Page 440 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“How?”

“The show. I really wasn’t mindful of the cameras when it came to my interactions with Charlotte,” I admitted. “I didn’t really know I had a reason to be at the time.”

“Hmm,” she murmured. “Okay, so you get the black eye first. That might actually go a long way in your fight to win Charlotte back.”

“To remind her of all the conflict and strife she’s involved in? I think not.”

“Chicks dig scars, Dr. Raines. Chicks dig scars.”

I heard nothing more but a sniffle or two before the line went dead. I supposed Winnie had said all she’d needed to say on the matter, and that was that.

My heart raced as I tried to organize the completely unexpected outcome of that conversation in my head. I felt wild and wondrous, and like maybe there was a chance I could have everything I wanted. Before I lost the nerve, I opened my text messages to find Charlotte.

I had so much to say and no easy way to do it.

So there was only one option—to bite the bullet.

Me: Can we talk?

I paced, glanced at the clock hanging over my kitchen sink, and then I paced again.

Five minutes until showtime…

I was torn. Did I watch Nick’s first episode of The Doctor Is In? Or did I avoid it like the plague?

Not to mention, by watching his episodes, I’d have to see his handsome face again, hear his voice, watch his smile, and I dreaded it would destroy any progress I’d made toward moving on.

Well, not that I’d actually moved on, or come close to moving on, but I at least kept telling myself that I needed to move on. That counted for something, right?

God, I was pathetic.

And obviously, I knew deep down, once the clock struck eight, I’d be scrambling to the sofa, grabbing the remote, and clicking the television on. Not to mention, I’d already set up an automatic recording for every The Doctor Is In episode that would ever air.

Yeah, I really was pathetic.

But the sad reality was that I wanted to watch the show because I missed Nick. And more than that, it was pretty much all I had left of him.

Well, I guessed it was either the show or social media stalking. And since Nick wasn’t really the type of guy to keep his Facebook profile updated, I had to obsessively watch his reality docuseries in hopes that I’d see his face grace the camera during Dr. Obscene’s and Dr. Erotic’s episodes.

But now, his episodes were getting ready to air, which meant that Nick’s face would be on camera nearly the whole damn time. Depending on what footage they used in the early filming process, I also might make a cameo or two.

I silently prayed that wasn’t the case. The last thing I wanted was a reminder of how happy I used to be.

But more importantly, I wondered, would his episodes of the series somehow be completely different from his counterparts? Or would they use everything they could find to make the show as juicy and sensationalized as possible?

I knew the true answer to those questions, and I had a strong feeling tidbits of our past relationship would end up broadcasted for the world to see.

I thought back to that one day in his office, when we’d been just in the midst of having sex on his desk, and the cameraguy’s knocking presence on the other side of the door had startled us both. Nausea rolled up my throat at the reminder.

Fucking hell. I wanted to watch it, but I feared those episodes would make me face the reality of the situation—Nick’s episodes were about to show all of the things we had tried to keep secret.

What would that do to him? To Winnie?

And subsequently, to his relationship with his daughter?

The last thing I wanted was to see a worst-case scenario outcome for Nick and Lexi.

I glanced at the clock again and watched as the minute hand clicked into the eight o’clock place. Showtime.