Page 395 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“Did she now?” he asked, looking over his shoulder and back into the house to yell for her. “Lex!” he shouted. “Come to the door!”

He turned back to me and sneered. “You look like absolute shit, asshole. What’d you sleep in a fucking pothole last night?”

Lexi came fairly quickly, thankfully fast enough that I didn’t have to answer Remy but slow enough that she hadn’t heard his words, her backpack already in place and her sweet blond hair swept off her face in a half ponytail.

“Hey, Lex,” I greeted softly, even if through some confusion. “What’s going on?”

She shrugged, her cheeks warming sheepishly. “I know you said you were coming. And I believed you. But Mom said I should have a backup plan.”

Christ almighty, the lash of that whip was painful. I deserve it, though. Memories of opportunities past flashed in my mind like a firefight, and I struggled to find cover. When I finally came up for air, Remy’s smug smile hit me again.

I swallowed thickly before nodding. None of this was her fault. Not the strife between her uncle and me and not the reality of the mistakes I’d made in the past.

“So do you want me to take you?” I asked. “Or are you going with your uncle?”

Lexi looked between Remy and me and then pointed to him. “We’re going to run by the dance studio and pick up our costumes on the way. Is that okay?”

I swallowed my disappointment and pulled her in for a hug. “Of course, honey. I have to get to the hospital anyway.”

With a quick kiss to my cheek, Lexi’s sweet smile returned full force. “Okay! Let me know if you do any craniotomies.”

I forced myself to smile back and nodded before turning to jog down the front steps of their brownstone to head to work. I didn’t look back to see Remy’s face.

I didn’t need to.

I could feel karma as she curled around my guts and squeezed quite well enough on my own.

After another round of ibuprofen and a cup of much-needed caffeine, I was well on my way toward feeling rejuvenated—a whole whopping hour before the end of my workday. But whatever. Considering I’d spent the better part of my morning nursing the small hangover courtesy of the multiple drinks I’d consumed with Nick and the girls, it was just nice to reach the point where the side effects of alcohol had made their official exit, timing be damned.

The slight headache and sleepy eyes I’d started the day with had been my body’s way of saying it’d been a while since I’d engaged in alcohol by shot glass.

I couldn’t complain, though. The headache and fatigue paled in comparison to that one night in college where I’d ended a frat party with my head in the toilet. Everyone has experienced at least one night of drunken debauchery and poor decisions, but I wasn’t sure anyone had done it with quite as much flare as I had.

Let’s just say I walked away with a condom stuck in my hair and an undisclosed array of colors on my white skirt and leave it at that.

Ah, memories.

All the reminiscence had me wondering how Nick was feeling.

I’d chatted with him briefly this morning via text, and he’d been obviously thrilled by my magnificence at planning a night out…and slightly accusatory about the way he felt as a result.

A part of me felt a little bad about dragging him out to a dance club last night, but another part of me, the one who’d danced and kissed and laughed her ass off with Nick, didn’t have the slightest regret.

Last night had been fun. More than fun, actually. Having the opportunity to see normally conservative and reserved Nick Raines let loose had been the best damn sight I’d witnessed in a long fucking time.

Taking advantage of the short break in my workday, I grabbed my phone off my desk and sent him a quick message.

Me: Feeling any better?

Nick: I think I might have aged ten years between last night and this morning.

Eeeek. It was probably safe to assume the side effects of alcohol were still running wildly in his veins.

Me: That bad?

Nick: Yes, *that* bad.

Me: Shots were probably a bad choice, huh?