Page 44 of Holiday Wedding
She shrugs. “I don’t know, but you shouldn’t make any assumptions. Your research is strong, and it’s important. You’ve found another path to identifying cancer before it has a chance to spread.”
I meet her eyes, trying to see if she’s humoring me, but she’s not that type. Helen doesn’t sugarcoat what she says. “You really believe that?” I ask, relieved my message reached at least one person.
A decisive nod from her. “I do. So much that I’m going to recommend it at my hospital when I get home. We can easily replicate the program you’ve created.”
I straighten, a little of my gloom lifting. “That’d be great.”
“I doubt I’m the only one. I bet quite a few of the doctors in that room will go back and suggest cancer screening for ER patients in their institutions.”
Her words help. Today didn’t go as I planned. Not at all. But if I can save just a single family from what I went through when I lost my dad, then it’ll all be worth it.
“I hope so,” I tell her. “I really hope so.”
15
Tuesday, December 17
7 days until the wedding
Jenny
The only part of me that’s warm is my hand, from the cup of coffee steaming in it. I rap once, hard, on the car window. Dean lets me in, surprise registering on his face.
“Here.” I shove the drink at him. “I brought you this.”
“Um, thanks?” He stares at it like it might explode.
Are we back to this? Back to hating each other? Not trusting each other? Back to him thinking I’m crazy? I thought we had a breakthrough at the cake tasting two days ago, but maybe I was wrong.
I haven’t seen him since then. Caleb’s been working in his restaurant and on Broadway with no special events, giving me a rare couple of days off. I don’t do well with free time. I spent it on the computer, double-checking that my code was correct. The program I created was running smoothly, filtering slowly through the over 800 suspects on Dean’s list.
My mind had wandered a lot during that time, mostly to a certain stern-faced, brown-eyed man. Whenever I thought of him, I’d felt a strange urge to see him. A magnetic pull to hunt him down. I ignored it until this evening, when it finally became too much. A quick stop at the local café and now I’m sitting in the car with him.
Wondering how I got here.
Wondering if this is a good idea.
I continue to wage my internal battle while Dean takes the first sips of his drink. I’m about to give up and leave when he smiles at me and says, “Thanks for this. It’s really good.”
It’s an open, honest kind of smile.OHMYGOSH, is that a dimple in his cheek?Now I’m in a quandary. I’m not sure which is better, his laugh or his smile. These thoughts are the last thing I need. On top of that, I’ve always been a sucker for a dimple.
“This was really nice of you. Are you all right?” Dean goes from that near-perfect smile to a frown of concern in zero to sixty.
I dig a peppermint candy out of my purse and eat it right in front of him, because who cares? My cover is blown.
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” I grumble in a very “not fine” tone. I cram the empty wrapper back into my purse, unwilling to litter in his car.
He’s eying me cautiously, like a wild horse he needs to tame. “My sister once told me that when a woman says she’s fine, it usually means the opposite.”
And there it is. The problem. I didn’t even know he had a sister. I don’t know anything about this man, so I have no right to be freaking out over his fantastic laugh or dimpled smile.
UGH.
My hand goes to my shirt, pulling it down over my stomach, which I suck in instinctively.
He’s staring at me, waiting for me to respond like a normal person, but all I have is frustrated silence. Finally, I ask, “You have a sister?”
“Three sisters,” he chuckles. “All younger. When they started dating, it almost killed me. You can’t imagine the grief I gave their boyfriends.”
