Page 16 of Raise The Bar
“I’m sorry?”
“Heart disease, diabetes, other cancers?” When I don’t answer immediately, he continues. “Heart disease runs in my family. It’s one of the reasons I pursued medicine. My paternal grandfather died of a massive heart attack at fifty-two.”
“Oh, Sebastian, I’m so sorry.”
He waves his hand dismissively at my condolences. “He died when I was six, I barely remember the man.”
I’m taken aback by the shift in his demeanor. In a matter of minutes, he’s gone from shy young man on a first date to focused clinician taking a history for a consult. All of a sudden I feel like I’ve been sent to the principal’s office and I’m not sure what for.
“Knowing what you may be genetically predisposed to can help you increase your odds of not developing it. For instance, I maintain a healthy BMI, eat a balanced diet, exercise regularly, and I don’t drink or smoke.” He’s leaning forward now, speaking animatedly with his hands. “So what else is in your family history?”
“Um…a few of my aunts developed type II diabetes, but–”
Sebastian winces and looks pointedly at my cinnamon roll. I wasn’t kidding when I said it was the size of my head. It also has a generous amount of cream cheese frosting covering the top and some has slid down its sides onto my plate.
“Do you eat things like that regularly?” There is no mistaking the sharp judgment in his tone and I go on the defensive immediately.
“Sometimes.” I try to keep my tone light and unaffected. “I mean, I eat well most of the time, but I definitely enjoy my treats too. Doesn’t everyone?”
Food has always been a source of joy in my family. From the chocolate chip pancakes my dad made June and I every Saturday morning to the homemade birthday cakes my mother used to bake us. She’d spend hours icing the cakes and carefully piping delicate buttercream flowers in all different colors. Don’t get me wrong, I eat my fair share of salads, too. But I’ve never been one to deny myself any type of food.
“Between your latte andthat,” he gestures to my cinnamon roll with a look bordering on disgust, “you’re consuming more than half of your daily caloric requirements, not to mention it’s insanely high in processed sugar and saturated fats.” He’s speaking in a matter-of-fact manner that I assume he would use on his patients. “How often do you exercise?”
“I beg your pardon?” My tone is a warning that he seems completely oblivious to.
“Look, you’re obviously a very beautiful woman, Maggie,” he says, gesturing to the half of me that is visible above the table. “But a normal BMI is not always a true representation of good health. When was your last physical?”
This is not happening. How did this date go from promising to nightmare-inducing in fewer than five minutes? Family medical histories? Mentioning my BMI? Insulting my cinnamon roll?!
“Look, Sebastian–”
“Maggie, I’m sorry.” He reaches across the table and places his hand on my arm. His face is etched with concern as he looks at me and I feel myself soften. Maybe he’s just really nervous. He said it himself, he doesn’t date much. He probably just started talking about health concerns because that’s his area of expertise. He could have just been trying to stay in his comfort zone. I wait for him to say something, but he just continues to stare at me, his hand still holding my wrist.
“Is your heart rate always this elevated?” he asks finally. “When was the last time you had your blood pressure checked?”
He’s taking my pulse. The man is actually taking my pulse.
Without taking my eyes off him, I use my free hand to tug on my ear twice as I tilt my head to the side, smiling. “I’m not sure.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Callum stand and start toward the door and moments later, my phone starts to ring. “Excuse me,” I remove my hand from Sebastian’s grasp and pick up my phone from the table. Unknown caller is displayed on my screen, but I’ve got a pretty good idea who it is. I swipe to accept the call. “Hello?”
“Good news, Ms. Lane ,” Callum’s sultry voice comes through the phone. The sound sets off an electric current in my body. “We’ve managed to find you a kidney.”
“That’s wonderful news, Mr. Kent,” I smile, despite myself. “Be a dear and keep it on ice for me; I’ll be right there.” I push my chair back from the table and stand. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian, but something has come up that I need to take care of. It was really nice meeting you.”
“Uh, yeah…you too,” he smiles up at me. I think he might be as relieved as I am. “Take care of yourself, Maggie. I mean it. Take care.” He glances at my mostly untouched breakfast and then back up at me. “Type II diabetes is no joke.”
I pick up my latte in one hand and my cinnamon roll in the other, taking a large bite of the latter. “You too!” I say with a mouth full of food and a sticky grin.
Chapter 9
Callum
Ithought Maggie was gorgeous when she was happy. She’s absolutely breathtaking when she’s furious.
She exits the coffee shop with fire in her eyes and icing on her face. She says nothing and the look she gives me tells me that I would be wise to do the same. I fall into step with her and we walk in the direction of her apartment in silence. Well, almost silence. There is the occasional sound of her taking a swig of her coffee and taking bites of the world’s largest cinnamon roll. She eats it like she’s mad at it, finishing it as we reach a set of red lights. She takes several long gulps of her coffee, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. There is a tiny amount of icing just above her full lips and I would very much like to gently brush it away with my thumb. Or my tongue.
Read the room, man. She’s clearly angry from her date with Dr. Buzzkill and I highly doubt she wants you to flirt with her. I steal another glance at her because I just can’t help myself. Face flushed, eyes narrowed, chest heaving with every breath she takes. Yup. Angry Maggie is the hottest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.
I shouldn’t be pleased with how everything played out. After all, I’m here to help her. So why was I downright euphoric when it became clear things were heading south?
