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I shook my head and pulled her to me, resting my chin on the top of her head. “It’ll fly by.”
She nodded, noticing the table for the first time. “Is that Antai?”
“Yep.”
She squealed, “What’s the occasion?”
“Celebrating your acceptance into the program.”
“You didn’t know I’d been accepted already.”
“Maybe I did.” I let her go and pulled out a chair for her. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
She settled into the seat and I poured her wine before taking the seat across from her. Her cell phone rang and she looked at the caller ID. “It’s Hampton.”
I was dishing out the pad Thai. “You should answer it, tell him the good news.”
She silenced the ringer and shook her head. “Nah. I’ll tell him tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to celebrate with you.” She grinned across the table. “Now, pass the noodles.”
I handed them over, ignoring the triumphant swell in my chest. This was not the way I’d planned the night. And there was no way I was going to tell her I loved her now and make her doubt her decision to leave in two weeks. But the small part of me that still expected her to choose my brother over me finally withered away and died with her ignoring his call.
And that was almost as good as hearing her tell me she loved me too.
31
Piper
I loved the program.
It was more than I ever imagined it would be. I was learning, trying my best to become a sponge and soak up every ounce of information that was given to me.
But I missed Lawson.
A lot.
And every day that I woke up without him beside me, I lamented the fact that my dream residency was so far away from the person who’d become my dream man.
The last month had been filled with more patients’ heartbreak than I could count and fewer hours of sleep than I had ever experienced.
Lawson and I hadn’t been able to talk much and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss his voice and the way his deep timbre could calm me. Doing what I was, I needed his patient tone more than ever. But we’d spent our time apart texting, and it was better than nothing. Plus, it seemed like every time I opened my messages, there was one from Lawson, just waiting to brighten my day.
He’d sent the very first message while I’d been on the plane, so when I turned my phone back on I’d been greeted with a picture of Seven.
Lawson: Remember when you hated cats?
Me: I still do.
Lawson: Lies.
There was a picture attached of me passed out on the couch, Seven curled up on my chest. I had no idea when he’d taken it, but there was no denying that my hatred for cats was over. I didn’t even try to argue.
And so, that’s how the month had passed. Messages about nothing at all, yet they were everything I needed to get through the days.
Even though it was sobering, my work was so rewarding. I couldn’t believe most days that I’d been accepted into the program of my dreams and was able to help make a difference in the lives of these children. It was absolutely a dream come true. But there were times, like today, that were hard, no matter how prepared I was for it. We’d lost a patient to cancer this morning. She’d been four days shy of her fifth birthday, and after we’d pronounced her, I’d excused myself long enough to text Lawson.
Me: Lost a child today. This is hard.
I hadn’t had time to wait for a response before my hospital issued phone was going off again. I’d shoved my cell back into my pocket and spent the rest of the day throwing myself into the care of other patients. I’d managed to keep it together, to keep my emotions in check, and had even gone so far as given myself a pat on the back for my composure. But the moment I set foot on the train, the dam had burst and I’d cried the whole way home.
