Page 94 of Both Sides Now

Calli’s heavy sigh echoes in my ear. “Right. I should have realized a man like you doesn’t wait long for willing and able suitors. Any woman would be lucky to have you. I know I was.”

What the hell?

“Wait, wait, wait. I’m not dating anyone. I’m at a medical conference in Chicago. Dinner is tricky when I’m a thousand miles away.”

“Oh, thank God,” she breathes, her husky laugh cutting through any last cords holding back my affection. “I was terrified I lost my chance.”

Tell me about it.

“I told you I would give you time. The last two weeks sucked, but I knew it was what you needed.”

“What I need isyou. Can I see you when you get back?”

At this point, I’m tempted to hop a plane and fly straight back to her waiting arms.

I almost mention just that, but the pain from a few weeks ago reminds me thatthistime, I need to exercise caution.

My heart is not a punching bag, not matter how much I love the boxer.

“Sure. I’ll be home on Friday.”

“Can’t wait. I miss you, Keegan.” Her voice is thick with emotion, but I worry those feelings will change on a dime again.

The distance and time apart are good for us both.

Let her miss me. Let her realize what she wants, on her own terms. Let her fight for us, or at least help me slay the demons threatening to tear us apart.

“Miss you, too.”

“Don’t have too much fun. I remember your tale of drunken karaoke.”

“Ah yes, those were the days,” I tease, earning a surprised guffaw from Calli.

“You better not,” she warns.

I chuckle, running a hand over my jaw. It feels good to laugh. “Damn it, there goes my extracurricular activities for the week. I suppose you’re worth it though, so I’ll behave.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want to have to implement some discipline when you return.”

Well, shit. That got my dick’s attention. “Hmm. I don’t know. Maybe I should engage in some shady behavior, then.”

“I don’t recommend it, gorgeous. Save all your shady behavior for me,” she giggles, blowing a kiss into the phone before hanging up.

“Glad to seeyou’re in a better mood,” my colleague, Dr. Miner, comments at breakfast the following morning.

“I had a headache.”

“I get those too, particularly around certain people. Trust me, you didn’t miss much. The blowhard bragged on himself for the next ninety minutes. I had a migraine myself by the time I begged off.”

With a chuckle, I settle into a seat next to him. “I knew there were perks to turning in early.”

“I can ply you with small talk, but I need to know. Haveyou given any further thought to what we discussed a few weeks ago?”

The weekend in Mystic was singular in many ways.

Dr. Miner phoned me that first morning with a job opportunity. Opportunity is an understatement. It’s my dream gig, the one I’ve worked tirelessly toward for the last decade.

At the time, he wasn’t positive it would come to fruition, but he wanted to inform me that I was at the top of a very short list.

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