Page 44 of Doctor Neighbor

After we hang up, I stand there momentarily, letting the news sink in. It's not over yet, but it's a reprieve—a chance to set things right.

I look over at Maddie, still engrossed in her coloring. Then my eyes fall on my phone, and thoughts of Buster creep back in. But I push them aside. Right now, I need to focus on the cafe. On making sure everything is perfect for tomorrow.

I dive back into my cleaning with renewed energy, determined to leave no detail overlooked. Tomorrow's inspection won't know what hit it.

I'm elbow-deep in cleaning supplies when the bell above the door jingles. Popping up from behind the counter, I first check on Maddie, relieved to see her still absorbed in her coloring book. Then I turn to greet our visitor, and my heart flips a little.

It's Buster.

He stands there in his scrubs, looking unfairly handsome after what I'm sure was a long day at the hospital. His dark hair is slightly mussed as if he's run his hands through it a few times, and there's a hint of stubble along his jaw that makes my fingers itch to touch it.

I try to school my features into something resembling casual indifference, but inside, I’m practically vibrating with excitement. “Hey, you,” I say, aiming for nonchalance. “I wondered if you were alive." I don't want to scold him, but I don't think it is unfair for me to note that he left this morning without a word and never responded to my text.

Buster's eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, and I feel my resolve weakening. "Thought I'd grab a coffee and answer you in person on my way home," he says, his voice warm and rich. "I had a full day and haven't had a chance to stop. I was hoping to find you here this late."

I shrug, hyper-aware of how I must look—hair escaping my ponytail, clothes rumpled from cleaning. Can’t I look decent for just one of these meetings with him?

“Just doing some extra prep for tomorrow's inspection. Your cousin swooped in and saved the day. If all goes well tomorrow, I should be able to put this nightmare behind me."

He nods, understanding in his eyes. As he moves closer to the counter, I catch a whiff of his cologne mixed with the clean smell of the hospital. It's a heady combination that makes my pulse quicken.

"How about I make you that coffee?" I offer, desperate for something to do with my hands. "On the house."

"You don't have to do that," he starts, but I'm already reaching for a cup.

"I insist," I say, flashing him a smile. "Consider it a thank you for all your help. Double espresso, right?"

I haven't made his coffee in years, but he has never deviated from his order before. I wonder if that has held true.

"Wow, great memory," he commends me. "A double espresso would be amazing. Thanks, Coles."

Melting. He called me by my nickname. Oh, God, save me.

I busy myself with the espresso machine and can feel Buster's eyes on me. The air between us is charged, thick with unspoken words and lingering touches from last night. I want to ask him about this morning, about why he left without a word, but I bite my tongue. Now isn't the time or place.

Instead, I focus on making his coffee, sneaking glances at him when I think he isn't looking. Each time our eyes meet, I feel a little jolt of electricity. It's ridiculous how affected I am by his mere presence, but I can't seem to help myself.

Finishing up Buster's double espresso, I watch him saunter over to Maddie's table. My heart swells as he crouches beside her, his tall frame folding easily to meet her at eye level.

"What've you got there, Picasso?" he asks, his voice gentle.

Maddie looks up, her curls bouncing as she tilts her head. "My name is Madeline, silly."

"Oh, that's right! Silly, me."

"I'm drawing a unicorn," she declares proudly, brandishing her pink marker.

"A unicorn, huh? That's pretty special," Buster says, leaning in to get a better look. "Can you tell me about it?"

I smile involuntarily as I listen to Maddie launch into an elaborate explanation of her artwork. She's always been chatty, but there's something about the way Buster listens to her—with genuine interest and patience—that gives me all the feels.

"And this," Maddie says, pointing to a swirl of colors in the corner, "is where the unicorn lives. It's a magic forest."

"Wow," Buster replies, sounding suitably impressed. "You've really thought of everything. I love the colors you used for the magic forest."

I grab Buster's coffee and make my way over to them, not wanting to interrupt but also feeling a strange pull to be part of this moment.

"Here's your coffee," I say, holding out the cup.

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