“Dizzy dude, seriously, your breath stinks,” Willow grumbles, poking her head out, sitting up, and pulling Dizzy into her lap while petting him. “You need to get him some doggie breath mints,” she tells me, and I roll my eyes at her. “Did you get my soup?”
“I did. Do you want to eat in here, or do you feel like getting out of bed?”
“I should probably get up. I’ve been in bed all day. This flu is kicking my ass.” She tosses back the blanket and scoots to the edge of the bed with Dizzy still in her arms. “You should probably stay away from me so I don’t get you sick.”
“I never get sick,” I remind her. I can count on both my hands the number of times I’ve been sick in my life. It was a curse when we were younger, because I never had a reason to miss school and was always jealous when she and the rest of my siblings got to stay in bed all day and have Mom look after them.
“Right, I forgot you hogged all the good immune system stuff,” she responds, letting Dizzy go and standing.
“Whatever,” I laugh, watching her move slowly toward her bathroom.
“Wait.” She turns to look at me. “Didn’t you have your interview today?”
“I did.”
“And?” She raises a brow.
“I got the job.” I grin, watching her smile.
“I knew you’d get it. So when do you start?”
“In a few weeks. I need to give Dr. Brandsaw time to find a replacement.”
“Did he know you were looking elsewhere?”
“He knows my long-term goal is to work in the ER, but no, I didn’t tell him I would be looking for a job in a hospital once I passed my exam for my license.”
“You and your goals,” she mumbles, turning back toward the bathroom. “I’m happy for you!” she shouts through the partially closed door. “How happy were Mom and Dad when you told them?” she asks after I hear the toilet flush and the pipes turn on.
“Happy. Mom tried to talk me into moving in with them,” I say, walking across the room and leaning my shoulder against the doorjamb, watching while she washes her hands and face.
Meeting my gaze in the mirror, her eyes widen in horror. “Are you going to do that?”
“Do I appear mentally unstable to you?” I retort.
She grins and replies, “Right?”
I shake my head. “Anyway, now I need to find a house so I’m not driving two hours a day.”
“I love house shopping, I’ll help you search.”
“Thanks, I’m going to need it.” I smile as she grabs her robe and puts it on over her T-shirt and sweats.
“Did you tell Michelle to start searching?”
“Yes, and she said she should have some houses for me to go through over the next few days,” I say, following her back through the house and into the kitchen.
“Awesome. Forward the e-mail to me when you get it, and I’ll help you go through them and narrow the list down.”
“I’ll take you up on that offer,” I agree, handing her the soup and a spoon.
“Thanks.” She takes it with her to the living room. Following with my Lo Mein and a fork, I pad behind her, kicking off my flip-flops, and settle in with her on the couch, tucking my feet under me.
“What do you have to watch?” I ask as she flips on the TV.
“There are a few episodes of the newest season of 90 Day Fiancé recorded. Do you want to watch it?” she asks, flipping through her recorded list on her DVR.
“Duh.” I smile, taking a bite of my noodles as she presses start on the first episode.
“I love this show,” she says halfway through the episode, and I shake my head.
“I just feel bad for most of them,” I admit, watching some poor sap fawning over a woman who is obviously not even a little bit interested in him.
“Love makes you blind,” she mutters, and I nod in agreement. She’s right. Love does make you blind, and sometimes stupid. “At least they’re brave enough to try.”
“True,” I agree softly, wondering if I will ever be brave enough to go after love the way they are. I doubt I ever will. “I saw Harlen today,” I blurt, and she presses pause on the show then turns to look at me.
“You did?”
“When I was leaving the hospital after my interview, I saw him in the parking lot.”
“What happened? What did he say?”
“Nothing much. He asked what I was doing, so I told him about getting the job. And then he asked me to celebrate with him.”
“Celebrate?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Did you take him up on his offer?”
“No.” I shake my head.
“Why the hell not? I thought you said you think he’s hot.”
“He is hot. I just… I just couldn’t,” I admit, and she studies me closely then lets out a sigh.