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“You think I slept with someone else?” I ask, raising my voice.
“Shh,” he silences. “I would prefer the office not to know about our arrangement.”
“I didn’t sleep with anyone else,” I spat. “It’s time you start believing me once in a while. I don’t really like you speaking to me like that. We can easily end our agreement if you have no faith in me.”
His voice softens when he says, “I’m sorry. I want to be sure we’re on the same page.”
“You have my word. I hope we won’t need to have this conversation again.”
“As long as the rules are followed, there will be no need.”
“Can I get back to my work? I have things to finish.”
“By all means. Please let Joan know if you need a signature on anything so she can fit you into my schedule.”
“I will.”
I rise from my seat but turn back before I exit his office. “Goodbye, Dr. Pearce.”
“Goodbye, Miss Stanford.”
I head to my cubicle, where Cindy and Edgar give me the third degree about why Chase wanted to see me. I make up an excuse to throw them off. It’s easier than opening myself up to questions. They ask me how my weekend was, and I tell them it was quiet. I’m not in the mood to talk anymore.
As the week goes on, I don’t see or hear from Chase; and frankly, I’m a bit disappointed. I thought he would at least text me or give me a call when I was at home, but I got nothing. I’m not about to lower myself by calling him either, so I wait.
On Friday afternoon, I get an email from the clinic to let me know that my test results are in. I can’t call them in my cubicle, so I run downstairs and occupy one of the benches in the corner of the lobby. Keeping my voice hushed, I eventually breathe a sigh of relief when they tell me that I’m clean.
When I head upstairs, I debate whether I should tell Chase that I have the green light or wait until I see him next. Weighing the pros and cons, I decided to wait until I see him in person, whenever that will be. I haven’t had to complete anything that has needed his signature this week, and the last time I saw him was at the meeting on Monday morning. Admittedly, I miss him. It’s strange to me because only at the beginning of my relationship with Jeremy did I have the same feelings.
I’m almost ready to leave my desk when my desk phone rings. It’s Joan, asking me to visit Dr. Pearce’s office. He’s waiting for me. A smile breaks out on my face because I’m finally going to see him—and I’m the one who sought out the other.
His office door is closed, so I lightly knock. His deep baritone summons me.
“Dr. Pearce,” I greet.
“Miss Stanford, please close the door.”
I do and sit down in front of his desk. He has a stern look on his face, and I wonder if I did something this time, or it’s him being him.
“Did I do something wrong?” I venture.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Did you get your test results back?”
“Yes, about two hours ago.”
His face brightens. “And?”
“I have an STD.”
His face darkens, and he runs his hand through his hair. “What do you have? You should start treatment immediately.”
“I’m kidding,” I joke, “I’m negative.”
“That’s not funny.”
