Page 14 of My Accidental Holidate

Her background is her cheek to cheek with a man, smiling like idiots.

I clear my throat and attempt to look uninterested as Barista Girl picks her phone up. “You two make a cute couple.” I say, gesturing to her screen

“We do, don’t we?” she gushes.

“How long have you two been together?” I ask, needing more information to torture myself with. I should be happy for a fellow female.

“Dan and I go way back. We’re getting married, just waiting for the timing to be right.”

There it is. Maybe we’re all just waiting for the timing to be right.

I look to my phone and there’s still nothing. He’s a busy guy, but I thought we had something. I thought maybe I fit into his life, his family, his world.

I turn off my phone. This isn’t healthy. I know when I’m not wanted. I was born knowing.

I knew the chances were slim that it would be my fairy tale.

I accept my drink, sipping it and burning my mouth.

The timing just wasn’t right.

* * *

Kurt

I stretch my arms and roll my neck, exhausted after four hours of emergency surgery on a three-year-old beagle. He darted out of his yard and was tagged by a car. Thankfully he was rushed in, and surgery went well. I’m optimistic he’ll pull through. He already licked my face, so that’s saying a lot.

I groan remembering that I still owe Chase a couple more overnight shifts. He took a pound of flesh when I was gone for a whole day of dates with Lucy, and then he had to leave the party early, even though he was making moves on one of the caterer’s wait staff.

Thoughts of inviting Lucy to sleep over evaporate. I head to my office, quickening my pace a little remembering that I’d gotten a message from Lucy.

Rereading her messages makes me regret having to work tonight even more. I’d ask Chase for another favor, but I’m sure he’d laugh in my face.

Kurt: Long day. Missing you too future wife.

Message sent, I start to tackle some paperwork before my next appointment. Our receptionist informs me of another appointment, and I check my phone, hoping to see that I missed a message from Lucy.

Nope, nothing.

I send another.

Kurt: How’s your day been?

I push away from the desk and head to the exam room. I snag the chart on the outside of the door and scan it before knocking and entering the room. This one should go relatively fast as it’s just a follow-up appointment. I flip the page, reading the past notes, the owner seemed to be following instructions since the plump cat that lost a decent amount of weight.

Before and after each appointment, I check my messages. Disappointment turns to concern. Which turns to worry.

And now that everyone has gone home for the evening, I’ve convinced myself that something is wrong. She should’ve responded by now. Even if she forgot her phone or it died, by now it should be fine. Screw texting. I call her, waiting anxiously for her to answer as I listen to the rings. Each ring that goes unanswered, my concern only grows.

Maybe she’s just in the shower.

What if someone gave her chamomile by accident? Could she have been in a car accident?

I shove a nervous hand through my hair and leave an awkward voicemail. Asking her to call or text me.

The night creeps by slowly. The beagle is resting well. Lulu continues to gain weight and has been given free reign of the enclosed receptionist area as well as my office, learning to balance on three legs with her amputation healing well. Her exploration ending in a nest of blankets where she settles down to sleep for the night. She’ll be up for adoption in just days but needs the perfect person to take care of her. Someone who needs to build a family from the ground up.

In the morning, I brief the staff on the rest of the patients before rushing out of the clinic and heading toward Lucy’s business.

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