Page 103 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
And I definitely haven’t written:I’m falling for Adam Harrison, harder than I ever expected, and the thought of him moving there without me makes my chest ache in ways I can’t explain even to myself yet.
LoverBoy stretches, pressing his warm body against my thigh as my phone buzzes with a group FaceTime.Claire and Poppy’s faces fill my screen, both looking expectant.
“Tell me you clicked ‘Submit’ already,” Claire says without preamble, her hair pulled back in the tight bun that means she’s almost ready to go to another shift.
“Final verification,” I say, and Poppy snorts.“Stalling.”
“I am not—” I sigh.“Fine.I’m stalling.But moving back to Cape Cod isn’t like moving anywhere else.It’s...”
“Going back to where it all happened,” Claire finishes softly.
I nod, absently tracing the raised edge of my scar beneath my collarbone.“But it’s more than that.This position… it’s different from anything I’ve done before.”
“And maybe that’s what makes it perfect,” Poppy says.“And I’m not only saying that because you’ll be super close to me.”
I shift, pulling my knees to my chest.“The past few weeks with Megan and Jamie and the other kids at the clinic...it’s reminded me why I became a nurse in the first place.Not to develop protocols or win awards, but to be there when someone’s scared and confused.To make the complicated parts of healthcare make sense.”
“True.And don’t forget about your big idea,” Poppy adds, reminding me I’ve texted them a picture of what I’ve been thinking about.
Heat rises to my cheeks.“It’s a concept right now.”
“It’s brilliant,” Poppy insists.
I clear my throat, picking up LoverBoy and settling him in my lap.“I’ve been watching these kids with their pets.How Megan’s anxiety decreases when she explains glucose monitoring to her bearded dragon.How Jamie breathes easier with his dog.”
I sketch a quick diagram on my notepad while explaining—the same way I once illustrated pig anatomy facts for Adam years ago.“See, the veterinary services would connect here with pediatrics, creating a continuous support system.In videos if the kids can’t have visitors.Messages from their pets if they can’t pet them.”My hands are moving with excitement I don’t bother to contain.No symptom-suppression necessary.
I trail off, “Anyway, it’s an idea.But this part-time position would give me time to develop it.Maybe even start a pilot program.”
“And it would let you work with a certain veterinarian with large hands,” Claire adds innocently.
“That’s not—” I start, then stop myself.Because it would be a lie to say Adam isn’t part of this equation.“Not the only reason,” I amend.“But yes, being near Adam matters to me.”
“Have you told him you’re considering it?”Poppy asks.
I shake my head.“I want to tell him in person.I’m not even sure what I’ll say yet.Or how I feel about...”I pause, carefully choosing my words.“About what’s happening between us.”
“You mean the fact that you’re completely falling for him?”Claire suggests, her eyebrows raised.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re watching a Hallmark movie; I can see it.Plus, your face does this thing when you talk about him—” Claire’s expression softens into what I assume is a distressingly accurate imitation of my own lovestruck look.
“Very clinical observation,” I mutter, mentally noting my own symptoms: elevated heart rate, facial warming, and the ridiculous urge to smile whenever I think about that blue-eyed veterinarian walking our dogs.What would Nurse Foster diagnose?Amazing case offalling-for-your-second-chance-itis?
After promising updates and refreshing the application a couple of times, rereading it, I find myself reaching for my phone again, this time dialing a different number.It rings twice before he answers.
“Evie girl!”Papet’s voice immediately settles something restless inside me.“Calling in during the afternoon?What a treat.”
“Papet,” I say, finding comfort in the familiar nickname.“I’m not interrupting your afternoon nap, am I?”
He laughs, the sound bringing back memories of afternoons in his workshop, sawdust catching the sunlight.“At eighty-three, I’ve earned the right to nap whenever I please, but no.I’m out on the dock, watching the boats come in.”
I can picture him there, weathered hands around a mug of tea, watching the bay with his lifelong patience.“How’s the water today?”I ask, our familiar ritual.
“Choppy near the point, smooth in the harbor.Just the way we like it.”He pauses.“What’s got you calling?Everything alright?
LoverBoy shifts, head tilting like he’s waiting for my answer.
