Page 3 of Paging Dr. Summers

I smiled to myself, thinking of her rambling. No. I shook my head, grabbed my backpack, and flew out of the car, trying to escape the image of Brooke Crawford’s gorgeous green eyes. It reminded me of how foolishly I’d behaved, fleeing her presence and asking a colleague to finish examining her.

When she’d suggested I be her summer fling, something in me snapped. The last thing I was looking for was a fling, or any type of relationship, for that matter. Yet ... for a split second, I entertained the thought of a night out with the beautiful, albeit strange, woman. I wasn’t ready for that. I couldn’t do that to Erica. She deserved better.

It was a moment of weakness. The loneliness was just getting to me.

I jogged up the stone pathway to the deck stairs, needing a distraction. I would pull the car into the garage later. Maybe my niece would want to shoot some hoops or roast some apples over the firepit on the deck. She always had some funny story to tell me.

As I walked up the stairs, memories flooded back of sitting on these very steps with Dad. It was there he’d imparted some of life’s greatest lessons—the importance of being a person of my word and that success in life required unwavering integrity. Dad had practicedwhat he’d preached. He’d started as a janitor at a car dealership and worked his way up until he owned that dealership and five others. He’d worked hard, but he believed in playing just as hard. It was why my parents brought us to the lake every summer.

It was on this very deck that I’d told Dad I wanted to be a doctor when I grew up. He’d made me believe I could achieve it. I often wished he were still around to comfort me and tell me there would come a day when I wouldn’t roll over in bed, aching to see Erica wrapped up in our comforter. Her beautiful face and fiery red hair—that matched her personality—barely peeking out. The woman was the biggest cover stealer around.

“Uncle Logan!” Sophie popped her cute head out of the double glass doors. She looked so much like her Italian father, with her olive skin and long dark wavy hair. But her sweet countenance and bright-blue eyes were all Eden’s.

It was a shame Luca had turned out to be such a prick. Eden had barred me from saying it out loud, at least in Sophie’s presence. But any man who cheated on his wife—with her best friend, no less—deserved to be called that and more. However, I understood Eden’s desire to be a good coparent with theprick. So, if ever anyone mentioned Luca’s name around Sophie, I would clench my fists and plaster on a fake smile. It wasn’t like I hadn’t told the guy off in private. I now regretted asking him to be the best man at my wedding five years earlier.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Her presence had me feeling more settled and able to shake off any thoughts of Brooke Crawford.

Sophie swung the doors open the rest of the way, smiling widely, showing off her new set of braces. “I made you dinner.”

I ruffled her hair on my way into the house. “You didn’t need to do that.” Not to say I didn’t appreciate it. Sophie, like her mom, was already an excellent cook. Maybe someday she would be famous for it, just like Eden.

“It’s a new recipe I made up myself,” she said proudly. “A creamy risotto with fresh vegetables.”

“Sounds terrific.” The last thing I’d eaten was a veggie wrap around noon, and that was hours ago.

Sophie sidled up to me as we walked through the open-concepthouse with high ceilings and exposed wooden beams. It was mostly barren of furniture. Most ofourthings were still in storage. The thought of walking around the house and seeing constant reminders of my life with Erica sounded like torture.

I didn’t need the flashbacks of happy days walking through every furniture store in Seattle, picking out the perfect pieces together, playfully arguing about function versus fashion. I was more about comfort, while Erica was always about style. It was why we’d ended up with chaises instead of couches in our great room. Anything to make her smile, even if it was more comfortable to sit on the floor than on those half-chair, half-couch monstrosities.

For now, Eden had placed her couch and a couple of armchairs in the great room.

I put my arm around Sophie and gave her a squeeze. I knew she missed her father. While he’d been a louse of a husband, he was, by all accounts, a good dad. He hadn’t wanted Eden and Sophie to move across the country. But after his betrayal and rush to remarry, Eden thought it was best to leave her upstate New York home, and Luca had acquiesced. I was trying to do what I could to fill the void in Sophie’s life, but I knew from personal experience that there was no filling the hole a father left.

“I really appreciate you making me dinner. After we eat, what do you say we shoot some hoops or maybe roast some apples around the firepit?”

Sophie leaned more into me. “That’s sounds fun, but I’m helping Mom tonight.”

The kitchen and Eden came into view. Eden was busy preparing ingredients on the butcher block counters.

“Are you filming some new content tonight?” Social media had made Eden famous. She and her ex had been dance partners. They were so good, they’d won the Open World Swing Dance Championships twice.

In a stroke of genius, Eden had decided to combine her passions for dancing and food and started a social media account called A Dance in the Kitchen. She and Luca would do one dance number before Eden would bake or cook something. Then she would feed bitesto Luca, and he would praise Eden about how amazing her latest creation tasted.

People ate it up. They’d racked up millions of followers across several social media channels. It had shocked their fans when they announced their divorce. But thankfully for Eden, she was able to keep the rights to A Dance in the Kitchen, and her fan base rallied around her. Now, she just did solo dances before whipping up something in the kitchen. And instead of feeding Luca, she took a bite herself and gave sage advice about how you should keep dancing through life, even if it’s by yourself. She was more popular than ever.

Eden adjusted her stand mixer and gave me a mischievous smile. “Not tonight,” she sang. “I’m giving a baking lesson to your new neighbor for the summer. She’s a fan of mine,” Eden rightfully bragged. People often recognized her.

I guessed the little stone cabin, as we always called it, had finally found a tenant, at least for the summer. An older couple, the Kesslers, used to live there. When I was in high school, I used to help Mr. Kessler shovel his drive in the winter.

Sophie pranced over to her mom. “She’s so fun andpretty,” she emphasized. “She played Frisbee with me on the beach today, even though she’s really bad at it.”

Eden and Sophie both laughed like they were sharing an inside joke.

“Okay. I’ll grab my dinner and leave you ladies to it.”

“Don’t you want to meet your new neighbor?” Eden was quick to ask. Too quick.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Not particularly.”

---