Page 59 of Cluelessly Yours

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he states. “You never get pissed when I call you in, you’re never this fucking silent on our runs, and you currently have quite the look on your face.”

I scoff. “I don’t have a look.”

“Trust me, you have a look.” Dale snorts. “Though, I can’t decide if it’s constipation or something else entirely. You’re a difficult man to read.”

“Why are all you ER doctors so obsessed with everyone else’s bowel function? It’s deranged.”

“Gut health is at the foundation of everything. It’s smart medicine,” he retorts, and his grin is cheeky. “So…is that it? Are you constipated, Noah? Because I got your back, man. I’ll prescribe you the good stuff. Have you shitting in no time.”

“I don’t need your black-market laxatives.” I elbow him in the side, and he blesses my ears with a painful grunt.

“Then what’s the deal?” he questions, still holding his ribs while keeping up with my pace. When I don’t respond, he adds, “Just so you know, the instant we catch up with Kendall, even if it’s at the end of all six miles, I’m going to ensure that she rides your ass about this until you break.”

Son of bitch.

“I… Fuck, I really don’t think I should tell you this.”

“Tell me anyway. That’d be so fun. Plus, it’d save you unnecessary torture from my scary wife.”

I roll my eyes.

“C’mon, Philips. Tell ole Papa Bear what’s got you in a tizzy.”

Dale is one of my closest friends, but he’s also annoying as fuck. I waver for ten seconds on whether I want to tell him what’s on my mind because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, it’ll have consequences.

Unfortunately, so will keeping it to myself.

“You know the woman I told you about?”

“The woman you told me about?” he repeats, craning his neck to meet my eyes. When I don’t respond, he furrows his brow for a long moment before his mouth forms a perfect circle. “Oh…the woman. Theonlywoman you talk about. Single mom, walks on water, is the key to your soul’s everlasting happiness? Yeah, I think I’ve heard of her.”

“Why do you have to be such an asshole?”

“It’s in my DNA. I’m sorry. But, seriously, you’ve been mooning over her for, what? A year?”

“Not quite.”

“It sure as hell feels like it,” he comments with a shit-eating grin. “I mean, I can’t deny there’s a part of me that misses the good old days when Noah Philips was hot on the prowl.”

“That was like five years ago.” Shortly after my father passed away, I went through a bit of a phase. Lots of bars. Lots of nightclubs. Lots of women. I’m not proud of any of it, but in hindsight, I’m certain it had a lot to do with grief and the stress that came with suddenly being the sole caregiver for my dear sister.

Thankfully, I grew the fuck up.

“Five years ago? That’s it?” Dale questions, but it’s not a question at all. “Damn. It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“You’re a shit friend, you know that?”

“I’m a good, very married friend who enjoyed living vicariously through your debauchery.”

My debauchery.I grimace. That’s definitely a time in my life I have no desire to repeat. Or think about, if I’m honest.

“Plus, you don’t have to hear my wife complaining about how you never go for any of the women she wants to set you up with,” he inserts and nudges me with his elbow. “Trust me, it’s a serious undertaking having to keep Kendall from doing something rash like putting you on Match.com.”

Truth be told, the women his wife tries to set me up with are exactly like her. Which, nothing against Kendall, but she’s not my type.

“I can’t help it that I’m particular,” I comment.

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