Page 120 of That Reunited Feeling

“Hell, no!” She says it like I’m the most dense person alive. “Then he would have had great footage of you yelling at him and it would have been everywhere. It’s better that you did nothing. And I told him it wasn’t you, so he has nothing.”

“Apart from video of a very angry blue doctor.”

“Yes. Not that marketable, I don’t think. Anyway, as I was saying. You’re here for Hannah, right?”

Words suddenly become troublesome again.

Maybe it’s the shock of almost being detained by two sheds with hands terrifyingly close to whatever those weapons were, then being verbally battered by the rat-a-tat-tat of Camera Dude’s questions, or maybe it’s because I’m now just moments away from seeing Hannah, but I’m suddenly paralyzed with fear she won’t actually want me.

“I’ll take that blank stare as a yes,” Rachel says. “But she’s not here.”

“Oh, shit.” The bad news revives my ability to speak. “Has she moved out?”

“Nope. At work.”

“Oh, wow.” Okay, that’s a good thing. Progress. “She got a job. Amazing. Where is it? I’ll go there.”

Rachel folds her arms and thinks. “I’m not sure she’d want me to tell you that.”

Oh, good. Now we are playing the same game as Jude.

“If you don’t, I’ll just sit on the curb here outside your house, attracting law enforcement and celebrity stalkers from across the city, and your new neighbors will start to think maybe you funded this place by being, well, you know, not actually surgeons.” I make air quotes.

“Still got the wisest ass on the block, huh?” She smiles. “Honestly, she’d kill me if I told you.”

I crouch down by my bag and plant my arse on the edge of the curb.

“You can’t sit there, or I’ll have to run you over to get out for my yoga class.” She looks at her watch. “Which I am now late for.”

“Tell me where Hannah works, and I’ll be gone in a flash.”

“I can’t betray her.”

“Guess I’m looking at getting a cold, hard butt for a couple hours then.”

Rachel steps back and reassesses the space. “Actually, I could probably squeeze by you if I took the little Fiat.”

She starts to head back toward the gates.

“How’s Dylan?” I call after her.

“Dylan?” She stops and looks at me.

“Yeah. How’s he doing? It’s a big move. And that’s a delicate age. It can be tough.”

“He’s doing okay.” Her voice is soft and caring. “Thank you for asking.”

“I know what it’s like to be a kid and have a big upheaval in your life. And not know how to deal with it other than by being an arsehole.”

She smiles and nods. “Yeah, just ask Mr. Joshi.”

“Is he having guitar lessons?”

Rachel looks puzzled. “Dylan?”

“Yeah. I’d started to teach him. He liked it. I thought it would be good for him.”

Rachel’s head drops back, and she looks up at the irritatingly blue sky as she lets out a long groan.

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