Page 26 of The Grumpy Doc's Surprise Delivery

It’s a lesson she’s been trying to teach me for years, and one that I’ve never quite figured out.

If anyone needs looking after out of the two of us, it’s me. But that won’t stop my worrying. Sure, she can look after herself, but what if she fell? What if the baby starts coming early? What if there’s something I could be there to help her with and I miss the chance?

“I could always come back if you need me to,” I say. “You know you just have to ask, and I’d be back in a heartbeat.”

“And have you cut your vacation short? Absolutely not. This is the first vacation you’ve had in almost as long as we’ve been friends. The only way I would ask you to come back is if I start actively exploding.”

“Please don’t do that without me. I will never forgive myself if something happens and I’m not there.”

“You sound just like Tom,” Phoebe says, shaking her head fondly. It’s not a bad thing, though. Her husband looks at her like she’s the whole universe. He truly loves her, and I love to see it.

“I love you more than he does, though.” I stick my tongue out at her.

“I know you do, and that’s why I’m the luckiest woman in the world. Nobody else has a best friend as good to me as you are, or a husband who’s so perfect.”

“He is pretty perfect,” I agree, that tightness in my chest returning.

Almost like she’s reading my mind again, Phoebe says, “You’ll get there soon. Mark my words. The man of your dreams is out there, and he’s going to love you so, so much.”

What I don’t tell her is my concern that he’s closer than I think. That he might be next door, separated from me by a thin wall.

Liam isn’t a dream guy, exactly, but he’s like me in a way I’ve never seen before. I’m a personable girl, and I get on with most people. But I find it hard to really connect, to let people in. And I know I haven’t done that with Liam, but I almost feel like I could. Like I could tell him what was on my mind and he would listen without judgment.

That my drive to work wouldn’t get in the way of anything between us because he feels the same. He gets it.

That’s an intoxicating idea.

“You’d better work harder at finding him for me, then,” I say with a brightness that I don’t really feel.

Phoebe grins at me. “If I don’t get to say ‘I told you so’ about him at your wedding, then I’ll have failed.”

“You never fail.” I grin, and it’s true. She’s not perfect either, but when I need her, she’s always come through for me. She’s always been right in the end.

Could she be right about this too?

CHAPTER 15

LIAM

The next morning, once again, I arrive before Emma in the hotel lobby. It’s not a competition, but I am winning the count of who arrives first to our meetings.

Our meetings. It sounds so clinical when I think of it like that. Meetings. Hangouts? Dates? They’re definitely not that, even if I’m starting to think I might want them to be.

I stand in the corner waiting for her, my arms folded as I watch people drift in and out. All sorts of people go by, sun hats on their heads, men in vacation polos and women in long sundresses looking pretty.

As the minutes tick past, I glance at my watch and start to get concerned. Emma did remember that we’d agreed to meet today, didn’t she? I don’t know why I feel nervous that she might have forgotten. Maybe it’s coming back to that desire I’m trying to pretend I’m not having.

But I suppose she doesn’t owe me anything. After all, we barely know each other. All we are is two strangers, sharing a weird connection in a place we don’t know, surrounded by otherstrangers. As soon as this is over, we’ll be back to our normal lives, and this will fade into a vague memory of a pleasant week after a sucky course.

Finally, the elevator doors ding and Emma steps out. She’s wearing a different sundress today, white with a faint floral design, spaghetti straps at the shoulders and a skirt that brushes against her knees.

I breathe in a deep breath and try not to look at her, at the way her body curves beneath the fabric, at her ample bosom and wide hips. The dress fits to her body perfectly, and it makes her look more gorgeous than ever.

She looks around the lobby and smiles when she spots me. She walks over, and even though I know I’m not really her doctor, I notice her gait, how her limp looks a lot better today. It’s hard to turn that part of my brain off, no matter how hard I try.

“Hey,” she says, stopping a few paces ahead of me.

“Hey, you’re walking well.”

---