Page 54 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
“Oh, he is in some ways.Brilliant diagnostician.Charming at parties.Half the hospital worships him.”She shrugs, like she’s trying to be fair.“The other half sees through his bullshit.”
This glimpse of the Eve from last night, honest and unguarded, arrives like a gift I didn’t expect this morning.After the way she’d pulled back, I figured those walls were back up for good.
“I actually tried to warn Jennie.”Her voice drops lower.“Last week, I sent her a text.Pretty sure she blocked my number.”
“You warned his fiancée?”
“Tried to.She’s the one I found in the closet with him.My former mentee.He’s marrying her.”
“Shit, Eve.”
“Yeah.”She glances away, then back.“Jennie’s the same age I was when we started dating,” Eve adds quietly.“Young.Vulnerable.Looking for approval.”She shakes her head.“I wish I could get through to her before she ends up where I did.”
I nod, understanding her concern isn’t pettiness or jealousy.It’s genuine worry for someone walking into the same trap she did.
“Maybe she’ll figure it out on her own,” I offer, wanting to give Eve some peace of mind.
“Maybe, but learning it the hard way shouldn’t have to hurt so damn much when Chuck’s lied to her over and over again.I used to believe him, too.So, I get it.I get her.”The weariness in her tone tugs at my heart.
I scratch LoverBoy’s ears as Dorothy and Blanche gather near me.Dorothy’s tiny body vibrates with morning energy, her tail a blur as she spins in excited circles.Blanche eyes the door with what I’m learning is her characteristic mix of anxiety and resignation, a dramatic sigh escaping her massive chest.
LoverBoy, who once wouldn’t let anyone touch him, now leans into my palm with complete trust, his tiny eyes closing in contentment.He’s even started mimicking Blanche’s dramatic sighs.A tiny version of herlarger-than-lifepersonality, like he’s found a role model.
They’ve positioned themselves between Eve and me, like furry mediators in a negotiation neither of us knows how to begin.
“I need to get going.”Eve tucks her phone away, double checking her bag, adding her e-reader to her purse.“Also, I’m sorry about the mess.”
“What mess?”
She gestures to her half-open suitcase, to the clothes on her side of the bed, to the dog’s beds and toys and food.Her fingers flutter nervously, like she’s mentally cataloging each item out of place.
“Don’t get me wrong, I like tidy, but you arrived yesterday.There was a pipe issue…”
“That’s right.I still have some suitcases there.”
“I’ll ask Sally to get them or I’ll do it myself.”
“I’ll ask Sally.You have plenty of things to do.”She rubs the spot between her eyebrows.
“Okay.”
“But you’re starting a new job today.This isn’t messy…”
“I’ll clean it up tonight.”She hesitates as she glances at her crochet project, tugging absently at the sleeve of her scrubs.
“You’re not bringing it with you?”I nod toward the half-finished Martian Pickle still on the desk.
“It’s silly.”
“It’s charming.”
“It’s a Martian Dick.”
I shrug.“Emotional support pickle.”
She huffs.“I was going to make a bigger one.”
“A super-sized emotional support pickle?Bold move.”
