Page 90 of Catnip, Claws, and Chaos

“Of course, Dr. Price,” she says stiffly, backing out. “I'll do my best.”

I run a hand over my face, shame washing over me. This isn't her fault. She's doing her job and doing it damn well. It's not her fault that whenever I look at reception, I expect to see wild dark hair and a smile that lights up the room.

I slump back in my chair, the weight of Emily's absence crushing me. The clinic is running better than ever. Everyappointment is on time. Every chart is filed correctly. Every prescription is spelled correctly.

And it's killing me. I miss the chaos.

I pull out my phone, staring at her number. My thumb hovers over the call button. What would I even say if she answered? I'm sorry? Come back?

Pathetic.

Deep down, I know it was the best thing. A clean cut before things got messier.

And yet, that night, I find myself standing in her doorway again, staring at the empty bed, the closet with its hangers all neatly aligned but nothing on them. Even her scent is fading now.

I don't sleep much anymore.

“Coming!”I call, dragging my feet toward the front door. I have no idea who it can be, so early on a Saturday morning. “What?” I bark, flinging the door open.

“Young man, don’t think I can’t pull your ear just because you’ve turned into a wall of muscle. I can and I will,” Mary scolds me. She pushes her arthritic finger into my chest and glares at me through the thick lenses of her glasses.

I feel like cursing, rolling my eyes, snorting. Instead, I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Mary, I’m just tired. I had to work late last night, and I washopingI could sleep in a little this morning without being woken up at the crack of dawn.”

“It’s seven o’clock,” she says righteously.

“Yes, and it’s a Saturday morning.”

She looks at me quizzically, as if she doesn’t see what the problem is.

To hell with it. I need coffee. I can’t deal with Mrs. Potter without a drop of caffeine in my system. Leaving the door open, I turn and head toward the kitchen.

I hear Mrs. Potter muttering behind me, no doubt reproving me for my bad manners. I roll my eyes, grateful she can’t see my face, and go to the espresso machine. The click of her Mary Janes on the floor sounds behind me.

“Logan,” she says.

“Yes, Mary?” I continue to pour coffee into my cup without turning to look at her or the man who’s with her.

“There’s a problem with the guest room bathroom,” she says. “The one Emily was staying in.”

My jaw clenches, and I clutch my cup so tightly between my hands, I can almost hear the china cracking. “Okay.”

“Paul’s here to fix it,” she goes on.

I turn to look at Paul. Up until now, I’ve never paid the slightest attention to the man, though his blue uniform and the bag he’s holding should have tipped me off to the fact that he’s a plumber.

“Fine.” I turn my back on the two intruders. “Let me know if you need anything, Paul. And please try to be quick about it. I’d really love to go back to bed.”

“Logan!” Mrs. Potter scolds.

At the same moment, Paul speaks. “Of course, Mr. Price, I’ll do it as fast as I can.”

Mary sighs. “Follow me, please. I’ll show you the bathroom we’re talking about.”

I hear them walk away and finally drop onto one of the kitchen stools. Running a hand through my hair, I close my eyes. I really am tired.

As soon as Paul and Mary disappear into the guest room, Bob sticks his head out of my room. I guess he’s been waiting untilno one else was here to join me. The big guy’s been grumpy and unsociable ever since Emily left. Not that I can blame him.

“How’s it going, buddy?” I say to him, extending a hand to pet him. Bob whips his head toward me and shows his teeth in a growl. I quickly withdraw my hand and don’t try to get any closer to him. He plods over to the corner where his water bowl is, slurps up a little, and leaves the kitchen. Even my dog’s mad at me.

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