Page 28 of Dr. Intern

The next morning, bright light pours through my floor-to-ceiling windows, reminding me of my mom. Any time the rays stream through, I picture her and her vibrancy for life. Sometimes, they shine directly onto my face, warming me in the crisp fall air. Other times, they glimmer beside me, like a tangible presence of her, silently encouraging me from wherever she is now.

At first, I thought I was crazy for feeling like Mom was there with me, but one night over a glass of wine Cass said she experienced a similar thing when her brother died, only with a cardinal. It’s common, she said, especially in hospitals—loved ones witnessing some physical symbol which represents the departed’s soul. I’m not entirely sure about that. To me, it feels more like we’re all just trying to keep the memories of those we’ve lost alive in any way we can. Whatever it is, we do what we need to so that we can move forward with some semblance of peace after grief.

I stretch my arms above my head, groaning dramatically as I check social media, ignoring the ever-growing number on my green messages app. After aimlessly scrolling for a bit, I roll out of bed and pad across the warm carpet of my bedroom to the door. Turning the handle, I trudge across the living room and into the modern kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee.

But then I pause, confusion setting in as the smell of warm vanilla and hazelnut washes over me. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I glance around the kitchen, my gaze landing on a folded piece of paper next to a half-filled coffee pot.

Claire-

Went to the gym. Hope you like coffee.

Beau

P.S. I ordered groceries. If I’m not back by

10 am, can you bring them inside?

Absorbing the words, I can’t help but notice Beau’s scrawled, almost illegible handwriting, typical of a doctor. I read it multiple times before crumpling the paper and tossing it in the trash. Why would he bother leaving me a note? That seems like something someone courteous would do . . . and he certainly wasn’t courteous when he took me home and never tried to reach out to me again.

Memories of that night come flooding back to me and it feels like a lifetime ago, though it’s only been a little more than a month. Beau made me feel like for the first time, I was enough. The true version of myself was enough. Like I could let him see all of me and wouldn’t be asked to tone it down. So I guess it’s not a surprise that I never heard from him after that. Nobody wants a woman with no filter.And I don’t blame them.

Part of me wonders if Beau’s going to bring it up, or if we’re just going to dance around the topic until the day he moves out. For a moment at the memorial service, I thought he was going to say something, but he never did.I’m no stranger to confrontation, but I also refuse to be the one to break first in this game of nonchalance that we’re playing.

My mom used to say that I was the most stubborn person she knew, which is funny because her son is just as bad. Growing up was a battle of wills between my brother and me, the two of us always going at it while my sister watched from the sidelines. One time, when Parker was an intern, he told me that I couldn’t get into medical school if I tried.

So what did I do?

I spent my last semester of undergrad buried in books to prove him wrong. Sure, I missed out on a few fun nights with my friends, but the satisfaction of scoring higher than him on the MCAT still brings a smile to my face, so I’d say it was worth it.

Stepping onto the balcony, I’m hit by a surprisingly brisk October chill. The contrast between yesterday’s sundress weather and today’s cool breeze against my silk pajamas is stark. I could go in for a robe, but the cold is oddly refreshing, a reminder that I’m very much alive, not just going through the motions.

As one of the only penthouses in the building, the condo has plenty of outdoor space. The modern finishes of the interior continue to the patio with exposed concrete ceilings and sleek all-weather furniture. I have to admit, when Parker furnished this place, he did a great job. It would honestly be the perfect spot for a party, with plenty of room for people to stand and views of the city that are to die for. If I had to guess, I'd say that the entirety of the exterior space is well over a thousand square feet.

Though it’s not the tallest building on the block, our condo has unobstructed views of downtown facing one direction. The other is caged in by a massive condominium, which I’ve come to appreciate because it gives me the option to be alone or people-watch from the couch. This morning, I opt for the latter, a bit of entertainment to go with my morning coffee as I settle into the sectional.

There’s a couple that lives across the street who look to be around my age, and I’ve come to find them fascinating. I’ve watched them dance around the living room with wide grins on their faces, like they can’t get enough of each other. This morning, they’re eating breakfast at the counter, nuzzled close as they share a bowl of some sort of food. They just look so happy, and it makes my heart soar knowing that a love like that is possible.

“I didn’t take you for someone who liked to watch.” Beau’s voice booms from behind me, making me jump with surprise.

I turn to face my new roommate, who’s leaning casually on a concrete pillar a few feet away. His shirtless body, covered only in gray joggers and tennis shoes, glistens with the remnants of his workout, highlighting the contours of his well-defined chest.

Why does he have to be so hot?

It’s distracting and unfair.

Forcing my eyes to his, I muster the best glower I can. “And I didn’t take you for someone who bangs on their roommate’s door in the middle of the night.”

His lips twitch into a smirk as he takes a leisurely sip from his water bottle. “How else was I supposed to get your attention?”

“Maybe something with a little less brute force,” I suggest, struggling to keep my eyes away from the way his throat moves as he swallows. It’s absurd how sexy a well-defined Adam’s apple is, something I’ve never really considered until I noticed it on him.

Beau’s tongue clicks with amusement as his eyes lock with mine. “I don’t know if you know this, Claire,” he says, drawing out my name in a way that makes my blood stir. “But I’m the kind of guy who thrives on brute force.”

Oh, I know that all too well.

The way Beau took me into his arms and threw me onto the bed after our date gave that away—not that I’m complaining, because it was hot as hell. He acted like I weighed nothing at all, and I remember wondering what else he could do with that strength.

My eyes inadvertently drop to his thighs—thick and muscular, the size of tree trunks. They look like they could squat two of me without issue, something I imagine he just did at the gym based on how sweaty his body is. I try my hardest to avoid looking at his dick, but it’s just sitting there, outlined in the tight-fitting joggers like a completely separate and large appendage.

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