Page 66 of Near Miss

Stella swirls her wineglass against the table, liquid rising around the edges and trailing down, and smiles knowingly. “What are you doing here?”

“This is Grant’s favourite place.” Dropping into the seat beside Greer, I jerk my chin towards Nowak. I glance sideways at her and mouth,Hi.

One eyebrow rises and I think she smiles at me when she takes a sip of her wine.

“This ismyfavourite place.” Stella places a hand to her chest, chin tipping up in the same way I’ve seen her sister’s when she’s feeling petulant, emphasis on the “my,” like this shitty rooftop is something either of them could claim ownership of.

“Wanna arm wrestle for it?” Nowak grins, turning one of the chairs around and sitting backwards, resting his arm across the back.

Stella sits back in her chair, straightens her shoulders, and folds her arms across her chest like she’s considering it. One ringed finger taps against her jacket.

“This is Grant.” I point towards Nowak before he swipes everything off the table and does try to arm wrestle her, and I tip my head towards Pat. “This is Pat. We played together in college, actually.”

Greer glances between us, lips parted ever so slightly, lines of her Cupid’s bow defined in a way that makes me want to run my thumb along it, before she tips her chin up. “Did he bore you with facts about Napoleon, too?”

Pat shakes his head, confused. “No?”

I toss an arm around the back of her chair and tap her shoulder. “Those are just for you.”

“Lucky me.” She wrinkles her nose, eyes finding the sky.

But then she looks back at me, and I think it’s just us here.

“Okay.” Stella leans forward, snapping her fingers between us. “Obviously my sister has forgotten her manners in front of Mr.Gatorade, but I’m Stella, and this is Greer. Forgive her, she says she’s had a weird day.”

Greer inhales, eyes on me for a minute longer before she turns back to her sister.

She doesn’t say anything, and she stays quiet most of the night.

Stella and Nowak don’t shut up, so it’s not like anyone could get a word in edgewise anyway, but I don’t mind sitting in silence with her. With them.

Kind of like the me I used to be before—but I think I might prefer this version because he knows her.

At some point, they all get up with poorly veiled excuses about needing to request a song change, or in Stella’s case, claiming she needs to talk the bartender through the proper way to mix a Hugo spritz.

It’s just us here, and I’d have to glance sideways to see her, but I’m already looking because I’ve been staring all night.

I tap her shoulder again. “Why was your day weird?”

She turns to me, exhaling, like she’s considering what to say, chewing over her words the way her teeth find the inside of her cheek. “I was with my psychiatrist today, and he keeps asking me what I want to do when my fellowship is over. A lot of questions I don’t necessarily have the answers to.”

A small line of worry etches between her brows, and the corners of her lips turn down.

All that does is remind me how full they are—how she looks too beautiful to be sad.

“What typically happens after a fellowship?”

She shrugs. “You become an attending somewhere. In my case, I’d find a position here or somewhere else and I’d just ... keep taking from people.”

I reach up, brush my thumb along her cheek and shrug. “I think you give more than you take.”

She blinks up at me, eyes wide and bright under the hanging lights. She has a lot of secrets, and this seems like another one, so I let her keep it and press my thumb to her cheek before letting go. “I didn’t know you see a psychiatrist.”

Greer smiles ruefully. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“You could tell me, you know. Friends tell friends things.”

She tips her head and sets the wineglass on the table.

---