Page 157 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“You are,” my dad agreed and gently grinned in her direction. “It’s one of the perks of living near the city, Nicole.”

“See?” She nudged Scott—ugh—with her elbow. “You should take your mother to Broadway shows more often.”

Scott smirked and glanced around the theater dramatically. “Oh, shit. I thought that was what I was doing. Where am I? Am I hallucinating?”

“Smartass,” she muttered on a laugh. “I mean, you need to do it more. Not just once every few years.”

“Whenever I can fit it into my call schedule, I’ll take you, Mom,” he said, and she groaned.

“Ugh. So, basically, once every few years, then?”

Scott grinned. “Boy, you’ve gotten grumpy in your old age.”

“I’m not old!” She smacked his shoulder, glancing briefly to my father with rosy cheeks. Scott laughed.

My dad cleared his throat and wrapped his arm around Nicole’s shoulder.

Damn. Bill’s got game.

“Consider it a standing offer. Anytime you want to go to a show, I’ll gladly escort you.”

“Okay.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back at her and—Jesus Christ, these two were doing a lot of smiling.

“See?” Scott questioned with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Everything always works out in the end.”

“Not with any help from you,” Nicole muttered, but her eyes seemed welded to my father.

Holy moly, what was going on with these two? The last time I’d ever seen my dad look at a woman like this, I was five and he was still married to my mother—and I’d caught him with a Playboy in the bathroom.

Don’t worry. His pants were on, and all of his parts were covered. Trust me, trauma like that and we’d probably be having a different conversation right now.

“Well.” Scott glanced at me and then at our parents, who appeared to be having some sort of silent conversation no one else was privy to. “I think you should join us for a drink afterward.”

He was talking to my dad, but at the same time, he wasn’t talking to my dad. The sneaky bastard.

“That’s a fantastic idea,” Nicole agreed, squeezing my father’s arm playfully. “Are you free to join us? We could exchange notes on the show. And maybe you could tell me a few of your favorite parts?”

“I’d love that.” Bill nodded, all too eager to agree, and then glanced at me. I had one foot in the direction of the exit, but then he had to go and ruin it. “Doesn’t that sound nice, Low?”

Fuck. Don’t remind everyone that I’m here, Dad.

Just act natural and smile, I coached myself.

“Sounds like a great idea.”

“Okay,” Bill agreed with a proud smile. “We’d love to join you.”

We? Hold the motherfucking train…

Hadn’t Scott said you, meaning one, meaning just my father?

“Wait…uh?” I blurted out, eager to derail this sucker, but unsure what in the hell I was going to say to get out of spending more time with Scott. “I think—I might have plans—”

“You might have plans?” Scott asked with that cocky fucking grin of his. He knew exactly what he’d just done, and instead of being a gentleman and giving me an out, he sat patiently, waiting for me to say, explicitly and without assistance, that I did not want to hang out with a total asshole and his sweet mother for the evening.

His mom’s big brown eyes looked dejected, almost tawny with disappointment. My father questioned, “I thought you said you wanted to go, Low?” His voice was soft, but the line of his body was firm. Bill Paige’s version of what the hell is going on, young lady?

“I meant…you should go…and you still should,” I stuttered. “But I think I might’ve already made plans with Amanda…” I tossed out and then instantly realized my mistake as his keen eyebrows danced into a suspicious tilt.