Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Maybe after the intense weekend, she needed some space. We spent two days and nights together and maybe it was too much for her. I’ve felt like that in the past after spending a weekend with a woman. Not with Olivia though. It felt right and time went by too fast.
What if it’s not the same for her?
I wouldn’t be the first man to fall for a woman who doesn’t reciprocate his feelings. I’m falling really hard for her and I hope it’s the same for her otherwise, I’m fucked.
How did this even happen? How did she sneak so deeply into my heart? Become someone I can’t do without? A need to check on her comes over me, even though her apartment is only fifteen minutes away from the clinic. The smart thing would be to give her the space she obviously needs but I find myself texting her to ask if she’s okay.
I don’t feel like going to my empty apartment so I settle back to read some industry news online. I glance at my phone. It’s painfully quiet. There are not even any work-related messages coming in to give me hope that it might be Olivia. I stay in the office until it’s time to leave for dinner at my parents’.
I text Olivia again.
Hey beautiful. On my way to my parents' for dinner. Let me know if you’re okay.
As I’m slipping the phone into the pocket of my pants, it vibrates and I snatch it back.
The message is from Olivia.:
Have fun. Talk to you tomorrow.
I frown and try to read between the lines but I’ve never been good at that. Is she upset or just tired? I hate this shit of not knowing what’s going on. The message doesn’t sound like Olivia at all. My finger hovers over the keyboard. I want to ask if she’s okay but I want to look into her eyes when I do so. See for myself if she’s really okay.
I put my phone away and leave the office. I take a walk around the clinic before leaving, chatting to the staff and the patients. It takes longer than I expected and I’m late when I pull up to my parents’ home.
“Mr. Anderson,” Stephen says, opening the door. We exchange pleasantries and he gently hints that I’m late without saying it openly.
I hide a smile as I walk into the living room. My brothers are there as well but not their families. This is a business dinner and we try to separate the two.
“You’re late,” my mother snaps from her spot next to my father on the couch.
“I know. I went on my rounds and lost track of time,” I say. “Sorry.”
Her features relax into a smile. My mother will forgive anything as long as it benefits her beloved clinic. I kiss her cheek and shake my father’s hand. I pour myself a glass of chardonnay from the bottle resting in an ice bucket and sink into a chair.
“You get off easier than the rest of us when you’re late,” Dylan says.
“Yeah,” Alec says. “Mother would have torn into me.”
“Aren’t you too old to fight over who is the favorite?” Mother says in an amused tone. “Let’s have that work discussion now, then we can relax over dinner.”
“Good idea,” Dylan says, shifting to the edge of his seat. “I’ll explain since it’s my idea.”
I sit back as Dylan gives his pitch. He does a better job of it than the first time he ambushed me in the clinic cafeteria. My parents’ faces give nothing away though as they listen.
When he’s done, Dylan turns to me. “What are your thoughts, Jace, since you’ve had a lot of time to mull it over.” He’s putting me in a spot. Asshole.
“It’s a good idea…on paper.” I explain my reservations then it’s Alec’s turn to give his thoughts.
The problem with my brothers is that most of the time they do not exchange their doctor hats with their businessman hats. The discussion grows animated but never disrespectful and we talk about it until my stomach growls with hunger.
My father comes up with an idea. He proposes that we rent out space downtown, one, to be more accessible to the people we’re trying to reach and help, and two, to have a separate free clinic. We can even run it several times a week. Then we can refer the surgeries and more complicated cases to the main clinic.
It’s the best idea so far but I’m still not enthusiastic. “It doesn’t solve the problem of our staff. We’ll need to retain the same number of staff for our paying patients even on the days there’s a free clinic.”
“I don’t know,” Dylan says. “It sounds as if we’re separating our wealthy patients from—”
“Not wealthy,” I say and pause for effect. “Our paying clients. They’re the reason why we’re where we are.”