Because she’d ask questions.
And I’d tell her, because I’d been carrying all of the stress for so long; I knew it was only a matter of time before I blurted everything out.
I eyed the clock in the corner. She was supposed to come in today by two.
It was two thirty.
I closed my eyes and waited for my office door to open, and when it didn’t, I went over to it and jerked it open myself, looking up and down the hall for any sign of her dark-brown hair or long legs.
Hanging my head, I was just getting ready to turn back around when I saw a flash of dark hair down the hall and then, she was walking toward me. Her face in a tight smile, her body hugged by a beautiful black wrap dress, and her chin held high.
So she was going to play it that way, huh?
Angry Austin was a thing to behold.
Fucking gorgeous.
Wild.
I had to bite my tongue to keep from charging toward her and tugging her into the closest exam room.
When she finally stopped in front of me, I pointed to my office and said, “We need to talk.”
She stiffened. Hell.
“Dr. Holloway?” Mia’s soft voice sounded behind me. “Your two thirty is ready for you.”
I gritted my teeth together. “Be right there.”
Austin’s eyebrows shot up. She crossed her arms. “Well, don’t keep the world waiting, Dr. Holloway.” I hated that the way she said my name affected me so much, physically and emotionally.
“Come on.” I didn’t give her a chance to argue. Besides, she needed stuff for her blog? She was in for a wild ride with this client.
Miranda had been a patient at the practice for about ten years, and every year, there was just one more thing she thought she needed done, no matter how many times any of us told her she didn’t.
I opened the door and swept in. “Miranda, this is Austin Rogers. She’s a local grad student shadowing me. Will it be alright for her to listen in on our appointment?”
Miranda smiled. Her face was shot to hell with fillers—ones that Troy had no doubt given her and charged an arm and a leg for since I refused to give her any more. “Of course, that’s lovely.”
Miranda was a gorgeous woman, but few of her parts were still natural, and with her pushing seventy, it worried me to put her under the knife again. Surgery became riskier and riskier the older the patient.
“So, what did you want to discuss?” I pulled out a seat.
Miranda wasn’t a typical appointment. She didn’t come in for a regular consult. Rather, she came in and asked me to basically look at her from head to toe and tell her where I thought adjustments should be made, and ever since I had first seen her two years ago and got the lowdown from Troy on her past, I would tell her, You’re perfect, go eat a cookie.
“A breast augmentation, maybe some Botox?” She actually blushed. “Remember a few weeks ago when I came in for a consult and . . .” She glanced at Austin, then back at me, her jet-black curly hair bouncing on her shoulders with the movements. “Troy said that I could benefit from a few things, and I just . . . I wanted a second opinion.”
I sighed. “You don’t need to worry about me telling him that you used me as a second opinion, and since I have Austin in here, there’s no need to grab one of my nurses. Why don’t you show me what you’re talking about, hmm?”
What followed was a painfully long hour filled by me convincing her she didn’t need anything done, and her arguing with me over what my partner had said.
“Listen.” I rubbed my tired eyes with the back of my hand. “All I’m saying is that surgically, your breasts don’t need the lift. If you need it emotionally in order to feel better, that’s an entirely different thing, alright?”
She left.
Thank God.
But that meant the next two appointments were going to run into each other.
Austin didn’t say anything as I breezed by her; she just followed, damn it. I was itching to talk to her, to explain myself, to do anything, and the worst part? Every time I made eye contact with her, her stare back was so hollow, I wanted to punch something.
Mia walked by us, handed Austin two granola bars and me a folder, and winked.
She deserved a raise.
I devoured the bar, knocked on the door, and introduced myself, and in that moment, knew I was absolutely, completely screwed.
Austin’s mom stared back at us wide-eyed and then blushed bright red. “Austin?”
“Mom?”
Oh look! Hell!
Chapter Twenty-Six
AUSTIN
My mom.
In Thatch’s office.
Why was my mom in Thatch’s office? Why was this happening? Had I just walked into an alternate universe, one where my mom used words like “nipple”?
I loved my mom, don’t get me wrong, but, this?
Did Dad know?
As far as I was concerned, she’d never even discussed a boob job or anything like it. Besides, her boobs, unlike mine, were basically perfect, like every part of her!
I closed my mouth and shared a horrified look with Thatch, who looked like he was ready to puke, though I wasn’t sure why. It was his job! And it wasn’t like he was touching his own mom’s boobs.
Too far, Austin. Too far.
“What are you doing here?” Mom and I said at the same time.
“Austin’s shadowing me for one of her classes,” Thatch answered, saving me from having to explain myself. I would not be thankful for the save. I would not let his kindness in this moment minimize his rejection this morning.
Spine straightening, I faced my mom. “So? Why are you here?”
“I um—” She looked panicked. “A—” The look she shared with Thatch wasn’t normal. “A breast implant.”
“Implants, you mean?” I corrected. “Not that Thatch can’t just stuff one for you, but I’m pretty sure Dad would have something to say about you being lopsided in pictures.”
Mom’s strained laugh wasn’t normal, not at all.
What the heck was going on?
Thatch grabbed her clipboard and then shielded it from my face, before pulling the top sheet off and shoving it into his front pocket. “So, from what I’ve read, you want to get small implants with a lift?”
Mom nodded.
“And this lift . . . is for . . . yourself? Your husband?”
Mom was silent and then said, “Of course. Both!”
“Right.” Thatch clenched his teeth. “Well, let’s see what we’re working with.”
Yeah, that wasn’t normally how he did things.
I frowned. Why was he being so unprofessional? Maybe because he knew my mom, or at least had met her a few times when we dated? Regardless, she swallowed and then nodded to me. “Do I just—take off my shirt?”
I smiled. “Mom, relax, Thatch is really good at what he does.” Thatch didn’t look at me. “I mean, you know, when he goes to work sober and decides not to fondle your breasts for a little too long because he forgets he’s supposed to be measuring things, or like that one time when he accidently gave someone a thripple.”
My mom knew I was kidding. She laughed.
Meanwhile Thatch looked like he was ready to strangle me. “Amazing you even know what a thripple is, since you can’t even say the word ‘nipple’ without blushing.”
“Nipple,” I blurted. “What’s so hard about that?” I emphasized the word “hard” and glanced down at his crotch, my eyebrows lifting a bit as if to say, Aw, poor baby can’t even get it up?
Mom let out a little squeak. “You know, I think I’ve changed my mind.”
“Stay.” I was still staring at Thatch. “Maybe he’ll give it to you for free. After all, he did technically sleep with one of his patients, right Thatch? Wouldn’t want that getting out.” I was bluffing, but I was pissed and probably didn’t realize how pissed I was until that moment.
“Bullshit!” he roared. “You aren’t even a real patient!”
“I signed papers!” I fired back.
“You know.” Mom grabbed her purse. “I think I’ll just wait until later. Austin, I’ll see you at home. Thatch.” She waved and then closed the door behind her.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Thatch yelled. “Do you realize that I can get fired for what you said?”
“Please!” I rolled my eyes. “It was my mom, and she wants a boob job about just as bad as she wants a third leg!”
“You’d be surprised why your mom wants what she wants.”
“Oh well, that’s cryptic, and you suddenly know so much about my family?”
His face paled again.
“Whatever, I’m leaving.” I stomped out of the exam room and nearly lost an arm as Thatch jerked me toward his office and slammed the door behind us.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
THATCH
“I didn’t leave you,” I said hoarsely. “So stop taking your anger out on everyone else! I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“But you did,” she argued. “I woke up alone!”
I ran my hands through my hair and tried to think of a way to explain without giving her all the details. “This morning, I didn’t leave the building. I wasn’t abandoning you or trying to get out of the awkward morning-after part where you wonder if you’re going to get more sex or if the person’s going to make a run for it.”
She sighed and looked down at the ground. “Well, aren’t you curious which it would have been?”
“Yes.” My body ached for hers.
“Too bad.” She marched over toward the door and placed her hand on the knob. “If you didn’t leave the building, where were you?”
“Does it really matter? I didn’t leave you.”
“It matters to the girl you slept with and then abandoned most of the night, yes.”
“I was with you until five o’clock this morning.”