Page 77 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
EVE
Sallyknockedatmydoor claiming she needed help with Santa’s mother (her mother-in-law).Which she did.But only to show me a“suspicious mole”that turned out to be chocolate sauce.Once I was downstairs, away from my emotional support pickle and my methodically organized charts, Sally revealed her true agenda.
“Eve, listen, small towns help doctors and nurses really treat people.Know them.See them,” Sally says, linking her arm through mine.Then she adds, grabbing my other arm dramatically, “Plus, I think I hurt my ankle and need help walking.”
As soon as we arrive at the park, her limp miraculously disappears like Chuck’s wedding vows.Another person directing my movements like a chess piece on their board.I push the thought away.It’s not fair to compare Sally’s well-meaning meddling to Chuck’s calculated control.
“How’s that little troublemaker doing?”Margaret asks as we navigate through the festive crowd.“LoverBoy settling in with your crew?”
“Dorothy’s teaching him her sock-stealing techniques,” I admit.“They’ve formed quite the criminal enterprise.”
“Talking about criminal enterprise.”The conversation shifts toDante’s Secrets,and Margaret sighs.“I love how Dante truly falls for Catharina when he sees her working as a school nurse tending to that child who broke his arm.Shows his softer side.”
“That was one of the most authentic parts,” I find myself saying.“The way she talked to the boy about managing his cast without scaring him.”
“You sound like you’ve had experience,” Sally observes.“Have you ever considered pediatrics?Or school nursing?”
I shake my head quickly.“Me?No.I’m too clinical.Not maternal enough.”The words come out automatically, echoes of Chuck’s assessments.“My ex always said I’d frighten children with my medical terminology.”
Margaret frowns slightly.“Really?Because I saw you with Megan, explaining her glucose monitor using those dinosaur stickers.You made a complicated medical concept accessible without talking down to her.That little girl hasn’t stopped asking about ‘Nurse Eve’.”
“That was…” I trail off, something shifting in my perception.The memory of Megan’s delighted face flashes through my mind, challenging Chuck’s voice in my head.“A moment.”
“If you say so…”
“If Dante were real,” I say, changing the subject as my cheeks warm, “he’d need custom underwear and would pass out every time he got excited due to blood redistribution issues.”
Margaret’s laugh is full-throated and uninhibited—the kind that would have had Chuck hissing“we’re in public”with that tight smile that meant I’d embarrassed him again.Instead, Margaret wipes tears from her eyes and says, “Eve Foster, you are exactly what this town needs.Or someone in this town.”
It’s too much, too fast.This easy acceptance, this sense of belonging I haven’t earned.I step away, mumbling something about needing hot chocolate.
Three older women nod as I pass, whispering something about“the Chicago nurse”that makes me walk faster.
“Unicorn hot chocolate for the lady who’s running from carolers?”Frank steps beside me, his professional insurance-agent smile firmly in place.
I straighten my spine.“I’m not running.I’m...strategically relocating.”
“Of course.”His gaze flickers to where I left Margaret and Sally.“They can be a lot.The whole town can, honestly.”
“I’ve noticed,” I say dryly.
Frank steps closer, lowering his voice.“Adam told you he’s leaving soon, right?”
Something in his tone sets off my clinical alarm bells.“He mentioned it.”
“Did he mention where?”Frank studies my face with an intensity that feels almost medical.“No?Interesting.”
“I didn’t ask.”The lie slides out easily.“I’m temporary.He’s temporary.Details aren’t necessary.”
“See, that’s what’s funny about Pine Creek.”Frank’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.“People act like they’re passing through, then they’ve put down roots.Or they convince others to put down roots with a person, then destroy those roots quicker than you can say ‘let’s take a break.’”
I bristle at his insinuation.“I’m a nurse, not a houseplant.As for Adam—”
“As for Adam what?”Frank raises an eyebrow.
“As for Adam,” I continue, finding my professional voice, “if you have something to say about him, you should probably say it to him directly.”
Frank takes a step back, evaluating me with newfound interest.“He didn’t mention you had claws, Chicago.”
