Page 335 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“Prove it,” I mocked, flipping haphazardly through the channels. Before Scott could offer a retort, his face stared back at us on the television. It was a news station’s recap of the press conference Scott had attended earlier in the day to receive an award from the mayor.

“Hey, look! You’re on TV!” I stated the obvious, and he groaned around a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese.

“Oh God. Please, turn it off.”

“Hell no.” I grinned. “It’s your big, shining moment! And since I didn’t get to cover it live, it’s my second-best option. We’re watching it, buddy.”

“There is nothing big or shining about this moment,” he muttered.

And while Scott continued groaning his annoyance, I avidly watched his face on screen. God, he’s handsome. And mine.

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. And mine?

God, my thoughts sounded a bit territorial, like I was two seconds away from pissing a circle around him or something.

It’s because you l-o-v-e him…

“Fuck, here’s the worst part of the whole thing,” he announced and subsequently pulled my attention back to the present. I glanced at him in confusion.

“You mean besides the fact that Brent just keeps talking about how amazing he is?”

“Yep,” he said with a sigh. “Even worse than that.”

I turned my attention back to the television, and that’s when the words, “Can’t fucking wait,” left Scott’s lips. Thanks to regulations, they’d bleeped out the fucking part, but yeah, it was more than apparent what he’d said before the edit.

Holy hell, he’d dropped the f-bomb at a press conference with the mayor!

Completely losing it, I snorted and coughed on my own phlegm as I tried to get control of my laughter. “You…cursed…on…stage…with the mayor.” Scott rolled his eyes. “At a press conference!” My voice turned nearly shrill. “While you were mic’ed!”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. And here I thought receiving an award couldn’t end in bad press. Plus, I’m now an official consultant to the mayor. Your fucking ex, of all people. I even have to go to a big municipal event next week.”

Any and all waning laughter was renewed tenfold. I wasn’t exactly comfortable with all the togetherness he’d be spending with Brent, but holy hell, his own discomfort was amusing.

Suddenly, Scott set his plate on the coffee table and hooked his hands on the line of my jaw. “Go with me.”

That made me stop laughing. “What?”

“To the event. Please?”

“Are you nuts?”

“Please?” he asked again. “I want you by my side, Harlow. Nothing feels right without you anymore.”

I hated the idea of spending an evening in such proximity to Brent, but Jesus Christ, how could I say no to that?

“Okay.”

“Scott!”

“Dr. Erotic!”

“Over here, Scott!”

Several paparazzi yelled as I stepped out of the town car I’d hired for the night, buttoned my suit jacket, and turned to hold a hand out for Harlow.

But if I’d thought they were loud or persistent before her fingers—with bright red manicured nails done special for the occasion—settled into the hollow of mine, I was a fucking idiot.

The quiet roar of paparazzi wind turned into a tornado in the span of an instant.