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“Marilyn Monroe.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t know.”
“There’s an interview where she talks about it. So how do you manage with your job? Aren’t you constantly required to talk to strangers?”
“Yes, but my sister does that part. New business, bookings, she handles that side of things.” She slid onto the chair next to him, her fingers grasping her wineglass. She didn’t trust her own powers of speech, and it was an awful feeling. She wasn’t sure if alcohol would make it worse or better. “I live life in my comfort zone.”
“That wasn’t how it seemed the other night when I saw you in the emergency room.”
“That was me trying to leave my comfort zone. You saw how it turned out.” Oh what the heck. She took a gulp of wine and felt it slide into her veins. The words were loose and flowing again. She could almost pretend she’d imagined what had happened. Almost, but not quite. It had happened. And it could happen again. Maybe on one level she’d always known that, but she’d gotten complacent. But maybe complacency was a good thing. Worrying, anxiety, made it worse. “I think we’d both agree I’m a work in progress.”
“But you went on a date with a stranger. You didn’t stammer?”
She put her glass down. “He didn’t give me a chance to talk. But I did manage about four short sentences, which was more than I managed on the date before him.”
His eyes gleamed and he leaned forward to top up her wine. “Sounds as if you’ve had some thrilling dates.”
“The best.” She found herself smiling too. She also found herself wishing someone like Ethan had been her blind date, which made no sense at all because less than half an hour earlier she’d left the apartment and braved snow rather than stay in the same space as him. “I’m done with it now.”
“You’ve finished dating? Aren’t you a little young to give up on love?”
Why was he asking her so many questions?
He’d shown more interest in her than the three men she’d dated put together.
“I’m not giving up on love. I’m giving up on internet dating.” She hadn’t thought about it until that moment, but she realized she meant it. After the last guy, she’d never believe anything she read about anyone again. She needed to be able to look into their eyes and judge whether they seemed honest or not. “Which probably means no more dating at all. It’s not easy meeting people.”
“That’s true.”
She hadn’t expected him to agree with her. “You must meet people all the time at the hospital.”
“Not really. I don’t date patients, obviously, and most of my colleagues are too busy to even think about connecting socially, even if we could get past the awkwardness of dating someone you see every day.”
She’d always assumed that dating was easy for everyone else. That she was the only one who found the whole thing daunting and overwhelming.
Harriet wondered if she still counted as a patient, and then wondered why she was even thinking that.
She’d assumed someone like him would be married with two cute kids.
It hadn’t occurred to her he’d be single.
What was wrong with the world?
Unsettled by her own thought processes she made a joke. “Maybe you should try internet dating. Put ‘doctor’ down and you’ll be inundated. Especially when people realize you actually are a doctor.”
“I’m nobody’s idea of a dream date, Harriet.”
He would have been her dream date.
Where had that thought come from? Flustered, she took a sip of her wine, reminding herself that he didn’t like dogs. She could never be with anyone who didn’t like dogs, even if he was a good listener and had eyes that made her think of blue skies and long summer days.
“You’re too hard on yourself. Shrek would seem like a dream date compared to the last three guys I met.”
“I’ve never been compared to Shrek before. I may need therapy to get over that one.”
At least he had a sense of humor. “You said you lost a patient. How do you handle that?”
The worst thing she handled in her working day was misbehaving dogs and inclement weather.
“Tonight I handled it by losing my temper with you.” His tone was dry, his words self-deprecating. “Normally? I deal with it by filing it away as part of the job. It’s not something I usually talk about. I can’t believe I did. I assume it was a pathetic attempt on my part to induce a pity response that might lead to forgiveness.”
She loved his honesty. Her respect for him grew. “People don’t expect doctors to show their feelings. Which must make it hard. You’re supposed to be caring, but still detached. How does that even work?”
“Sometimes it doesn’t. Generally it’s easier in the emergency room. The people I see are strangers. I don’t have the connection with them that doctors in other specialties might. My father works in primary care, and there are some families he has been seeing for thirty years. When he loses a patient he grieves right along with the family. I learned to handle my feelings a long time ago. Most doctors do. You learn to put up emotional boundaries.”
“But putting up boundaries doesn’t mean you’re not feeling it, does it? When you walked through that door earlier you were on edge. Irritable and upset. That’s why you lost your temper over nothing.”
“I’m willing to concede that I was wrong in my response to the situation, but I will not admit that the destruction of my apartment was nothing.”
Harriet finished her wine. “I’m sitting here because you told me you had lost a patient. If you’re now telling me that it had no effect on you, I’m going to walk through that door and I’ll be taking Madi with me.”
“My sister was so wrong about you. She told me you were gentle. She never mentioned you were ruthless and capable of blackmail.” He reached to top up her glass again but she shook her head and covered the glass with her fingers.
“No more. It’s cold out there. I don’t want to slip and bang my head on the way home. I especially don’t want to be taken to the emergency room.”
He put the bottle down. “Because now you know I work there.”
“No, because you’re not on duty tonight.” She spoke without thinking and saw the surprise flicker across his face. She was surprised too. No more wine, Harriet. “I mean because you’re obviously a good doctor. No other reason. And I’m only ruthless when it comes to protecting animals.”
He looked at her for a moment and then stood up. “I’ll order the food. Is there anything you don’t eat?”
“No, but if you tell me what there is in your fridge I can cook it. I’m a good cook.”
“In that case you are definitely going to cook for me one day, but tonight I was thinking more of takeout.” He pulled open a drawer and spread a selection of flyers in front of her. “There’s a Thai restaurant round the corner where the food is so good it makes you want to move to the Far East. Or we could go with pizza if you prefer.”
“Thai sounds delicious, but the menu looks baffling.” And the prices high. Their business was doing well, but there had been enough years where they’d scraped by to make Harriet balk at the idea of spending hard-earned dollars on food she could produce herself.
“If you don’t have any allergies, you can leave it with me.” He picked up the phone. The fact that he ordered without a pause and without once consulting the menu told her that he frequently made the same call.
She remembered seeing him in action in the hospital and sensed he was used to giving orders. Also to knowing what he was doing.
“Isn’t every day bad where you work?”
“Some are worse than others. Today was particularly difficult, and there were complicating circumstances.”
“You see a lot of things.” Things she probably couldn’t imagine, least of all deal with on a daily basis.
“The people who come through the department are often under a tremendous amount of stress. They’re anxious and scared, and that can translate into aggression. People want things done right away, and when that doesn’t happen they’re not happy.”
They’re not happy. “That’s an understatement, right?”
He gave a half smile. “Yes. And we prioritize patients according to medical need, not the order that they walk into the department. That’s always a tough one for people to understand.”
“They think their injury is bad, but you’re seeing someone far worse.” She nodded. “You must handle a lot of abuse.”
“ER workers are an easy target.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out forks. “I pride myself in being skilled at diffusing anger. I spend all day managing other people’s emotions. It seems as if when I walked through that door tonight I forgot to manage my own.”
“It must have been the final straw coming home to the mess Madi created.”
He closed the drawer. “Tell me honestly—is this what I’m going to expect every day? Break the bad news to me gently.”
Harriet glanced at Madi, who was happily gnawing her toy, oblivious to the chaos she’d caused. “She seems settled now. Hopefully it will continue. What time do you leave for work tomorrow?”
Until that moment she hadn’t made up her mind that she was going to go through with this, but their short conversation had revealed a lot about him.
Despite what had happened earlier, she suspected it took a lot to make him lose control of his emotions. He was the sort who would keep his head under pressure. She wondered what exactly had happened with the patient he’d lost. What had driven him so close to the edge? What was different about this day?
“Tomorrow? 6:00 a.m.”
“You need to take her out before you leave. You don’t need to walk her, just take her out to pee. Then I’ll come at nine.” Harriet pulled out her phone and typed a note for herself. “What time will you be home?”
“Difficult to say.” He checked his schedule on his phone. “In theory, five p.m. But it could be anytime. Do I seriously have to take her out if you’re coming at nine?”
“If you don’t want her to wet your oak floor and ruin it, then yes. I don’t want to leave Madi on her own for more than a few hours, so instead of nine I’ll come at nine thirty, and then I’ll come back at two thirty. That should work.”
He spread his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Whatever you say. You’re the expert.”
She wondered if he was making fun of her but his expression was deadly serious. “I’ll take her out for some fresh air and exercise, always assuming the snow isn’t too deep, and then I’ll spend time with her here.”
“And you can do that? How many other dogs do you walk in the day?”
“It varies. Tomorrow I have a pretty busy day, but I can pass at least two of my walks on to another dog walker, so that’s what I’ll do. Until she’s happier, Madi is my priority. I can bring some paperwork and do it in your apartment, if you’re comfortable with that.”
“Anything! I owe you in a big way. Thank you.”
“I’m not—”
“I know.” He interrupted her with a wry smile. “You’re not doing it for me. You’re doing it for the dog.”
“Madi. I’m doing it for Madi.”
“You’re as sensitive as my sister. She is a dog. Why can’t I call her that?”
“Probably for the same reason people don’t call you ‘the human.’ It’s not overly friendly.”
The food arrived and Ethan spread the cartons across the kitchen island and handed her a plate.
“Help yourself. And tell me more about your business.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m interested.”
“What do you want to know? We walk dogs. We cover the whole of the East Side of Manhattan.” And she was proud of that. Proud of the way they’d built their business from nothing.
“Presumably you don’t do it all by yourself. You mentioned a sister—”
“Fliss. We’re twins. We run it together.”
“And you employ dog walkers?” He spooned noodles onto her plate. “How does that work?”
“They’re often college students. Sometimes people who are retired. We don’t really care about the background. The important thing is that they love dogs and are responsible. Our business is built on our ability to deliver a top quality service to our clients.”
“So how many dogs do you walk at a time?”
“We only offer solo walks. It’s a personal service. Easier to meet the needs of the dog that way.”
“And you take them to the park?”
“It varies.” She twisted the noodles onto her fork. “Sometimes we take them to the park, but that doesn’t work for all dogs. Sometimes we just take them for walks around the neighborhood.”
“So tomorrow—do I have to bathe Madi when I come in after a walk? Clean out her paws? Because I have no idea how to do that.”
He was a guy who spent his days handling life-threatening situations and he was thrown by a little dog. “Just wipe her down. I’ll do the rest when I arrive.”
“And you will arrive? You’re not going to leave me in the lurch to punish me for my earlier behavior?”
“I wouldn’t do that to Madi.”
He pulled a face. “So you’re doing it because you’re afraid to leave her in my care. I shouted at you, and now you think I’m beyond hope as a dog owner, and possibly even as a human being. Can you forgive me?”
She tried not to smile. “I don’t know, Dr. Black. I have yet to make up my mind about you. I’ll let you know when I do.”
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_de90e50b-69e9-54ca-8ea2-9a94d659bf3a)
HARRIET RODE THE SUBWAY, and then walked the rest of the way to her apartment. She was desperate to whip out her phone and search for “recurrence of stammering,” but it was freezing cold and she told herself that impatience wasn’t a decent trade-off for possible frostbite.
Anxious to do some research, her heart sank when she arrived home to find Daniel waiting outside her apartment.
Normally she would have been pleased to see her brother, but he was one of the few people who was likely to be able to see beneath the fake smile and want to know what had happened.
And she didn’t want to talk about it.
She wanted to deal with this herself, preferably by opening her laptop and doing research. She needed answers.
Why had it come back? Did the fact that it had come back briefly mean that it might come back again?
When? Under what circumstances?
