Doctor Dearest by R.S. Grey

Doctor Dearest by R.S. Grey

Author:R.S. Grey [Grey, R.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-05T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter Eighteen

Connor

Natalie and I both say “No” at the same time like it’s a contest to see who can speak first. Then we glare at one another as if the other person is in the wrong for making it sound as if the last thing on earth we’d ever want to do is date.

Kieran nods slowly, as if he’s starting to understand. “Okay, right, but you’ve hooked up?”

Lindsey chokes on her drink. Natalie’s cheeks turn the color of Flaming Hot Cheetos. Miguel pretends to only have eyes for the baseball game, and Daniel just looks constipated. Or maybe he looks horrified. Whatever. Tonight, he’s not my favorite person, especially when he speaks up and tries to come to Natalie’s rescue, going so far as to sling his arm across the booth behind her. “No man, Connor is best friends with her older brother.”

Kieran narrows his eyes, still studying us. “Uh-huh…and why does that matter?”

Daniel scoffs. “Because it’s bro code 101.”

Guilt hits me in the stomach like a lead pipe.

Lindsey groans. “Oh come on, Daniel. What does that even mean? Natalie is an adult. If she doesn’t have autonomy over her body and her actions then who does?”

Daniel immediately blanches. “Sure. Of course. I wasn’t suggesting otherwise. It’s just…”

I glance over at Natalie, wondering if I should try to come to her defense and shut this conversation down, but she immediately shoots to her feet.

“Would you guys excuse me for a second?” she asks, her voice slightly higher than normal as she struggles to exit the booth.

I leap up, and so does Daniel. She could go out of the booth either way and her first instinct is to turn toward him, but she has to reluctantly turn back in my direction when she discovers Daniel’s way is blocked by another table. Miguel scoots out quickly so she can scurry past us. My hand shoots out to catch her arm, to slow her progress, to force her to meet my eyes so I can tell her I’m sorry for everything. She jerks out of my grasp and the momentum carries her backward so she stumbles and sideswipes a passing waitress. Beers clatter to the ground. Glass shatters into tiny shards and Natalie immediately bends down as if she’s going to help clean up the mess, apologies spilling out of her.

“I’m so sorry,” she tells the waitress, sounding near tears.

I loop my hands under her arms and try to get her away from the scene.

“Natalie, they’ve got it,” I assure her as she struggles against me. “C’mon, you can’t pick up glass with your bare hands. You’re a surgeon—those hands are probably insured for half a mil each.”

It’s meant to be a joke—something to lighten the mood—but she doesn’t take it as one and how the hell am I failing so badly at this?

I drop my hands and she doesn’t waste a second before hurrying off in the direction of the bathrooms. I feel paralyzed, watching her run from me. I’ve never felt



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