The Wedding Date, page 11
A hell of a lot better than he’d thought it was going to be, that was for sure. Drew smirked.
Carlos’s eyebrows went up and he shook his head.
“Of course. Why would I have thought anything less of you?”
Drew noticed the interested glances sent their way and gave Carlos a warning look. Carlos, of course, exaggeratedly zipped his lips. Always discreet, that one.
They got off on the tenth floor, and Carlos followed him to his office, shutting the door behind them.
“Okay, now you can tell me. Found a woman in the elevator and spent all weekend banging her, huh?”
Drew relaxed into his desk chair and turned on his computer.
“Not quite all weekend.” He grinned again.
Carlos sat in the chair on the other side of his desk.
“Oh God, leave it to you. I can’t believe you picked up someone in an elevator and made her your plus-one to your ex’s wedding.”
Drew grimaced.
“Oh, it was even worse. I forgot to tell you: I accidentally told Josh she was my girlfriend, so . . .”
Carlos leaned back in the chair.
“You, a girlfriend? So she had to fake it all night? How did you get her to do that?”
Drew grinned.
“Just my natural charm, I guess.”
Carlos’s phone buzzed and he glanced at it.
“Oh, I bet everyone at the wedding grilled the poor girl. I hope she was up to the pretense.”
Was she ever. Man, he really couldn’t have picked a better person to be stuck in an elevator with, could he?
“She works in politics, so she’s good at stuff like that.”
She’d been good at a lot of things. Pretending to be his girlfriend, striking back at Amy, that little thing she did with her hips . . .
“Stop it,” Carlos said. “You keep getting this ‘thinking about the sex you just had’ look on your face, and I’m sick of that look from you.”
Drew shook his head to clear it. He had a feeling he’d be thinking about the sex he’d had with Alexa for at least a few days.
“Sorry, but you asked about her. One thought led to another, and . . .” He shrugged. “I’m only human.”
Carlos stood up and opened Drew’s top desk drawer to grab some of the candy out of it.
“Well, at least you had an ironclad excuse for getting out of there early yesterday. I know how you are with women. Good thing you had to get back here for that golf thing.”
Oh shit, the golf tournament.
Carlos laughed at the look on Drew’s face.
“What, did you get home and then bail on the golf tournament? Too tired from elevator girl?”
Drew sighed.
“See, what had happened was . . .”
Carlos laughed. “Oh shit, now this is getting good. Go on.” Carlos leaned back and propped his feet up on Drew’s desk.
He was going to get so much shit for this, but now he’d said too much to not tell the whole story. Carlos would get it out of him eventually anyway.
“I kind of changed my flight to last night. And I forgot all about the golf tournament . . . so, that’s what happened. More or less.”
Carlos took his feet down and stared at Drew.
“You changed your flight? To hang out with elevator girl?”
Drew shrugged and leaned back in his chair, trying to play it off.
“You know I hate golf. The tournament was just an excuse to get out of there, but once I had Alexa, I didn’t need an excuse anymore.”
He twitched under Carlos’s gaze. His phone buzzed, and he glanced over at it—just an update on a patient. Carlos snatched his phone before he could pull it away.
“Ooh, her name was Alexa, huh? Is that Alexa texting you?”
Drew stood up and reached over the desk for his phone.
“Alexa Monroe. And no, as you can see, it wasn’t her.” Carlos handed him back the phone with a wide grin on his face. “What?”
“Alexa Monroe. You like this girl.”
Drew shrugged again, pretending that he didn’t know what Carlos meant.
“Sure, of course I liked her. We had a great time this weekend.”
Carlos shook his head, still grinning.
“No, you like her like her. You wanted that to be a text from her—you know you did. You should have heard your voice when you said her name and said it wasn’t from her. You wanted her to text you!”
Drew shook his head then gave up. Carlos would just keep pushing until he admitted it, anyway.
“I wouldn’t be mad or anything if she texted me. But she lives in Berkeley, remember? And I live here? In Santa Monica?”
Carlos reached for Drew’s coffee, took a sip, and grimaced.
“So, let me get this straight. You met a great girl this weekend. You had fun with her, you liked her . . . Is she ugly? Was the sex bad?”
Drew smirked again. He didn’t mean to. But hell no to both of those things.
“I can see your answer. To recap: you met a great girl, you had fun with her, you liked her, she’s cute, the sex was good.”
Drew nodded.
“And . . . you’re just never going to see her again?”
Hmmm. When you put it that way, it didn’t make much sense.
“That was the plan, I guess so, yeah.”
Carlos stood up.
“You’re such an asshole. I know you’re weird about commitment and all, but this is taking it a little far. Text Alexa Monroe. Figure out when you’re going to see her again. Don’t be an idiot. I mean even more of one than you already are.” Carlos left his office and then ruined his exit by poking his head back in. “Hoops at six?”
Drew nodded as Carlos walked out, glad he’d remembered to throw his gym bag in the car this morning. Their Monday basketball game would be a good way to get out some of his aggressions from this conversation, where Carlos had somehow gotten the best of him without even trying.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about texting her again. He had wanted to text her when he’d gotten in bed when he got home, when he stopped on the way to work this morning to pick up coffee and was sure she’d already had some, when he saw a billboard for some new fast-food breakfast sandwich and laughed. But he’d held off, because he figured they’d tacitly agreed that this weekend, as great as it was, was all they’d have. But Carlos had a point.
He reached for his phone. Oh, the hell with it. They could at least have another weekend.
Maybe this is crazy, but I have lots of frequent flier miles. Feel like a trip to LA this weekend?
He didn’t let himself think about it and pressed send.
• • •
By the time she got off the phone with Maddie, the mayor was in, and she only had time for a brief check-in with Theo before he pulled all of the senior staff into their Monday morning meeting.
After they finished regular business, the mayor looked at her.
“Alexa, you’re going to get me a memo on our plan forward with that delinquent teen project. End of the week?”
She locked eyes with Theo across the table from her. He wanted a memo. That was way more than she’d anticipated from his brush-off at their meeting on Friday.
“Absolutely,” she said to her boss.
“Great.” The mayor stood up, and the rest of the room did, too. “Good work, people. Theo, one more question for you . . .”
He and Theo walked out of the room, deep in conversation about a reporter that the mayor was trying to get on their side, while Alexa stood there stunned.
She was halfway there. Sure, she would have to write the best memo she’d ever written, but she didn’t even think he would want that. Granted, just because he was ready to read another memo didn’t mean he was ready to throw his weight behind the idea, but it meant he was close.
And she really needed to get him to stop calling it a “delinquent teen project.” She’d thought she’d made it clear when they met that the correct terminology was “at-risk youth.” But in the grand scheme of things, that was not a big deal.
She walked back to her office, glad she’d made a quick outline of her arguments on her phone in the middle of the night once when she couldn’t sleep. She reached for her phone to read it over. And that’s when she saw the text from Drew.
She looked over her shoulder. Was she being filmed? Was this a dream? Was this some kind of “This is Alexa’s lucky day!” fake reality TV show? Her boss was in on her pet project, a hot guy wanted to fly her to L.A.—was she going to get an email with a $1,000 gift card to Sephora next?
He’d sent it two hours ago. Right when she was telling Maddie that she was sure she’d never hear from him again.
Shit, what should she say? YES, OF COURSE was what she wanted to say, but that would be kind of desperate and needy, right? She checked her boss’s calendar: he was at his niece’s wedding in Tahoe that weekend. And he’d wanted her memo by Friday anyway, so work shouldn’t be in her way. But still, shouldn’t she . . .
She heard Maddie’s voice in her head telling her not to overthink it.
She texted him back.
Sure, why not?
She wanted to take it back almost immediately. What the hell was she doing? Wasting another weekend on this guy? Just because she’d be done with the—damn it, now she could only think of it as the “delinquent teens” memo—by Friday didn’t mean that she wouldn’t have a ton of other work to do. She’d have to do all the work that she wouldn’t get to bring home every night this week because she’d be working on the memo.
And when was she going to find time to pack? For a weekend in L.A.? Oh God, she was going to have to go shopping again. She didn’t have time to go shopping again! And what if he wanted to go to the beach? Would she have to wear a swimming suit? Didn’t he know what she looked like in a swimming suit? Maybe this was all a joke and she’d never hear from him again.
Great, I’ll check flights.
“I can’t believe you’re not spinning around in your office chair,” Theo said, standing at her office door.
She jumped.
“How did you know I had something to be spinning about?”
Theo plopped into the chair on the other side of her desk.
“Um, because I was sitting right there when he said he wanted the memo?”
The memo, right. That’s what he was talking about.
“Oh. Yeah, right, I was thinking of . . . something else.”
Theo paused mid-reach toward her candy jar.
“Wait a minute. What could you possibly be thinking about other than your project?” He looked from Alexa’s face to her phone. “Who’s the guy?”
She tried to hold back her smile and failed.
“Um. Close the door.”
Theo jumped up to close the door and was back at her desk in seconds.
“Talk. We can talk about the memo in a second. I don’t have another meeting for”—he looked at his watch—“forty-five minutes. Go.”
She rooted through her candy jar to find a Jolly Rancher.
“Soooo, funny story . . .”
10
Some people might say Drew’s terrible mood during those two hours after he’d texted Alexa was because he’d convinced himself she wasn’t going to write back. After ten minutes of nothing, he’d decided that her gentle way of letting him down would be to never answer, and his desperation would be out there floating in the wind forever.
That wasn’t why he’d been in such a bad mood, he insisted to himself, and then to Carlos, when he stopped by on the way to get more coffee. It was just because of those irritating parents he had to deal with this morning. Carlos didn’t believe him. He didn’t really believe himself either.
It was kind of amazing how little he cared about those irritating parents after Alexa texted back, though.
In the middle of their tame text conversation about flight times, he ventured a suggestion.
You gonna show up to the flight without panties like yesterday?
Her reply came back within seconds.
Maybe.
He grinned down at his phone.
Friday morning, he tried to convince himself the spring in his step was only because his apartment was spotless for the first time in months, thanks to the emergency visit from a house cleaner. Carlos was at the clinic all day, not the main hospital, so there was no one there to argue that point with him.
All he had that day were some appointments in the morning and assisting Dr. Montgomery on a surgery for four-year-old Jack, one of Drew’s favorite patients. He’d been hit by a car about a month ago, and one of his bones wasn’t healing right. Throughout it all, the kid had been a trooper, and his parents had been attentive and thoughtful.
But Jack’s surgery got pushed back. From noon to two. Then at one thirty, word came from Dr. Montgomery’s office that it was going to be at least another hour, maybe two. Drew dropped by the waiting room to check on Jack and his parents. Jack was playing happily on the floor with a pile of Legos.
“Dr. Nick! Look what I did!”
“Hey, Jack, good job. Hey, Abby, Fred, how are you guys holding up?”
Jack’s mom, Abby, looked up at him and shrugged as she helped Jack pull apart two blue Legos.
“Hanging in there, but we thought we’d be done by now.”
Drew sighed.
“Yeah, me, too. Dr. Montgomery had an emergency. I’m so sorry about this.”
The frustrating thing was that Drew could have done the surgery alone, but Dr. Montgomery had taken an interest in the case, and it’s not like he could tell the parents, Oh no, don’t wait for the expert, he’s not worth it.
“They told us,” Abby said. “At least they let us feed him a little once it got pushed back, otherwise this would be even more of a nightmare.”
Drew was grateful he’d sent word to the nurses to get Jack some food; sometimes you had to relax the “no eating before surgery” rules with kids.
“Can I get you two anything?” Drew asked them. “Coffee, tea, water?”
Fred smiled at him.
“Thanks, Dr. Nichols. I went on a coffee run, so we’re good. Thanks for checking on us. We appreciate it.”
When he finally got word that Dr. Montgomery was out of his emergency surgery, he did a quick mental calculation and realized there was no way he was going to be on time to pick up Alexa from the airport. Now he’d be late, she’d be sitting at LAX—possibly without panties on—getting more and more frustrated, and the whole weekend would be fucked up.
Damn it. He called Carlos.
“Hey man, I need a huge favor.”
Carlos was clearly in the car; Drew could hear the air whistling through the windows.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for Alexa?” Carlos asked.
Why was he friends with such a jackass?
“Yeah, that’s the thing. My surgery got pushed back, so I’m going to be stuck here for a while. Can you pick her up from the airport and bring her to my apartment? You have my keys, right? I’ll owe you in beer for the next two months.”
He could hear Carlos’s car shut off, and he got switched off speakerphone.
“No problem, man. Text me her flight info and how I can find her. Or should I just take all of the short black women with big boobs at LAX to your apartment so you can pick?”
Drew lay his head down on his desk.
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“Oh, no doubt, you absolutely are. Good luck with the surgery!”
Drew texted Alexa the change of plans. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be pissed. She knew he was a doctor, so it would be okay. Right?
• • •
Alexa had given her boss two hard copies and an email version of her memo right before he walked out the door on Friday afternoon. She’d barely slept all week, between her regular work, texting Drew, writing and editing the memo every night, thinking about Drew, and, oh yeah, stressing about the upcoming weekend. Thursday night, she’d made her last edits on the memo, after copious notes from Theo, and had packed probably way too many clothes for a weekend trip to L.A.
She slipped into the bathroom at work right before leaving for the airport, stepped out of her underwear, and tucked them into the bottom of her tote bag. When she came out of the stall, she couldn’t even look herself in the eye in the mirror.
She sang along to her girl-power playlist in the car on the way to the airport, which helped to psych herself up. But the text from Drew brought her down to earth.
My surgery got pushed back so I’m running late. My buddy Carlos is going to pick you up and bring you to my apartment. He drives a red BMW his number is 310-555-4827 if you can’t find him, but he’s got your number too.
Huh. He was a doctor; these things happened. But she felt so deflated. Now she had no real idea when she was going to get to see him tonight. How long was this surgery supposed to last? Was she supposed to just tuck herself in his bed and wait for him? Thank God she’d thrown her yoga pants in her suitcase. And brought her laptop.
And the friend picking her up had a red BMW? Oh God, he was going to be one of those fancy car assholes, wasn’t he? Welcome to L.A.
She forced herself to put together a weekend work to-do list while on the flight. When she read it over, she saw she’d repeated three different things. Too distracted for more work, she pulled a fashion magazine out of her bag and updated her Sephora wish list, just in case that dream gift certificate actually came.
When her flight landed, she had texts from both Maddie and Theo, wishing her luck (Maddie) and asking a work question (Theo). And one from a 310 number:
Hey Alexa, Drew’s friend Carlos here. Picking you up bc he can’t. Look for the red car. See you soon.
She wished tone came through easier on text messages. Was this guy the asshole that the red sports car would make him seem? And, oh God, had Drew told him the same girlfriend story he’d given the people at the wedding, or did he know the real story? She couldn’t even ask Drew because he was in surgery. She’d just have to play it by ear.
Carlos’s eyebrows went up and he shook his head.
“Of course. Why would I have thought anything less of you?”
Drew noticed the interested glances sent their way and gave Carlos a warning look. Carlos, of course, exaggeratedly zipped his lips. Always discreet, that one.
They got off on the tenth floor, and Carlos followed him to his office, shutting the door behind them.
“Okay, now you can tell me. Found a woman in the elevator and spent all weekend banging her, huh?”
Drew relaxed into his desk chair and turned on his computer.
“Not quite all weekend.” He grinned again.
Carlos sat in the chair on the other side of his desk.
“Oh God, leave it to you. I can’t believe you picked up someone in an elevator and made her your plus-one to your ex’s wedding.”
Drew grimaced.
“Oh, it was even worse. I forgot to tell you: I accidentally told Josh she was my girlfriend, so . . .”
Carlos leaned back in the chair.
“You, a girlfriend? So she had to fake it all night? How did you get her to do that?”
Drew grinned.
“Just my natural charm, I guess.”
Carlos’s phone buzzed and he glanced at it.
“Oh, I bet everyone at the wedding grilled the poor girl. I hope she was up to the pretense.”
Was she ever. Man, he really couldn’t have picked a better person to be stuck in an elevator with, could he?
“She works in politics, so she’s good at stuff like that.”
She’d been good at a lot of things. Pretending to be his girlfriend, striking back at Amy, that little thing she did with her hips . . .
“Stop it,” Carlos said. “You keep getting this ‘thinking about the sex you just had’ look on your face, and I’m sick of that look from you.”
Drew shook his head to clear it. He had a feeling he’d be thinking about the sex he’d had with Alexa for at least a few days.
“Sorry, but you asked about her. One thought led to another, and . . .” He shrugged. “I’m only human.”
Carlos stood up and opened Drew’s top desk drawer to grab some of the candy out of it.
“Well, at least you had an ironclad excuse for getting out of there early yesterday. I know how you are with women. Good thing you had to get back here for that golf thing.”
Oh shit, the golf tournament.
Carlos laughed at the look on Drew’s face.
“What, did you get home and then bail on the golf tournament? Too tired from elevator girl?”
Drew sighed.
“See, what had happened was . . .”
Carlos laughed. “Oh shit, now this is getting good. Go on.” Carlos leaned back and propped his feet up on Drew’s desk.
He was going to get so much shit for this, but now he’d said too much to not tell the whole story. Carlos would get it out of him eventually anyway.
“I kind of changed my flight to last night. And I forgot all about the golf tournament . . . so, that’s what happened. More or less.”
Carlos took his feet down and stared at Drew.
“You changed your flight? To hang out with elevator girl?”
Drew shrugged and leaned back in his chair, trying to play it off.
“You know I hate golf. The tournament was just an excuse to get out of there, but once I had Alexa, I didn’t need an excuse anymore.”
He twitched under Carlos’s gaze. His phone buzzed, and he glanced over at it—just an update on a patient. Carlos snatched his phone before he could pull it away.
“Ooh, her name was Alexa, huh? Is that Alexa texting you?”
Drew stood up and reached over the desk for his phone.
“Alexa Monroe. And no, as you can see, it wasn’t her.” Carlos handed him back the phone with a wide grin on his face. “What?”
“Alexa Monroe. You like this girl.”
Drew shrugged again, pretending that he didn’t know what Carlos meant.
“Sure, of course I liked her. We had a great time this weekend.”
Carlos shook his head, still grinning.
“No, you like her like her. You wanted that to be a text from her—you know you did. You should have heard your voice when you said her name and said it wasn’t from her. You wanted her to text you!”
Drew shook his head then gave up. Carlos would just keep pushing until he admitted it, anyway.
“I wouldn’t be mad or anything if she texted me. But she lives in Berkeley, remember? And I live here? In Santa Monica?”
Carlos reached for Drew’s coffee, took a sip, and grimaced.
“So, let me get this straight. You met a great girl this weekend. You had fun with her, you liked her . . . Is she ugly? Was the sex bad?”
Drew smirked again. He didn’t mean to. But hell no to both of those things.
“I can see your answer. To recap: you met a great girl, you had fun with her, you liked her, she’s cute, the sex was good.”
Drew nodded.
“And . . . you’re just never going to see her again?”
Hmmm. When you put it that way, it didn’t make much sense.
“That was the plan, I guess so, yeah.”
Carlos stood up.
“You’re such an asshole. I know you’re weird about commitment and all, but this is taking it a little far. Text Alexa Monroe. Figure out when you’re going to see her again. Don’t be an idiot. I mean even more of one than you already are.” Carlos left his office and then ruined his exit by poking his head back in. “Hoops at six?”
Drew nodded as Carlos walked out, glad he’d remembered to throw his gym bag in the car this morning. Their Monday basketball game would be a good way to get out some of his aggressions from this conversation, where Carlos had somehow gotten the best of him without even trying.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about texting her again. He had wanted to text her when he’d gotten in bed when he got home, when he stopped on the way to work this morning to pick up coffee and was sure she’d already had some, when he saw a billboard for some new fast-food breakfast sandwich and laughed. But he’d held off, because he figured they’d tacitly agreed that this weekend, as great as it was, was all they’d have. But Carlos had a point.
He reached for his phone. Oh, the hell with it. They could at least have another weekend.
Maybe this is crazy, but I have lots of frequent flier miles. Feel like a trip to LA this weekend?
He didn’t let himself think about it and pressed send.
• • •
By the time she got off the phone with Maddie, the mayor was in, and she only had time for a brief check-in with Theo before he pulled all of the senior staff into their Monday morning meeting.
After they finished regular business, the mayor looked at her.
“Alexa, you’re going to get me a memo on our plan forward with that delinquent teen project. End of the week?”
She locked eyes with Theo across the table from her. He wanted a memo. That was way more than she’d anticipated from his brush-off at their meeting on Friday.
“Absolutely,” she said to her boss.
“Great.” The mayor stood up, and the rest of the room did, too. “Good work, people. Theo, one more question for you . . .”
He and Theo walked out of the room, deep in conversation about a reporter that the mayor was trying to get on their side, while Alexa stood there stunned.
She was halfway there. Sure, she would have to write the best memo she’d ever written, but she didn’t even think he would want that. Granted, just because he was ready to read another memo didn’t mean he was ready to throw his weight behind the idea, but it meant he was close.
And she really needed to get him to stop calling it a “delinquent teen project.” She’d thought she’d made it clear when they met that the correct terminology was “at-risk youth.” But in the grand scheme of things, that was not a big deal.
She walked back to her office, glad she’d made a quick outline of her arguments on her phone in the middle of the night once when she couldn’t sleep. She reached for her phone to read it over. And that’s when she saw the text from Drew.
She looked over her shoulder. Was she being filmed? Was this a dream? Was this some kind of “This is Alexa’s lucky day!” fake reality TV show? Her boss was in on her pet project, a hot guy wanted to fly her to L.A.—was she going to get an email with a $1,000 gift card to Sephora next?
He’d sent it two hours ago. Right when she was telling Maddie that she was sure she’d never hear from him again.
Shit, what should she say? YES, OF COURSE was what she wanted to say, but that would be kind of desperate and needy, right? She checked her boss’s calendar: he was at his niece’s wedding in Tahoe that weekend. And he’d wanted her memo by Friday anyway, so work shouldn’t be in her way. But still, shouldn’t she . . .
She heard Maddie’s voice in her head telling her not to overthink it.
She texted him back.
Sure, why not?
She wanted to take it back almost immediately. What the hell was she doing? Wasting another weekend on this guy? Just because she’d be done with the—damn it, now she could only think of it as the “delinquent teens” memo—by Friday didn’t mean that she wouldn’t have a ton of other work to do. She’d have to do all the work that she wouldn’t get to bring home every night this week because she’d be working on the memo.
And when was she going to find time to pack? For a weekend in L.A.? Oh God, she was going to have to go shopping again. She didn’t have time to go shopping again! And what if he wanted to go to the beach? Would she have to wear a swimming suit? Didn’t he know what she looked like in a swimming suit? Maybe this was all a joke and she’d never hear from him again.
Great, I’ll check flights.
“I can’t believe you’re not spinning around in your office chair,” Theo said, standing at her office door.
She jumped.
“How did you know I had something to be spinning about?”
Theo plopped into the chair on the other side of her desk.
“Um, because I was sitting right there when he said he wanted the memo?”
The memo, right. That’s what he was talking about.
“Oh. Yeah, right, I was thinking of . . . something else.”
Theo paused mid-reach toward her candy jar.
“Wait a minute. What could you possibly be thinking about other than your project?” He looked from Alexa’s face to her phone. “Who’s the guy?”
She tried to hold back her smile and failed.
“Um. Close the door.”
Theo jumped up to close the door and was back at her desk in seconds.
“Talk. We can talk about the memo in a second. I don’t have another meeting for”—he looked at his watch—“forty-five minutes. Go.”
She rooted through her candy jar to find a Jolly Rancher.
“Soooo, funny story . . .”
10
Some people might say Drew’s terrible mood during those two hours after he’d texted Alexa was because he’d convinced himself she wasn’t going to write back. After ten minutes of nothing, he’d decided that her gentle way of letting him down would be to never answer, and his desperation would be out there floating in the wind forever.
That wasn’t why he’d been in such a bad mood, he insisted to himself, and then to Carlos, when he stopped by on the way to get more coffee. It was just because of those irritating parents he had to deal with this morning. Carlos didn’t believe him. He didn’t really believe himself either.
It was kind of amazing how little he cared about those irritating parents after Alexa texted back, though.
In the middle of their tame text conversation about flight times, he ventured a suggestion.
You gonna show up to the flight without panties like yesterday?
Her reply came back within seconds.
Maybe.
He grinned down at his phone.
Friday morning, he tried to convince himself the spring in his step was only because his apartment was spotless for the first time in months, thanks to the emergency visit from a house cleaner. Carlos was at the clinic all day, not the main hospital, so there was no one there to argue that point with him.
All he had that day were some appointments in the morning and assisting Dr. Montgomery on a surgery for four-year-old Jack, one of Drew’s favorite patients. He’d been hit by a car about a month ago, and one of his bones wasn’t healing right. Throughout it all, the kid had been a trooper, and his parents had been attentive and thoughtful.
But Jack’s surgery got pushed back. From noon to two. Then at one thirty, word came from Dr. Montgomery’s office that it was going to be at least another hour, maybe two. Drew dropped by the waiting room to check on Jack and his parents. Jack was playing happily on the floor with a pile of Legos.
“Dr. Nick! Look what I did!”
“Hey, Jack, good job. Hey, Abby, Fred, how are you guys holding up?”
Jack’s mom, Abby, looked up at him and shrugged as she helped Jack pull apart two blue Legos.
“Hanging in there, but we thought we’d be done by now.”
Drew sighed.
“Yeah, me, too. Dr. Montgomery had an emergency. I’m so sorry about this.”
The frustrating thing was that Drew could have done the surgery alone, but Dr. Montgomery had taken an interest in the case, and it’s not like he could tell the parents, Oh no, don’t wait for the expert, he’s not worth it.
“They told us,” Abby said. “At least they let us feed him a little once it got pushed back, otherwise this would be even more of a nightmare.”
Drew was grateful he’d sent word to the nurses to get Jack some food; sometimes you had to relax the “no eating before surgery” rules with kids.
“Can I get you two anything?” Drew asked them. “Coffee, tea, water?”
Fred smiled at him.
“Thanks, Dr. Nichols. I went on a coffee run, so we’re good. Thanks for checking on us. We appreciate it.”
When he finally got word that Dr. Montgomery was out of his emergency surgery, he did a quick mental calculation and realized there was no way he was going to be on time to pick up Alexa from the airport. Now he’d be late, she’d be sitting at LAX—possibly without panties on—getting more and more frustrated, and the whole weekend would be fucked up.
Damn it. He called Carlos.
“Hey man, I need a huge favor.”
Carlos was clearly in the car; Drew could hear the air whistling through the windows.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for Alexa?” Carlos asked.
Why was he friends with such a jackass?
“Yeah, that’s the thing. My surgery got pushed back, so I’m going to be stuck here for a while. Can you pick her up from the airport and bring her to my apartment? You have my keys, right? I’ll owe you in beer for the next two months.”
He could hear Carlos’s car shut off, and he got switched off speakerphone.
“No problem, man. Text me her flight info and how I can find her. Or should I just take all of the short black women with big boobs at LAX to your apartment so you can pick?”
Drew lay his head down on his desk.
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“Oh, no doubt, you absolutely are. Good luck with the surgery!”
Drew texted Alexa the change of plans. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be pissed. She knew he was a doctor, so it would be okay. Right?
• • •
Alexa had given her boss two hard copies and an email version of her memo right before he walked out the door on Friday afternoon. She’d barely slept all week, between her regular work, texting Drew, writing and editing the memo every night, thinking about Drew, and, oh yeah, stressing about the upcoming weekend. Thursday night, she’d made her last edits on the memo, after copious notes from Theo, and had packed probably way too many clothes for a weekend trip to L.A.
She slipped into the bathroom at work right before leaving for the airport, stepped out of her underwear, and tucked them into the bottom of her tote bag. When she came out of the stall, she couldn’t even look herself in the eye in the mirror.
She sang along to her girl-power playlist in the car on the way to the airport, which helped to psych herself up. But the text from Drew brought her down to earth.
My surgery got pushed back so I’m running late. My buddy Carlos is going to pick you up and bring you to my apartment. He drives a red BMW his number is 310-555-4827 if you can’t find him, but he’s got your number too.
Huh. He was a doctor; these things happened. But she felt so deflated. Now she had no real idea when she was going to get to see him tonight. How long was this surgery supposed to last? Was she supposed to just tuck herself in his bed and wait for him? Thank God she’d thrown her yoga pants in her suitcase. And brought her laptop.
And the friend picking her up had a red BMW? Oh God, he was going to be one of those fancy car assholes, wasn’t he? Welcome to L.A.
She forced herself to put together a weekend work to-do list while on the flight. When she read it over, she saw she’d repeated three different things. Too distracted for more work, she pulled a fashion magazine out of her bag and updated her Sephora wish list, just in case that dream gift certificate actually came.
When her flight landed, she had texts from both Maddie and Theo, wishing her luck (Maddie) and asking a work question (Theo). And one from a 310 number:
Hey Alexa, Drew’s friend Carlos here. Picking you up bc he can’t. Look for the red car. See you soon.
She wished tone came through easier on text messages. Was this guy the asshole that the red sports car would make him seem? And, oh God, had Drew told him the same girlfriend story he’d given the people at the wedding, or did he know the real story? She couldn’t even ask Drew because he was in surgery. She’d just have to play it by ear.
