Page 115 of The Doctors Will See You Now

And after seven days had passed without a returned call or text or fucking email from her, I realized that I had to go back to the drawing board and think of something else that would convince her to let me explain.

An “I can’t live without you” gesture of some sort, but fuck if I knew what that entailed. Mel deserved more than just me standing in front of her door with something cliché like flowers that she couldn’t even enjoy unless she wanted to break out in hives.

Melody deserved the world, and that’s exactly what I wanted to give to her.

But after spending the last two hours of my day trying to rack my brain for the perfect gesture without any luck and riding the subway home with a cake-covered briefcase a week ago, I’d gone straight to my liquor cabinet, taken out a bottle of whiskey, and gotten the British version of pissed. So fucking sloshed, I couldn’t lift my hand to pick up my cell phone, a cell phone I would undoubtedly have used to make a fool of myself if she happened to answer my call.

So sloshed that all this goddamn pain hurt less, if only just a little.

A week later, and the only step I’d managed in progress toward getting her back was step one of twelve where I put down the fucking bottle.

I was just ripping the paper off of the pad and pushing myself to stand when Thatch, a shit-eating grin on his face, stepped through the door.

“What are you doing here? How the hell did you get back here?”

Kline stepped through the door after him, followed by Wes, and my eyebrows pulled together even closer.

Wes rolled his eyes at my question. “Are you kidding? All that stupid giant has to do is wink, and women let him do anything.”

Kline nodded. “Even after several case studies, I still don’t understand it.”

Thatch flashed a grin and smiled. “Come on. This face could sell fake titties to a nun, son.”

Kline shook his head and stepped forward, dropping a thick stack of papers on my desk with a dramatic plop.

I looked down and took the weight of them into my hands as I asked, “What’s this?”

“It’s the paperwork for the clinic,” he said simply, but the wave of shock nearly knocked me on my ass.

Huh? I squinted my eyes together in confusion. “The paperwork for the…?” Did he just say clinic? As in, Melody’s dream clinic?

“Clinic,” Wes confirmed. “The one you talked to us about,”

“But you guys said…” I paused and glanced around the room at each of them in surprise. “You laughed about this. Called me a love-sick idiot.”

“We remember,” Thatch spoke for the group.

“He doesn’t realize love-sick idiots are our favorite,” Wes stage-whispered.

“Oh,” Thatch said with a laugh. “Well, they are. And we love the idea of the clinic. So long as my name is on it.”

“Thatch, we talked about this,” Kline said with a laugh.

“We did. We talked about putting my name up in big neon letters.”

“Shut up, T,” Wes muttered with a slight smirk on his face.

“No way. You can’t shut me up. No one can shut me up! I am El Duce, and you are nothing but my minions.”

“Jesus,” Kline said through a sigh.

I shook my head, my mind spinning at how fucking amazing this was. How it would change countless women’s lives—and dramatically improve the health of their babies. And then I thought about how the one person who wanted it most wasn’t even here anymore, and my elation quickly faded. “It doesn’t even matter.”

“Of course, it matters,” Kline replied confidently. But he didn’t understand.

“No,” I disagreed. “She’s gone. From here. Probably from New York. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“They always say that,” Wes remarked.