Page 56 of The Doctor's Truth

“Of course. But Dr. Donovan can’t come back if he doesn’t leave.” I muss up Otto’s hair and press a kiss to the top of his head. He wiggles out of my grasp.

“G’night, Dr. Donovan.”

“Sweet dreams.”

Otto trudges to his bedroom. I walk Donovan out. He pulls on his coat and then hangs in the doorway, wrapping his scarf around him.

“You know you don’t have to come back tomorrow.”

“I know I don’t have to,” Donovan says. “I’d like to.”

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” I ask him. “I can make the couch.”

“I’m positive. I have to put the other child to bed.”

“Jason. Right.”

“He misses you, you know.”

“Yeah…well. Maybe he should’ve thought about that before he let my only child run off on his own.”

Donovan is bundled up now, but he doesn’t leave right away. Instead, he offers, “Just…throwing this out there. And then I’ll leave you alone for the night.”

He’s got his best-friend voice on. I cross my arms over my chest, bracing. “Alright…”

“Is it possible that you’re looking for reasons to hate Jason…because hating him is easier than telling him the truth?”

I button my lip. “It’s—”

“Complicated. I know.” He shrugs, then says, “Think about it.”

Then he steps forward and brushes his lips against my cheek. I feel the scrape of his stubble. The warmth of his breath.

“Good night, Kenzi,” he says, and his voice is a low murmur, a lion mountain’s purr.

“Night,” I say.

I lean against the doorway, hugging myself. The cold is sharp, and it slices through my clothes, but I stay outside until his car pulls out of the driveway and vanishes down the road.

I put Otto to bed, which takes no time at all since he’s already half-asleep. I quietly close his door behind him and go back downstairs.

The TV has gone into screensaver mode, slowly changing through you might like science fiction titles.

I click the remote, and it goes dark. I realize all at once that there’s nothing left to do. Normally, I’d use this time to do the dishes, but Donovan has already taken care of those. The dishwasher is humming quietly to itself. The counters are cleaned.

The house is taken care of. Otto is safe and sound. Pearl is asleep. And, for a minute, I’m all alone, with nothing to do.

The concept is foreign. I don’t know what to do with this stolen time I have. I’m too wired for bed just yet. I go into the kitchen and uncork the bottle of red Donovan left. There’s enough for a glass, so I help myself to it.

That’s when I remember—Donovan’s gift. It sits on the counter inconspicuously.

After all, Donovan did specify alone. The box is about the length of a pencil and neatly wrapped with silver wrapping paper. On the front of the box, he’s cut out a square of wrapping paper, folded it, and tapped it into the shape of a note which reads, For the woman who treasures her alone time.

A delicious sliver of childlike excitement runs through me.

My nails make quick work of the wrapping. It’s a small black box, and when I open it up, what’s inside makes me smile.

That bastard. What was I expecting? Jewelry? Something sweet?

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