Weekend Fling with the Surgeon

“Did she want to?”

“Not to my knowledge. Clay didn’t break up with me because of Reva, Ryder. He left me to take a residency in Boston and I took one in Seattle. End of story.”

“How long were you together?”

“What does that matter?” She took a deep breath. “Seven years.”

All this time he’d thought it was Paul who was his greatest competition, Paul who he had to worry about being a rebound guy from. Was it actually someone he’d never heard her mention?

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Clay and I dated for seven years. We planned to both go to Seattle.” She gave a wry snort. “I didn’t even know he’d applied for a residency in Boston. My family worried about me going so far away when I was up

set about the breakup and wouldn’t know a soul. They didn’t understand that going to Seattle rescued me from their pity.”

“Loving you and wanting to help you through a breakup isn’t the same thing as pity.”

“How would you know, Ryder? I seriously doubt that anyone pities you. Do you want to know what my biggest issue is since coming home? That I’m freaking jealous of my cousin’s happiness. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad she’s marrying Jeremy, but what is wrong with me that I can’t have a good relationship, too?”

She was standing close to him, glaring up at him with eyes that flashed with anger and hurt.

He didn’t want to fight with her and searched for the right words to answer her questions.

Her questions that cut to his very core.

But she wasn’t finished, and perhaps hadn’t even wanted answers to her questions, but was just shooting words out at him like emotional arrows meant to pierce deep.

“Good for you on figuring out that not only was I dumped by Paul, but also by a man I’d given seven years of my life to thinking we’d someday marry, too.” Another self-deriding snort flared from her nostrils. “Obviously, I’m very dumpable.”

“You’re not very dumpable.”

“Right.” Seeming to deflate, she gestured toward the bathroom. “Don’t you need to change before bed?”

“You mean floor?”

Her gaze narrowed. “I’ll gladly take the floor.”

“No.” He regretted his stupid quip. “I don’t want you taking the floor.”

She didn’t answer, just stood waiting for him to go to the bathroom with her chin lifted.

Which gutted him.

What he wanted more than anything was to wrap his arms around McKenzie and wipe the exhausted, dejected look off her face.

“I’m sorry.”

Her chin hiked up a few more notches. “I don’t want or need your pity. I’m fine.”

Gathering his pajama pants, Ryder crossed the room to the bathroom door, paused a moment as he racked his brain for something to defuse the tension between them.

The last thing he wanted was to upset McKenzie, although he seemed to be doing a good job of doing just that.

“I really am sorry I jumped to conclusions, McKenzie. I wish you’d told me everything. It would have made things make sense.”

“No doubt, you’re right,” she surprised him by saying. “I doubt you’ve ever been dumped, so how could you possibly understand that I might not have wanted to admit to just how dumpable I am?”

He understood more than she thought. He’d been dumped, had his heart broken and probably even been the recipient of some of that pity she’d mentioned.

“Neither of them deserved you.”