Page 29 of Worst in Show

This is mortifying.

A knock on the door saves us all, and the doctor strides in. “How are we doing, Mr. Morton?” she asks. “I’m the orthopedic surgeon who’ll be fixing you up today.”

“Did you hear that, Leo? She’ll be ‘fixing me up.’” Harvey winks.

“Pop, that is not appropriate.” I cross my arms in front of me before apologizing to the doctor. “It’s the painkillers. He’s usually not like this.”

She smiles. “No worries. It means they’re working. And trust me, I’ve heard worse.”

“So what happens next?”

“I take it you two are next of kin?”

“I am,” I say. “I’m his granddaughter.”

The doctor looks at Leo as if expecting him to justify his presence as well, but instead he backs away a step and turns to me. “Hey, how about I wait for you outside? Let you guys talk.”

I nod. “If you don’t mind.”

Once he’s gone, I focus all my attention on Harvey and the doctor. There are surgery details, recovery times, and assurances.

“Will you wait here?” the doctor asks. “It might be a while.”

“No, she needs to get back to the dogs,” Harvey says. “You can call her, right doc?”

“Of course.”

“Are you sure?” I ask Harvey.

“As sure as sun follows rain.”

I guess that settles it.

I take my leave and head to the waiting area, expecting to see Leo there but finding it empty. I walk through the sliding doors, and there he is on a bench, his head in his hands as if he got terrible news himself right now.

He startles when I say his name. “Sorry, I was just…” He stands. “How’s Harvey? Everything okay?”

Did he get bad news? “I could ask you the same. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Um no, I…” He inhales deeply. “It’s just been a while since I was in a hospital. Ready to go?” A million more unspoken words filter through his expression, but I don’t pry.

“Ready.”

I stare out the side window until we’re back on the main road. It feels wrong to go back to the store without Harvey, without knowing what they’re doing to him right now.

“He’s going to be all right,” Leo says when I’ve almost managed to forget he’s next to me. “Like new.”

As if he’s reading my thoughts.

It’s annoying and presumptuous, and I want to be mad at him for it, but instead a lump forms in my throat. “Uh-huh,” I manage.

“I’m serious. The doctors know what they’re doing.”

I stay turned away from him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do that. I appreciate you driving me and everything, but you don’t have to pretend like we’re friends.”

There’s a long pause. “O-kay then.”

When I look, his mouth is set tight. Like I’ve hurt him. “What do you expect? For me to simply ignore the fact that you’re trying to shut down our store?”

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