Page 91 of Dr. CEO (The Doctors)

“I’m sorry I left so abruptly,” he says.

“I know. I appreciate and accept your apology.” I don’t feel any anger toward him. It hurt that he left, but I understand why he did.

Before he can respond, the lift doors ping open and we step inside. We join an elderly couple standing at the back of the lift.

“There’s definitely the chill of autumn in the air,” the woman says.

“Do you want me to go back and get your coat?” the man asks her.

“I was thinking you might want to go back and get yours,” she replies.

“I won’t be cold, but if you will, you can wait for me in the lobby while I go and fetch yours.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” She scoops his hand up in hers and he presses a kiss to her cheek.

I grin and want to ask them questions. How long have they been married? Where did they meet? Have they always looked after each other like that?

But I don’t get a chance because we’re on the ground floor and the doors open into the lobby.

“You know when you said you know?” Vincent says as we head to the exit.

“Yes,” I say.

“The bit where I said I was sorry and you said ‘I know’?”

“Thirty seconds ago? Yes, I remember.”

He insists on opening the door for me, despite the doorman doing his best to open it for both of us, and we step out into the London afternoon. The woman in the lift was right. The chill of autumn is in the air. My pounding heart does a fine job of keeping me comfortably warm.

“What did you mean?” he asks.

We walk along a little bit and stop at a crossing.

“Just that… I know you’re sorry.”

“You do?”

I nod, keeping my focus on Hyde Park. I don’t really want to have this conversation among the hustle and bustle of traffic and people. I need to find some trees. I’m hoping I’ll feel more comfortable. More at home under an old oak.

We cross in silence and make our way into the park, which is bigger than I expected. And less organized. I suppose I’ve grown accustomed to formal gardens. But this is beautiful, too—this little slice of wild amid the concrete and stone city.

“They were right, in the lift. Autumn is on its way.” I bend and pick up a yellowed leaf.

“I really am sorry,” he says. “I freaked out and made up a bullshit excuse about work. I flew to Arizona.”

I turn to face him under a giant oak. He looks so troubled. I want to reach and stroke his face, comfort him, make him feel better. But I can’t.

I need some assurances.

And so does he.

“I love you,” I say.

He sucks in a breath and brings his fist to his chest.

After a beat, he responds. “That’s not what I expected you to say. But that’s part of the reason I love you,” He loves me? I want to swallow those words whole. “You never say the thing I expect you to say.”

He’s in for a wild ride this afternoon.

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