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“Ellie.”
“We can’t have sex in the treatment room again.”
“Why not?”
“Brashe.”
“I’m kidding. Mostly.”
I shook my head, refusing to let myself smile. “When you’re at work, I’m Dr. Lundrig.”
“Agreed.”
“No special treatment.”
“Define special treatment.”
“No cutting the line for appointments.”
“What if my hip actually hurts?”
“Then you’ll wait like everyone else.”
He pretended to scowl. “That’s harsh.”
“It’s professional.”
“What about after work? Can I still text you at 9:41?”
My stomach flipped. “You can text me whenever you want.”
“Even if it’s just to say goodnight?”
“Especially then.”
His expression turned serious. “I’m going to mess this up sometimes.”
“I will too.”
“I’m going to get scared and say the wrong thing.”
“I will too.”
We sat closer now. Not touching but almost.
“I don’t know how to be someone’s boyfriend,” he said.
“Lucky for you, I don’t know how to be someone’s girlfriend.”
“We’ll figure it out together.”
“That sounds good.”
A knock on the door made us leap off the treatment table and spring apart even though we hadn’t been touching.
“Ellie?” Patty called out. “Are you in the middle of something?”
“Come in,” I called out.
