Mainly clothes.
And shoes. Very heavy shoes, apparently.
It took us all day, our rental truck taking up a prime spot next to the sidewalk with the emergency lights flashing. By the end, we were all sweaty and tired—and starving.
Dex fell into the chair at the dining table. “If I don’t eat some pizza real soon, I’m going to die.”
I chuckled and grabbed my phone to order something for delivery.
“You’re a heart surgeon,” Daisy said. “I think if you eat pizza, you will die.”
He shrugged. “Eh, whatever.”
What I liked most about her brothers was their humility. You would never know they were two highly regarded experts in their field because they acted like they were nobody rather than somebody. “What do you guys want?”
“No anchovies,” Dex said. “Fucking gross…”
I ordered a couple pizzas then Derek volunteered to drive the truck back to the rental company.
We sat at the dining table together, drinking water as we rested after the long afternoon.
Dex was slumped over, his chin on his hand.
“You work out, so why are you so tired?” Daisy asked, not tired at all, despite the fact that she carried everything she picked up.
“Ugh, maybe because I have two kids?” Dex countered. “And then a wife I gotta please every night like it’s our first date.”
Daisy rolled her eyes then grabbed her phone to read a message. “My parents are downstairs. They want to join us.” She looked at me. “Is that cool?”
“They’re always welcome.” It had been a little tense after Dr. Hamilton threatened me, but that quickly passed, and we were colleagues and friends once more.
A moment later, they stepped out of the elevator and checked out the place.
Dex got to his feet and walked to his dad. “It’s a sick place, huh?”
Dr. Hamilton embraced his son with a hug and a pat on the back. “It is.” When he turned to me, there was the exact same affection in his eyes, the same warmth, and he walked up to me and embraced me the same way. Same squeeze. Same pat. Same look. Like I was a third son. “I know this place is big, but you’ve got room for all her stuff?”
“We’re about to find out.” I patted him on the back in return. “Pizza will be here soon.”
“Then we got here at the perfect time.” He stepped away.
Mrs. Hamilton came next, that motherly affection in her eyes. “You have a beautiful home.” She gave me a hug and a squeeze, her hand rubbing my back, accepting me like I was one of their own.
“Thank you.”
“How’s your closet?” she asked when she pulled away. “Because my daughter has a lot of shoes.”
I chuckled. “I only have a couple pairs, so she can have all the space.”
“You’re the perfect man for her.”
Daisy went to her dad next, and she was the one person he showed a different level of affection for. There was always a kiss on the temple, a one-armed hug with closed eyes, a pause, a breath, like he appreciated every moment he had with his daughter.
The elevator doors opened again, revealing Derek with a stack of pizza boxes. “Intercepted the pizza guy. Who’s hungry?”
“Oh, thank god.” Dex got out of his chair and took one of the boxes. “That shit smells good.”
We all gathered at the dining table together, eating pizza and drinking beer, and I sat with the Hamiltons like I was one of them. I hadn’t joined a family at the table in a long time, not during holidays and special occasions, and now it felt like I was. I felt like I belonged somewhere again.
We talked about the penthouse, how the move was, how Daisy decked her brother with a heavy box, all the while eating the pizza and leaving very little leftover. More beers were opened, and we relaxed.
Daisy left to use the bathroom, leaving me alone with her family.
But I felt like I was one of them whether she was in the room or not.
“Have you ever played poker with Daisy?” Dr. Hamilton asked.
“Nope,” I said. “I need to keep my money so I can feed her. She eats a lot of fries.”
“You said it…” Dex shook his head and kept eating.
“We spend most of our time together working, as lame as that sounds.” But it was nice, to have deep discussions about our patients and medicine. Every time one of us had a patient, they had two doctors because we worked together. If I were with another woman, finding something to talk about would be like pulling teeth. I could only talk about sports and TV shows for so long, not when I cared about my profession so much.
“It’s not lame,” Dr. Hamilton said. “Cleo and I do the same thing.”
“It’s true,” Cleo said. “After dinner, we’re both on the couch, our laptops in our laps.”