Page 7 of Dr. Intern

But, he’s some sort of doctor, and everything that I know about doctors tells me to run far, far away from them. They’re serious. And boring. And have no fun.

Though to be fair to him, last night was the most fun I’ve had with a guy in a long time . . . maybe even ever.

“Young lady, I hope you’re being careful,” Mom cautions, adjusting herself in bed. “I’m too young to become a grandmother.”

“Ugh Mom, gross,” I snap, feeling a little flustered. “First of all, I’ve been on birth control since I was sixteen so that isn’t even a concern. Second of all, we didn’t do that.”

But god, do I wish we did.

From the little time that we had together, I could tell that he knew his way around a female body. Unfortunately, we didn’t even get past second base, because he was urgently called into the hospital. He apologized profusely with that southern drawl of his, and dropped me at home, leaving me dripping for more . . . literally.

Cass eyes me with suspicion. “Are you going to see him again?”

“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t,” I reply nonchalantly, fiddling with a hangnail as I try to act casual.

He asked for my number when we pulled up to the condo, and it really seemed like he was going to call, but it’s been almost a full day without any word whatsoever. So I’ve decided that I hate him, and I will not think of his gorgeous stubbled jawline ever again. Or the stupidly sexy light brown waves covering the top of his stupidly smart head.

“Must you make everything so difficult?” my mother teases, a grin lighting up her face. Her eyes shine bright with affection, and I try to try to etch that image in my mind, knowing these moments are precious and finite.

Standing up, I move to lie next to her, cuddling into her warmth while Cassidy carefully adjusts the chemotherapy lines to accommodate me.

“Yes, and that’s why you love me.”

“Yes, my dear, but I love you for many other reasons too,” she replies, planting a kiss on my forehead. I cling to her, breathing in deeply so I can commit her scent to memory. “Let’s do something fun tomorrow. The three of us.”

Mom turns toward Cassidy, extending her hand to clasp hers. “You’re not working tomorrow, are you darling?”

“No, ma’am, and I think Parker is going golfing with his buddy.”

“God, I’m surprised he even has friends. He’s so serious all the time, I doubt he’s any fun to be around,” I say, half-joking, half-serious.

Cassidy laughs, squeezing my leg playfully. “That’s why he needs us in his life.”

Isn’t that the truth.

My older, yet absolutely not wiser, brother has become a completely different person since meeting Cassidy. He’s grown more patient, more kind, and more affectionate. He’s even started responding to our family group texts, something he used to dodge, claiming he was “too busy.”

“Claire Elizabeth,” Mom begins in her firm parental tone. “Please promise me to be nice to your brother when I’m no longer here to mediate.”

“But . . .”

“No buts, young lady, or I will haunt you from the grave,” she teases.

My heart sinks, and I feel a prickle of discomfort form in my throat. Like I want to argue, but I also want to sob at the same time. The reality of her words, playful as they may be, brings a poignant reminder of the inevitable.

Cassidy seems to sense my internal battle because she quickly changes the subject. “So what’s the plan? We can rewatch Vanderpump Rules starting at season one.”

The lump in my throat dissipates, replaced by a surge of excitement. “Ooooh yes, and then we can go shopping . . . but only use Parker’s credit card.”

Mom playfully swats me on the back of my head. “If we’re using anyone’s credit card, it’s mine,” she says, pulling my wild hair from my face. “But actually, I was thinking we’d go wedding dress shopping for you, my dear. I’d love to buy your dress.”

I spring upright, almost pulling my mom’s chemotherapy infusion out in the process. “Yes, Cass, oh my god! Please, please, please say yes.”

Cassidy’s face, usually pale, is flushed with surprise. “That’s way too generous, Mrs. Winters,” she protests, shaking her head. “I couldn’t possibly accept.”

“Nonsense,” Mom insists. “I already spoke with your mother. She’s working, but trusts our judgment completely.”

“Are you sure you can handle the outing?” Cass asks quietly, her eyes filled with worry.

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