Page 62 of Where She Belongs
Just got to my car. Back to reality.
Gabe:
Reality has its perks. For one, I’m in it.
I laugh out loud at his response, startling a passing traveler. This playful flirtation is new territory for us—one of many boundaries we’re redefining in the aftermath of Hawaii.
Andrea:
True. Though reality also includes a full clinic schedule tomorrow and 143 unread emails.
Gabe:
Want company tonight? I could drive down, help you unpack. Or just provide moral support for the email assault.
The offer is tempting—so tempting that I’m momentarily taken aback by the intensity of my desire to say yes. To see him, touch him, pick up where we left off in that suite overlooking the Pacific. But the practical voice in my head—the one that’s guided me through medical school and residency, through single motherhood and clinic establishment, through marriage and divorce—urges caution.
Andrea:
Rain check? I’m exhausted and need to regroup before tomorrow. But this weekend?
His response takes a moment longer than usual, and I wonder if I’ve disappointed him.
Gabe:
This weekend it is. I’ll bring dinner Friday. Rest up, Dr. Martin. Your adoring patients await.
The relief I feel at his understanding is tempered by a nagging sense of familiarity—how many times have I prioritized practical considerations over personal desires? How many moments with Tristy, with friends, even with Simon in the early years, have I sacrificed on the altar of responsibility?
But this is different, I tell myself as I start the car. This is pacing, not avoidance. This is ensuring our relationship begins with sustainability rather than burning too hot, too fast. This is the sensible approach.
So why does it feel like I’m already falling into old patterns?
“Dr. Martin! You’re back!”
Norma’s enthusiastic greeting cuts through my mental fog as I enter the clinic Wednesday morning, travel mug clutched like a lifeline after a night of restless sleep. The jet lag, combined with hours spent answering urgent emails, has left me feeling less than refreshed for my first day back.
“I am,” I confirm, accepting the stack of folders she hands me. “What disasters await?”
“Nothing you can’t handle,” she assures me with a knowing smile. “Though there have been a lot of questions about you and… Dr. Vasquez.”
I freeze halfway through taking a sip of coffee. “Questions?”
Norma raises an eyebrow. “That Instagram post of you two at the wedding went viral in certain medical circles. Dr. Lopez from Presbyterian called three times asking if it’s true you’re dating ‘that gorgeous doctor from Taos.’”
Heat rises to my cheeks as I realize I’ve underestimated the social media reach of Tristy’s post. In the insular world of Hawaii, focused on wedding activities and family obligations, it was easy to forget how news travels through professional networks.
“What did you tell her?” I ask, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.
“That your personal life is your business,” Norma says primly. “Though I may have mentioned that you looked very happy in the photos.”
“Thank you, I think,” I mutter, heading toward my office with Norma following, clearly not finished with the conversation.
“So it is true?” she presses, lowering her voice as we pass the nurse’s station. “You and Dr. Vasquez are...”
“Together,” I confirm after a moment’s hesitation. “It’s new, but yes.”
Her face lights up with genuine pleasure. “Well, it’s about time! The way that man looked at you whenever he visited the clinic—like you hung the moon and stars. We’ve had a betting pool going for years.”
