Page 115 of Just (Fake) Married
“I will talk to the mayor,” I said.
“Good. Because that ribbon matters,” Marion said. “This whole stupid thing is resting on that ribbon!” She twirled away, her long dark hair swinging behind her, and I wondered if someday she might not be the person to replace Mayor Gallup.
“She works at the historical museum, runs the student festival committee and the high school paper?” Ethan asked me.
“That’s not even the half of it,” I laughed.
“Ambitious,” he muttered. “I like it.”
“Ambitious like you were. Like you are,” I corrected. “You probably miss it all the time, right?”
I was straightening my knife and fork on the paper napkin in front of me.
“Miss what?”
“Being the best at something. Operating on people.” I took a deep breath and asked the question I didn’t want to ask. That I managed to make it sound casual should get me nominated for an academy award. “Are you excited about that interview?”
Ethan was taken aback for a second. Almost like he’d forgotten there was an interview in Arizona.
“Excuse me, Dr. McGraw?” A woman came up to the table, looking embarrassed, but also like she wasn’t going to stop herself from approaching him.
“Mrs. Dunaway, how are you? How is Mark?” Ethan said, turning to her with a professional smile.
Getting to know him these past few months, it was obvious how different his smiles were.
The polite smile that he used for folks around town or patients.
The affectionate one he gave me any time he walked into Goods and Provisions at the end of the day.
The slightly evil one he gave me when I spread my legs wider, or I touched him the way he liked or sucked his…
I shook my head, getting rid of the thoughts. This wasn’t the time or place.
“I just wanted to thank you for the referral to Dr. Maneesh in Big Horn. We were able to get in last week and the medication has already helped Mark so much,” she laughed, but her eyes were filled with tears. She waved her hand around. “Anyway. I just wanted to thank you. Again.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Dunaway,” he said, and he squeezed her hand. She left the table and Amity arrived with our food.
Crispy chicken salad for me and the artery clogger for Ethan. He looked at it suspiciously, but after his first bite, his eyes lit up.
“Mac’s going to be so mad he didn’t score this,” he said, around a mouthful.
“Are you enjoying the clinic?” I asked, paying incredible attention to stabbing my lettuce with my fork. The question about the interview was forgotten and I wasn’t brave enough to bring it up again.
Like he couldn’t help himself, he took another bite. He chewed and swallowed before nodding. “I am. The people aregreat and the work is good. I’m helping patients and improving their quality of life, which is all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“But it must be boring compared to what you’re used to,” I said.
Yes. Say it’s boring. Say you can’t wait to get back to surgery.
He shrugged. “The stakes are different, that’s for sure. I never would have said my life was stressful before, or stressful in a way I couldn’t manage. But being on the other side of it, I can see how littlelifeI had in my life, you know? Outside of the OR.”
We finished our meal with only one more interruption. Ida Strunk coming by to ask Ethan why her knee hurt all the time. He told her to make an appointment at the clinic when it was convenient.
“But you could look at it now,” she said, lifting the edge of her old blue skirt.
“No,” he said firmly, then held out his hand for mine. I reached across the table and took it. “I’m eating dinner with my wife, now.”
See how he did that? The wife thing. It sounded so absolutely fucking real.
