Page 20 of The Doctor's Simple Life

“Sienna, look,” says Gramma. “It’s Reece from work.”

“I can see that,” I say dryly. “Hello.”

“Hey, Sienna. How are you?”

“Good. How are you?”

Gramma’s eyes are burning into us as we have the world’s least inspiring conversation, and I feel my face flushing.

If Reece notices my discomfort, he doesn’t show it. “I just came in for a couple of things when I saw Mrs. Hale and thought I’d come over and see how she was doing.”

“There haven’t been any more seizures,” I say quickly, wanting him to go away.

“I know,” he says with a wry grin. “Peggy’s been telling me herself.”

Gramma reaches out to flap her hand at me as if telling me to shush. “It’s sweet of him to check in. He’s fitting right in with our community here. This is exactly the sort of service we expect”.

He flushes a little at that. I wonder how much it hurts him to be told that he’s fitting in well in the sort of place he despises.

I say nothing to try and stop myself from agreeing with Gramma. I don’t want to say anything nice about him right now, but the worst part is I kind of agree with her. He’s rude, self-centered and annoying, but when he actually puts in the effort, he has it in him to be a great doctor at Silverbell General.

Not that he would ever want to hear that.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re both doing well,” he says.

“You too, honey,” says Gramma. “It’s great to see you settling in with us so well here.”

“Anyway,” says Reece, folding his arms as if to protect himself from any awkward feelings, “It was good to bump into you. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay. See you,” I say.

He turns around and grabs his own cart, and I breathe a silent sigh of relief. I really don’t feel like coping with Reece right now.

But of course, my grandmother always knows best.

“Oh, honey,” she says, glancing into his cart and stopping him. “That can’t be all you’re getting.”

A pinkness washes over his high cheekbones. “No,” he says, his shoulders tensing defensively. “I was going to get some more cheese as well.”

Gramma fixes him with the kind of look that says complete disapproval, and he sags under the weight of it. I glance in and see half a dozen microwave meals, four bags of chips, a huge handful of other snacks, and some fake cheese. I bite my lip to stop myself from saying anything.

I haven’t seen anyone eat like this since I was a student. This man’s not getting a single vegetable. He’s a doctor. Surely he should know better than this.

He should know better than anyone the benefits of eating well and living a healthy life, even if he can’t cook for himself. I can’t understand why he’s only getting the cheapest meals possible too. It’s not like he’s struggling with his wages.

I guess this is a guy whose salary lets him eat out without thinking about it. I guess he must go to all the best restaurants in Miami. And I guess nothing here in Silverbell is good enough for him.

“Come to dinner tonight,” says Gramma out of the blue. “With us. At my house. I’ll cook.”

All the blood drains from my face. What is she doing?

“My heart won’t rest easy until I know you’ve had a proper meal in you. It’s the least I can do to repay you for coming over the other night.”

“I can’t. I don’t want to take up your precious time,” says Reece, and I shoot him a look to try and signal to him that arguing with Gramma when her mind is made up is basically impossible, and this is the kind of face she makes when her mind is made up.

“I insist,” says Gramma. “I won’t hear a single word except yes.”

“Well…” says Reece, floundering.

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