Page 67 of Where She Belongs
“And tomorrow,” he murmurs, smiling. “And all the days after that.”
NINETEEN
The drivefrom Albuquerque to Taos winds through familiar landscapes—piñon-dotted hills giving way to the vast Rio Grande Valley before rising into the embrace of the Sangre de Cristo mountains.
I’ve made this journey countless times over the years, but today it feels different. The road stretches ahead, carrying me back to my clinic and patients, but my mind remains three hours behind with Andrea.
It’s been less than twelve hours since I left her apartment, the warmth of her embrace still lingering on my skin. Less than a day since I drove down to Albuquerque the moment I heard she was back from Hawaii, unable to wait another moment to see her after our time on the island.
“You drove three hours just to see me?” she’d asked when she opened her door, surprise and pleasure mingling in her expression.
“I would have driven longer,” I’d admitted, pulling her into my arms, breathing in the scent of her—tropical shampoo and that indefinable essence that is uniquely Andrea.
Two days we’d spent together, stealing precious hours between her clinic responsibilities and patient obligations, rediscovering each other in the familiar setting of her Albuquerque home rather than an island paradise. Finding with relief and wonder that what bloomed between us in Hawaii wasn’t merely vacation magic but something real and enduring.
Even now, as the miles accumulate between us, I can feel the phantom weight of her head on my chest as we drifted to sleep, can hear the quiet murmur of her voice as she talked about her family’s last days in Hawaii, can taste the coffee she brewed for me this morning before dawn broke and reality intruded.
My phone buzzes on the passenger seat, Daniel’s name lighting up the screen. I connect it through the car’s Bluetooth.
“Perfect timing,” I say by way of greeting. “Just passing the Welcome to Taos sign.”
“Good drive?” Daniel asks, straight to business as always.
“As good as a three-hour stretch can be,” I reply, stifling a yawn. Despite the tiredness from my quick trip to Albuquerque and back, a pleasant energy hums through me—the aftereffects of time with Andrea, perhaps, or the quiet certainty that what we’ve found together is worth every mile of highway between us.
“I’ll need you at the office tomorrow morning,” Daniel says. “The IRS called.”
Something in his tone makes me grip the steering wheel tighter. “Problem with the application?”
“The opposite, actually. They want to schedule the final review.”
“That’s good news,” I say, relief washing through me. The nonprofit status for the clinic’s community health wing has been in bureaucratic limbo for months.
“It gets better,” Daniel continues. “They’ve offered us a face-to-face meeting in DC. Apparently, your application caught the attention of someone high up who’s interested in our hybrid model.”
I navigate around a slow-moving truck before responding. “When’s the meeting?”
“That’s the catch. Monday morning. Which means flying out Sunday night at the latest.”
I do the mental calculations. It’s Thursday now. Andrea and I have barely had forty-eight hours together since Hawaii, and now I’ll be gone again.
“I’ll have the plane ready,” Daniel says, correctly interpreting my silence. “Private jet makes it more palatable than commercial, at least.”
The casual mention of his personal jet—a luxury that still occasionally catches me off guard despite years of partnership with the wealthy businessman—barely registers as I consider the implications.
“I’ll be ready,” I promise, pushing aside personal disappointment. This meeting is crucial for the clinic—for the hundreds of uninsured patients who depend on our services. “Send me the briefing materials tonight so I can prepare.”
“Already in your inbox,” Daniel replies. “And Gabe? Dax mentioned you should stop by Nana’s tonight. Some kind of family dinner.”
My brow furrows in confusion. “Did I forget something?”
“Not that I know of,” Daniel says. “Though you might want to prepare yourself. Word about you and Dr. Martin seems to have spread.”
I suppress a groan. Of course it has. Between Tristy’s viral Instagram post and the small-town nature of Taos, our relationship status has probably become the topic of every conversation from the plaza to the ski valley.
“Wonderful,” I mutter, taking the turn that leads to my neighborhood. “I’ll deal with it.”
“See you tomorrow,” Daniel says, disconnecting with his usual abruptness.
