Page 20 of Cat's Outta the Bag

"How's my sweet girl?" My mom's voice crackles over my car speakers. Her connection must not be great; she and my dad are somewhere in Brazil at the moment.

"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad! I'm almost to the hospital, so I can't talk long." I'm actually about forty minutes from work, but they don't know that. I love my parents, but they love to chat, and I'm just not in the mood right now.

Jason's official statement was released two days ago, detailing our relationship as vaguely as possible while still sating the appetite of everyone looking for information. We made the request that my privacy be respected, and except for a few people at work asking if it's true, it seems like I'm being left alone. At least when I'm by myself. When I'm out with Jason, though? We aren't often left alone. Jason's spent every night with me since Sunday, but he left this morning for on-location filming. I won't see him until this upcoming Saturday. He's taking me to a charity auction as our first official outing. I am equal parts excited and terrified.

"No worries at all, my little turtle dove; your father and I have a snorkel lesson in a few minutes anyway. We just wanted to check-in. We've seen some photos online, and a few friends have sent us some articles with you in them… is there something you want to tell us?"

I stifle a groan. She’s using the tone of voice that says I know you’re keeping secrets; I know what they are, but I’m giving you a chance to fess up before I rip you a new one. I don't think I've heard this particular voice since I was thirteen. Well, as Jason said, the cat's out of the bag. No sense in pretending.

"Mom, don't give me that tone. I'm nearly thirty. I am allowed some privacy these days. That being said, the articles are true. Jason Adams and I are dating." Her squeals of delight cut me off. Oh boy. "Mom. Mom, please stop. Can I please finish?" I can hear my dad in the background telling her to calm down and let me continue. I love my dad. He stabilizes her crazy.

"Ok, honey, I'm sorry. I've just been worried about you since your father and I are globe-trotting, and you're in L.A. all alone. I just want you to be happy. Are you happy?" She sounds so hopeful. I can almost guarantee that if I saw her eyes right now, there would be babies in them. She covets grandmahood like no other.

"I am happy. Jason lives in my building, and we met because of Slinky, actually. When you're home, we'll tell you the story in depth. It's a bit too long for right now. Anyway, we started out just as friends, but we both felt a connection. And then the media caught wind of us, and we had to decide what we wanted. They were making things up, and we had to set the record straight. So, we're dating. And yes, before you ask, you can meet him when you're home next."

She's nearly incoherent as she expresses her delight. She doesn't care one bit about his celebrity status, although I bet my father wouldn't mind an autograph or two. No, what has my mom excited is the possibility of a wedding and babies, and of course, her daughter's happiness. My parents had both been previously married before they met. Divorcées wholly disillusioned by the idea of love. Neither planned on the other when my mom's nephew ended up in the hospital after a bad car accident. My father was the pediatric surgeon on-call who treated my cousin. My mother was the pesky science teacher aunt who knew just a little too much about human anatomy and kept questioning him about her nephew's prognosis and recovery.

My father maintains to this day that he found my mother's tenacity and intelligence intriguing. My mother claims that they hated each other. Regardless, they eventually gave in to their mutual attraction and married. They struggled for years to have a child, and I came around when my mom was forty-one. Which is why they are both already fully retired, and I've barely even started my career. My apartment is actually theirs. They bought it when I started medical school and begged me to 'take care of it' while they traveled. They pretend I'm doing them a favor, but really, they bought this place so that I could live near my school and eventually my place of residency for free. I'll let them pretend, though.

“Mom, Dad, I’m pulling into the hospital parking lot,” I’m really not. I have another twenty minutes, but they don’t need to know that. “I’ll talk to you soon, ya? Have fun snorkeling!”

“Ok, bye honey, have a good day at work. We love you!”

"Love you, sweetheart. Don't let any of the attendings push you around; you'll be one of them soon." I smile; that's my dad, behind my career 110 percent.

“Love you both, bye.” I quickly hang up before they can say anything else. From experience, our goodbyes can last several minutes.

My shift was uneventful medicine-wise but filled with getting peppered with questions at every moment by Allison and Tristan, who have the same shift as me. Allison kept sneaking information to Nique via text, which was the only way we could convince her to stay home and enjoy her day off. These three are nuts.

“Lex, we’re just glad you’ve found someone who treats you right. You spend so much time here or at your apartment, and we know it’s been a while since you got any from anything other than your vibrator.” Tristan hits me with a come on, you know I’m right, look. She and I managed to get our lunches scheduled together and are chatting in the cafeteria. I can almost hear Allison back in the ER fuming over the fact that she can't be here.

"Look, I get it. I'm obviously excited too. It's been a while since I've touched a penis beyond medical. But this is also incredibly new. I don't want to jinx us by talking like it's this big love story with a happy ending. We're having fun right now, and I don't want to pressure us." Tristan nods, hopefully in agreement. She's been the most level-headed about this new development in my life, so I'm hoping she'll calm down the rabid dogs that are Allison and Nique. Allison is already asking me if her kids can be my go-to babysitters when I pop out a few of my own. She's a little overzealous.

"I'll calm down Ally and Kiki for you, at least for now. But they'll want to have a total debrief soon. Especially if we keep seeing your picture in tabloid magazines." I groan. Yesterday morning, Jason and I got coffee before my shift, and some pap took our picture mid-kiss. It's been splashed all over the internet. We now have a couple name: Jaxis. Which first of all? Ew. Second of all? Sexist. Why does Jason's name get to go first? Couldn't they have picked something with our last names? Mastams? Fuck, no, that's not good either.

“Again, I get it. But the media has already blown this up so much that I can’t take pressure from my friends too. I just… I just want to enjoy this while it lasts. Ok?”

"I hear you, loud and clear. I'll wrangle the other two in today." She reaches over and gives my hand a comforting squeeze. We pass the rest of our lunchtime talking about Tristan's old as dirt dog, Maestro.

Later that night, I'm carrying in the take-out I picked up on my way home when I nearly trip over a box sitting outside my door. I smile; I don't even have to look at the note to know who it's from.

Once I get everything inside and have my food in front of me, I pull out the card to read. This note is typed, probably because it was printed by the courier company who brought the box, so I'm not deciphering his awful handwriting for once.

Lexi,

I got you something for our night at the auction. I hope you like it. Please call my assistant though, if you need something different. The designer had several options, but I thought this one was the most you. Fingers crossed I got it right.

I already miss you, see you Saturday.

Your main squeeze, Jason

P.S. You won’t hurt my feelings if this isn’t your style. I want you to feel beautiful, and if this isn’t right, try something else until you find the right one.

I suppress the lovestruck sigh that wants to escape my lips. That big goof bought me a dress. Before he left, I expressed a worry that I wouldn't have time to pick out a dress. I'm working ten-hour shifts every day, including the charity auction night. He's going to have to pick me up straight from the hospital. It seems he paid attention and took care of it for me. How in the hell is he this perfect?

I quickly slam the rest of my dinner, clean up and put away the leftovers, then bring the box into my bedroom to try on. I give an audible gasp when I open the box. I haven't even pulled it out, and already I know it's perfect.

The dress is to die for. Dark forest green velvet, with a high neck and long fitted sleeves. The skirt flows elegantly from the waist to the floor, with a slit that looks like it doesn't go too high. It's the back that makes it truly stunning, though. There's a strip of fabric at the back of the neck with two buttons, then nothing. The back is completely open until the small of my back.

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