Page 99 of Good Boy

“Thank you.”

“Nurse Hailey liked your observational work.” She’s skimming some notes on a page. “And then there’s your pharmacology score…” She flips the page.

I brace myself.

“Hmm.” She leans closer to the exam booklet.

I’m dying.

“The professor has awarded you a B-minus,” she finally reveals.

I let out a gasp of excitement.

“Oh, don’t be sad,” she says, misunderstanding my reaction. “The notes are good. Your essay was brief but succinct. Good grasp of the basics.”

“I’m not sad,” I say quickly. “That test was hard, and I was worried about my grade point average. I have the Harper scholarship to reapply for in the spring.”

Carol looks up. “Oh, honey. Don’t worry so much about that. We make everyone reapply because it gives us an out if someone isn’t putting in the effort. But it’s clear to me that you’re going to become a fine nurse.”

“It is?”

She smiles. “Of course. Nurse Hailey is very pleased with your work in the retirement home. She says you take a lot of care to put your patients at ease. You sing to them?”

Thank you, Dyson. “Sometimes.”

“She also said”—Carol flips back a page in my file—“that a pediatric cancer patient raved about your visit. Read this when you get a chance.” She hands over the whole folder. “That patient is having surgery soon, and Nurse Hailey thought the young woman would enjoy a visit from you.”

“Oh wow.” I take the file back, but I’m still hearing the echo of “B-minus” in my head. It’s better than I expected. I can hardly believe it.

“You’ve done well, Jessica. In fact, I expect the second trimester to feel easier for you.”

“Really?”

“Our returning students always have an adjustment period. They’re usually intimidated to be back in the classroom setting. But with comments like these, your prognosis is excellent.” She smiles. “Thank you for stopping by.”

I shake her hand eagerly and then scamper out of there like an eager puppy.

Chapter 30

Real Men Can Wear Pom-Poms

Blake

Three weeks later

Right after Jess and I got together, I was a little worried that I wouldn’t remember how to be somebody’s boyfriend. I mean, it’s been five years since I held that title, and there’s really no proof that I was any good at this shit before. When your girlfriend lies to your face about your fake baby, a guy has to take a step back and ask himself where he went so wrong.

Yet I had nothing to fear. Turns out I’m a fabulous boyfriend. Every time I pass a flower shop, I buy my Jessie a bouquet. I’ve taken her out to dinner at all the hot spots, including the ones where I have to drop my own name to get in.

Since it’s sort of embarrassing to drop your own name, I have a system. I call up pretending to be my own assistant. I don’t have an assistant, but these maître d’s don’t know that.

“Hi,” I say kind of breathlessly, as if I’m about to kick my own ass if the reservation doesn’t come through. “So sorry to call at the last minute, but Blake Riley is in town tonight, and he wants to take his girlfriend out to dinner somewhere awesome. He says you have the best sushi around.”

Most of the time, they just tell me to name the hour and they’ll be ready. Once in a while, I’ll get someone on the line who doesn’t know who Blake Riley is. I mean, who I am. It’s fucking confusing to impersonate yourself. Anyway, last week I had to make someone look me up on Wikipedia. There’s no way that chick was Canadian. I mean, please. But she got with the program, and Jess and I had a fabulous meal. What’s the use of being a little bit famous if you can’t drop three hundred bucks on a sushi dinner for your best girl?

The funny thing is I told Jess how I work my magic, and she didn’t even believe me.

“Seriously?” She slid me a sideways glance across the sofa. “They give you a table whenever you want? They have the hockey roster memorized?”

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