmitthas plenty of time for his dad.” Annie waited for Les to correct her, to tell her his son was named Dale and lived in Alaska on a husky ranch. But Les didn’t so much as blink.
“He’s a big-shot photographer,” Les said, and Annie couldn’t help but notice the sadness under the pride when he spoke. “Travels the world and reports on things. Big stories. In fact, he’s on assignment in Tasmania doing a story on those spinning devils.”
The way his gaze kept darting around as he spoke told Annie that Emmitt wasn’t some deadbeat son who wouldn’t come get his dad if called. Les didn’t want to call him for some other reason.
Emmitt never brought up his dad, even when Annie spoke of hers. He talked about Paisley, Levi, Gray, even Paisley’s mom. Never once had he brought up Les. Which wouldn’t be all that strange, since the two of them were just roommates—and new ones at that—except he knew she was a medical practitioner.
The moment people found out what she did for a living, they disclosed every ailment they or their family were suffering from. Questions about treatments, side effects, if their doctor’s advice was sound.
Unless she was at work, Annie always redirected them back to their medical professional. She hadn’t had to redirect Emmitt, because he’d never said a word.
“Les,” she began softly. “Does he know you have cancer?”
Les looked as if his legs were going to give out, so she sat him down.
“Only Chip from my complex knows,” he admitted. “And that’s how I want it to stay.”
“It’s proven that patients who have their family’s support have greater odds of beating it. They heal faster, they’re happier, and”—she took his hand—“they don’t have to go through it alone. Can’t argue with science.”
“It’s my constitutional right to argue with anyone I want. And I’m not alone.” He took his hand away. “I have Chip. And I’ll tell you what I told that doctor of mine. I’ll sue anyone at this hospital who says boo to my family.”
Great, one more secret to keep from Emmitt. Not only couldn’t she kiss him for fear of falling in like with him, but now she couldn’t tell him that his dad has stage three cancer.
“At least let me call Chip and have him pick you up,” she asked.
“Only if you’re holding my hand when he pulls in.”
Like father, like son.
* * *
It was a matzo ball standoff. Annie on one side of the counter, whisk in hand. Maura on the other, her face bigger than life on Annie’s tablet. No matter how many times Annie explained she didn’t need to hold her iPad to her face, Maura seemed to think the closer she got to the screen, the closer she was to Annie.
It was either video call Maura or run the risk of her showing up on Annie’s front porch, with a suitcase big enough for a two-week stay.
“Scooch me closer,” Maura said, her squinting eyes filling the entire screen. When that didn’t work, she put on her reading glasses. “Are those jars? There are no jars in my recipe.”
Shoot. Annie had forgotten to move them out of sight when she emptied the groceries.
