Page 58 of None Of Your Business

Sixteen

Hudson

Dr. Andrews has been presenting slides on outpatient integration for ten minutes, but my brain is locked on three words: mind-blowing sex.

I rub a hand over my jaw, staring at a bar chart without seeing it.

“Hudson?”

I look up.

Andrews is watching me from the head of the conference table. “Your thoughts on the outpatient compliance metrics?”

My focus snaps back into place. “We need to guard against removing patient autonomy in the name of efficiency,” I say, keeping my tone steady. “If patients feel over-observed, they stop being honest.”

Andrews nods. “Agreed.”

Apparently, I can offer an opinion at a board meeting while mentally replaying a stubborn redhead’s fabrication of my performance in bed.

Useful skill.

When the meeting wraps up forty minutes later, I walk back to my office to find a thick stack of study data waiting on my desk.

I drop into my chair as my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Rowan: If you’re worried the murder allegation could affect your career, Piper promised not to tell anyone. Oh, and she knows about the EDS and POTS.

My attention catches on the second sentence. I stare at the screen for a beat.

Me: I’m glad your sister possesses the family’s share of common sense. Stay on the couch.

Rowan: The couch is boring.

A second bubble pops up.

Rowan: Can I have my studio key back? I feel fine.

Me: You told your sister we were having mind-blowing sex this morning. I don’t trust your definition of fine.

Rowan: You really need to let that go. Besides, you should be so lucky.

I stop and read the message twice.

Rowan: You can bring food with the keys if it’ll make you feel better.

Me: What food?

Rowan: Bread. Milk. Eggs. The basics.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, taking a breath before typing back.

Me: What food do you actually have?

Rowan: Coffee and half a lemon.

Me: You haven’t shopped?

Rowan: I’ve been busy. Just bring my keys. I’ll go later.