Me: You’re right. I need to reconsider this arrangement.
Nerdy Nurse: If that wasn’t your dick, I’m in the same boat.
Me: You only wanted me for what I was packing?
Nerdy Nurse: It’s a dating app. Did you think I wanted to marry you?
Me: Most women do, yes.
Nerdy Nurse: Patient coming in. Try not to miss me.
Me: K.
Nerdy Nurse: Bye, Potassium.
/Nerdy Nurse offline
Four
Mariah
“I love how you just make yourself at home.” Dropping my bag on the sofa as I go by, I kick off my shoes. “You could at least make me dinner after a hard day’s work.”
My best friend, Whitney, glances at me over her shoulder. “I don’t cook. I’ll order something for you though.”
“I thought you worked today?”
“I thought I did too. I hate this floating schedule crap,” she sighs, peering up at me with a set of big, blue eyes. “I actually showed up at the hospital to find out it’s not my day. Who does that?”
“You.”
She turns back to the book she was reading. Filling a glass with ice, I find a Coke hidden behind a head of broccoli. “So, why are you here?”
“Your house is closer to the hospital than mine and I needed a nap.”
Looking at her over the brim of the glass, I wait for more of an explanation. I don’t get one. In fact, she doesn’t even glance up at me.
Whitney operates on her own wavelength. I stopped trying to figure her out years ago. She’s smart, fun, and as loyal as they come, but you have to let some things go where she’s concerned. She doesn’t always make sense.
“How was school today?” she asks, closing the paperback. “I feel like my mother when I say that.”
“That’s sweet. My mother used to say, ‘What did you do today, Mariah, so I can compare it to what your sister did and tell you how you fail to measure up.’”
Whitney scowls. “Well, your mother is an asshole and I’m not even sorry for saying that.”
Just the mere mention of the woman who brought me into the world sends my spirits sinking. “Let’s not go there,” I sigh, rubbing my temples. “I came home with a headache anyway. The last hour study hall doesn’t comprehend the idea of being quiet in a library.”
“I remember being that age. Friday nights held so much promise.” She picks up her drink and follows me into the living room. “It’s so sad, isn’t it?” Her bottom lip protrudes almost to her chin. “I used to have such a social life. Who would’ve thought I would be the one sitting around bored on a Friday night. I’m slowly turning into … you.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Curling up on the sofa, I watch her nestle into the chair across from me.
“You’re a librarian. It is a bad thing,” she laughs.
“It’s the best job ever.”
“Sure it is. That’s why you’re practically a hermit. Every time I come over, I expect to be met with a flock of cats.”
“A flock of cats?” I laugh. “That’s not even a thing. What’s wrong with cats, anyway?”
“Nothing is wrong with one cat. One cat is perfectly normal. Two cats are a sign something’s amiss. If you have two cats, you spend way too much time alone. Three cats? That’s a flock and that means you have no people skills and will spend the rest of your life on your hairball-filled couch surrounded by fictional people.”
Lifting a brow, I ponder this for her amusement. “There are gadgets to clean hairballs these days. I really can’t see anything wrong with this scenario. It’s kind of appealing.”
“No, it’s not,” she says, placing her phone on the table next to a framed photo of us at Lake Michigan a few summers ago. “It’s unhealthy.”
“It’s healthier than going into public and ending up losing my sanity from all the people-ing!”
Biting her lip, her eyes narrow ever-so-slightly. It’s just enough of a warning.
Sighing, I close my eyes and wait for it. She doesn’t make me wait long.
“Speaking of people …” she says, her voice trailing off.
“No.”
“But he’s so cute!” Her tone is almost giddy. “He’s a resident, which means he’s super smart and will be making big bucks soon.”
“Whit. No.”
“Why? A date won’t kill you.”
“It happens. I watch those shows on television. Blind dates aren’t what they used to be, pal.”
Rolling her eyes, she leans forward. “It’s not a blind date. I know him. Kind of, but that’s not the point. The point is it kills me to see you wasting your life away in this little house. You’re young, Mare. Gorgeous. You have a great personality when you’re not being a dick on purpose.”
“Gee, thanks,” I giggle.
She smiles, but it fades slowly. “I want you to live your best life. Jonah could be your best life. Or a one-night stand …”