Page 2 of Colby's Lost Binky

“It does. One of our regulars has an intense interest in tea. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to have someone to ramble back and forth with about the finer qualities of the leaves or roasting or whatever tea drinkers talk about.”

“They talk about tea, I imagine.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’d like to start soon.” I’d feel so much better once I made a bit of my own money.

“Sure.” She started to walk away but turned back and said, “Please let me make you a sandwich. I’m making one for myself anyway.”

“Yeah, as long as you let me help,” I replied, walking around her and to the kitchen to grab the bread.

Chapter Two

Barrister

My parents named me with a goal in mind. As a barrister who appeared before the higher courts in England, my great-grandfather had set in motion a family tradition that carried “across the pond” to the US with his son who founded a law firm so prestigious, not only Grandfather but also two of his partners had argued cases before the Supreme Court. Dad currently had one in the works, likely to add him to that list of attorneys.

Everyone expected I would grow up to join the firm and carry on our family’s heritage, and I did go to one year of law school before recognizing that my love of science and hatred of arguing were calling me in another direction. I might be the only physician in history whose family considered his work a disappointment, almost a betrayal.

So much so that they cut me off without a cent for tuition. Law school, they would have paid for. Medical school? Well, if I was going to get a “wild hair,” I had to pay for it myself. Which was why I had applied for the Health Professions Scholarship Program. After taking out a loan for my first semester of med school, I was reeling with the knowledge I’d be paying back my loans for the rest of my life—or close to it—when a recruiter explained the program to me. They paid my school expenses and gave me a stipend with the understanding I would serve my country for a while as a physician.

Seemed very fair to me. And as it turned out, I enjoyed the discipline of military life and after fulfilling my commitment remained in the reserves even after I hung up my shingle for private practice. I was in the military when I discovered how the caregiver of being a doctor and the authority of being an officer combined to make me a daddy.

“Doctor, your last patient of the day canceled. Do you want me to charge them?” my receptionist asked, standing in my open doorway.

“Who is it?” Technically it was our policy to bill if we didn’t get twenty-four hours’ notice, but in practice I rarely did.

“Mrs. Smithers. The babysitter canceled at the last minute.”

“And she didn’t want to bring the triplets with her.” A vision of what happened the last time flared before my eyes. “No, I won’t charge her for trying to save us from chaos.”

Virginia grinned. “That’s what I thought. I rescheduled her for next week.”

After my receptionist returned to her desk, I looked back down at the screen where I’d been making notes on a patient’s chart. A cancellation meant I could either stay here and do paperwork or take advantage of the time and maybe make a midweek visit to my club. Between the practice and my reserve duties, time was often at a premium. Many of those I’d gone to school with had chosen paths like research or working in a larger medical group where their hours were more controlled, but I’d had this fantasy of being an old-fashioned doctor who just took care of people since my first anatomy class. If it meant I had less free time…what was I doing with them anyway?

Shutting my laptop, I shoved it in its bag and headed for the door. “I’ll be reachable for any emergencies, Virginia,” I told her as I passed her station. I had to make special arrangements to get those calls because at my club, phones stayed at the front desk. In my profession, I was rarely allowed to be completely out of touch, but the attendant would send someone for me if I got an emergency text.

“Got it, Doctor.” She gave me a little wave. “It’s nice to see you out of here early for once.”

For once. For sure.

Before starting the car, I ordered a Caesar salad and order of cacio e pepe so it would be ready to pick up when I got into the neighborhood. The tiny restaurant around the corner from my place was a big favorite of mine, so their food would make my free evening even better. One canceled appointment was starting to feel like a celebration, making me doubly glad I didn’t charge Mrs. Smithers.

A few hours later, after dinner and a shower, I arrived at Chained. The front of the building gave little indication that it was a club whose membership spanned the wide variety of kinks practiced by consenting adults. I was considering re-upping for another four years when I came across the opportunity to buy into the practice of an elder physician who was looking for someone to take care of his patients when he retired—a practice located in the same town as Chained. Collared’s younger sister club. It seemed like a perfect opportunity, so I called the phone number listed—a landline for Doctor Edgar’s home—and began the next chapter of my life.

“There you are, my boy.” Stanley, the retired doctor whose practice I now operated, patted the couch next to him. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here.”

“Yeah, well, I keep busy with your mollycoddled patients.” His favorite way of describing them, not mine. “I am only here tonight because I had a last-minute cancellation.”

“Let me guess, Mr. Kendricks?”

I shook my head.

“Mrs. Smithers. I hope you charged her the fee.” He’d only been retired about nine months and loved giving me grief about working too hard and not being rigid about rules.

“Sure. Just like you did.” As in, never.

He chuckled and picked up his scotch. If he was drinking, he would not play. It was a rule he actually did make for himself and keep. He didn’t think the two mixed. “Those triplets. But seriously, you’re going to work yourself into the ground. Remember, you’re supposed to have me come in and free you up from time to time. I miss the office.”

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