Page 54 of Dr. Intern

I feel myself blush at the thought of Beau. We’ve barely seen each other since the night I nearly blacked out at the Mexican restaurant. I thought it would be awkward after our conversation, and I was perfectly prepared to act like nothing happened, but Beau made sure I was still on board the moment he returned home from work. It’s like confrontation and emotional discussions don’t make him feel queasy inside like they do for me.

Unfortunately, Beau’s been at the hospital late every day since, and by the time he makes it home, he’s exhausted. I assume this must be a super busy time for them because one night we were chatting, and he got surprisingly quiet. When I looked over, he had fallen asleep on the couch with his mouth hanging open, as if he had started to reply but couldn’t fight sleep any longer. I covered him up with a blanket and lay on the opposite side of the sectional, unable to hide the massive smile on my face at how adorable he looked.

“Would you believe it if I said that Beau is the best roommate I’ve ever had?” I gush, thinking of the little gestures he performs daily. It’s astonishing, really, how he manages to find the time and energy to show he cares in such meaningful ways. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like he’s real.

“I’m sure your mother would be rolling around in her grave if she heard you say that,” Cass jokes, breaking a cookie in half and plopping it in her mouth.

Oh shit—sorry, Mom! You were a great roomie too!

“Dinner will be here in five,” her dad calls from the kitchen.

According to Cass, her family doesn’t cook on Thanksgiving because her mom is usually working all morning. While I miss the extravagant meals that my mom used to make on the holiday, this is way more relaxing. We haven’t moved from the couch all day, and it’s been heavenly.

As the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of dinner, Cassidy and I exchange looks of guilt for our indulgent morning. We may have had a few too many cookies and ruined our appetites. Cass hops up, helping her dad with the food while I stretch and join her mom in the kitchen.

Surprisingly, Cassidy and her mom look nothing alike. Mrs. Callaway has short, dark hair and brown eyes that contrast sharply with Cassidy’s light features. Her mom is wearing black wide-leg dress pants and a formal blouse. She looks like she’s conducting a business meeting, not eating Thanksgiving dinner with her family.

Once we all gather around the dining table, a mix of aromas fills the air—spicy, savory, sweet. It’s like they ordered from every restaurant in the area because there’s an assortment of every variety of food imaginable, and my stomach growls with anticipation.

“We like leftovers,” her mom says, likely noticing my expression as she takes her seat at the head of the table. “Though, it seems this year we overdid it a bit.”

She shoots a pointed look at her husband, who just shrugs and says, “I didn’t know how hungry our extra guest would be. Come on you two, dig in.”

I smile at Cassidy’s dad who shoots me a wink and passes me a pair of tongs.

“Cassidy, you’ll never guess who I ran into at Publix this week,” her mom says as she starts to fill her plate. Before Cassidy can answer, her mom adds, “Holly Southerland.”

I have no idea who this person is, so I sit quietly and munch on a chicken tender.

“Did you now?” Cass replies warily, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair like she’s preparing for battle.

“I did,” her mom confirms, looking proud of herself. “I was in the city visiting a client so I ran in to grab a sandwich, and she was right there in the Boar’s Head line. Can you believe that?”

Cassidy’s hazel eyes narrow. “Well, they do live in Buckhead, Mother.”

“Check your tone,” Mrs. Callaway says, and I stifle a grin. She and Mom would have gotten along. “Anyway, she said that you two went to lunch last week.”

“We did.”

“And she said her son joined you. I love that you keep in contact with them. How’s Wes doing? I hear he’s completing a fellowship in Chicago.”

Cassidy shifts uncomfortably in her chair, but her eyes stay locked on her mom. “He’s fine.”

I knew the name was familiar. Weston is Cassidy’s ex-boyfriend and award-winning jerk of the century. She shared a little bit about what happened last year, and it sounded like a complete shit show. From what I understand, Parker still hates Weston even though he used to be his best friend. I thought Cass hated him too, but apparently, she’s forgiven him.

This is starting to sound like the plot of a reality TV show. Suddenly feeling more invested, I spin in my chair to face my sister-in-law and lean in, not wanting to miss a word of this juicy drama.

“I know Carter would be so proud that you two still have a friendship,” her mom continues, smiling as she takes a sip of wine.

But it sounds like Parker wouldn’t.

I look curiously at Cassidy, a devilish smirk on my face with the realization that there’s no way in hell my brother knows about this.

“So, I’m going to assume that they’re invited to the wedding?” Mrs. Callaway asks casually. “We need to finalize the guest list soon for Save the Dates.”

Cassidy glares at me, as if she can hear my thoughts and is silently pleading with me to keep my lips zipped. “Mr. and Mrs. Southerland are welcome, of course. I know you guys are friends.”

“We never get to see them anymore, but we set up dinner for the four of us next weekend at the club,” Cassidy’s mom replies, gesturing to her husband who lets out an exaggerated groan.

---